As a London lawyer Charles had liked her to look a certain way so that she fit in with his city friends. He’d bought her a wardrobe of high end clothes for when she’d have a weekend off from her locum position with a Cotswold vet practice. As much as she loved her wax cotton jacket and gumboots, they hadn’t been acceptable attire in Charles’s sartorial opinion. She grabbed her bag and headed past her well-worn gumboots that had pride of place in the shoe box at the back door. Nowadays she wore what she wanted, when she wanted, and wasn’t fulfilling anyone’s expectations but her own.
Taylor didn’t miss her wardrobe choice when she arrived in town and walked into the empty hair salon. ‘You’re looking very glam. Is there something you’re not telling me … like you have a hot date?’
‘The only hot thing in my life was my house this morning when I had no aircon.’
Taylor’s eyes sparkled. ‘You know I live in hope there will be other hot things.’
Ella laughed. Taylor was an incurable romantic and her light teasing wasn’t ever meant to cause any pain. If Ella did ever have a hot, or even lukewarm, date, Taylor would be the first person to sit her down to make sure she was doing the right thing. ‘You’ll be waiting a while. Besides, you only want me to go on a date so you can do my hair.’
‘True. You’re a hairdresser’s dream.’ Taylor’s expression sobered. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
Ella ran her hands through her thick hair that had grown extra long since she’d been too busy to have a trim. ‘Off with the lot.’
‘Well then, let’s get started.’
Ella sat in the chair Taylor indicated and was soon cloaked in a synthetic black cape.
Taylor parted her hair in the middle, twisted small sections and pinned them into place with large clips. ‘You know people pay a fortune to have natural highlights like these.’
‘They’re all thanks to our Aussie sun.’
In the mirror she saw her smile fade as she remembered how dark her hair had become when she’d been away from the Australian summer. Charles had booked her into a fancy London hair salon to have it lightened. At the time she’d thought it was sweet of him as she’d been too busy to think about her appearance. Now her older self wasn’t so sure his intentions had been so unselfish.
Taylor’s fingers stilled as she secured a small ponytail with a rubber band. ‘Second thoughts?’
She went to shake her head, then spoke instead. ‘Not at all.’
Taylor sectioned Ella’s hair into another three ponytails. After wrapping bands in regular intervals along their length, she measured them to make sure they met the requirements of the hair donation charity. From when she’d donated her hair last time Ella already knew she ticked the chemical-free box.
Taylor picked up her scissors with a gleeful grin. ‘Ready?’
Ella tried not to smile. ‘Usually you wear that expression when you’re chasing Fliss around with a can of hairspray … but yes, I’m ready.’
Taylor cut above the top elastic band on each ponytail. With every snip shorter sections of hair fell around Ella’s face to brush her collarbones. With each ponytail that Taylor carefully laid on the trolley beside her, she felt lighter, and not just because her heavy hair didn’t now fall down her back.
She didn’t consider herself a blonde bombshell, but for those of the opposite sex who were tempted to think of her that way, the label now wouldn’t fit. For whatever reason, short blonde hair didn’t seem to hold the same sex appeal on her. If she now met up with Doug Jones she was confident he wouldn’t give her a second glance.
Taylor’s expression turned serious as she styled what was left of Ella’s hair. ‘You know this won’t change a thing. You’ll never be invisible.’
‘It made a difference last time.’
Taylor simply shook her head.
With her hair falling in bouncy waves around her face, she blew Taylor a farewell kiss before walking out into the bright sunshine. She slipped on her sunglasses. Short hair, don’t care. A new hairstyle deserved to be celebrated with one of the Windmill Café’s famous brownies. She’d buy two and pop around to see Violet.
She’d only covered half a block before her name was called in almost a wail. ‘Ella Quinlivan … what have you done?’
She slowly turned to face Edna who power-walked towards her. Whatever it was, she had no idea. ‘Nothing? Why?’
Edna stopped, puffing slightly. ‘Your beautiful hair …’
Ella touched the soft, short waves. ‘I donated hair to be made into another wig.’
‘That’s a very selfless gesture but you did that when you first arrived in town.’
‘There’s no rule that says I can’t do it again.’
Edna’s gaze sharpened.
Ella resisted squirming. She didn’t envy Bethany growing up with a mother whose stare quite possibly had the ability to see everything a person wanted to hide.
She spoke again. ‘It’s also summer, we’re in a heatwave, and this style will be cooler.’
Edna’s expression softened. ‘You’re far too sensible to have had your hair cut for any other reason. The wig charity is a very worthy cause.’
To her surprise Edna wasn’t in the mood to chat further. ‘Now, I’d better keep moving. Bethany’s in town somewhere.’ As Edna turned, she gave Ella a stern look. ‘I know poor Roy’s out of action and you had an emergency but you should have called me to check out that new electrician. I’m glad he did what he was supposed to but a word to the wise, a reliable source has told me that he sets up shop and when something goes wrong he leaves town.’
Ella kept her expression from changing. How was it that Edna knew everything that went on around town? ‘Thanks for the heads up.’
After Edna turned to leave, Ella sent Bethany a text. If why she was in town had anything to do with her mother’s surprise party she couldn’t have Edna track her down.
Bethany texted a reply thanking her for the warning. She had been looking at possible party venues but was now leaving. She’d call her later as she’d drawn a blank at finding somewhere suitable. Almost everywhere had a connection to her mother.
After finishing her small grocery shop, Ella drove home. She kept running her fingers through her shortened hair. She’d forgotten how it felt not to have long hair. Edna was partly right—there was the additional reason of wanting to go under the masculine radar, but that was it. There simply wasn’t any further reason for her having had her hair cut.
When she pulled into the carport and turned off the engine, she held her breath until she heard the air conditioner making its usual din. Doug Jones might not have been the best choice but apart from his lack of professionalism he’d done what he’d come out to do.
She unlocked the back door. A rush of cold air failed to greet her. Not again. She closed her eyes only to immediately open them. Was that running water?
She lowered the grocery bags to the wooden floor and sped towards where the sound was coming from, which seemed to be the living room. She came to a sudden stop at the doorway. The room directly under the air conditioner unit had turned into a water feature. Water coursed through the air conditioner vents, down the wall and onto the floor before running through the sliding door into the hallway.
A tension headache throbbed between her temples as she raced to the control panel to switch the air conditioner off. There was no way she was calling Doug Jones. He wasn’t setting foot on Ambleside again. When she’d calmed down she’d give him some constructive feedback. She was done with ineptitude.
What she needed was a ladder. Whatever this new problem was it involved water so it should be obvious where the flow was coming from. Surely there would be a video on the internet to show her how to turn off the water and fix the leak? She scooped her phone out of her bag before self-preservation could overrule her common sense. First she had a call to make. The closest person with a ladder was Saul.
‘You have such a tough life,’ Saul said to Duke as the Australi
an shepherd rolled onto his back so the kitchen air conditioner could cool his belly.
Duke responded with a brief wag of his tail. Saul smiled. Anything more and it would have been too much of an effort.
Saul lifted his arms above his head and stretched as he walked over to check his phone charging on the bench. He finally had his quarterly business activity statement done and dusted. The rest of the weekend would now be about working outside—a place he’d much rather be, even in this heat.
He checked his messages. Denham had asked him over for a cold beer with the boys but after the past two busy weekends he’d reached his threshold of being social. He’d replied saying he was having a quiet Saturday night in. The truth was that disclosing to Ella about his failed marriage had left him feeling on edge and he needed space.
He scrolled through the rest of his messages, only giving them a brief glance. Despite his best intentions, he’d allowed Ella to sneak under his guard. Even telling her about the shortened version of his divorce was still more than he’d told anyone besides his brother. Instead of talking about what had happened proving cathartic, reliving his past only reawakened memories he didn’t need to revisit.
His fresh start didn’t involve allowing emotions to sidetrack him. Even if every meeting with Ella revealed a new layer of who she was and made him feel things he’d vowed to never feel again. That would teach him to go off script. He needed to get back to focusing on his bison and not on his distracting new neighbour.
He was spooning coffee into a mug when his phone rang. Thinking it was Denham calling to talk him around to coming over, he didn’t pay much attention to the caller ID until he’d lifted the phone halfway to his ear. Then he caught the name on the screen. Ella.
‘Hi, everything okay?’ he asked, making no move towards the electric kettle as it flicked off. She’d only ever texted before.
‘Can I please borrow your extension ladder?’
‘Sure. I can bring it around in my truck.’
‘Do you also have a tool box handy? I only have a few things here.’
‘There’s one in my ute … what’s the problem?’
‘Half my rainwater tank’s in my living room.’
‘I’m on my way.’
He ended the call and Duke, sensing life was about to get more interesting, jumped to his feet.
When they arrived at Ella’s, Nutmeg greeted them from the goat paddock with her blood-curdling bleat. While Duke raced off to see the two goats, Saul unloaded the ladder and tool box. Arms full, he turned to head over to the cottage. Except his boots remained anchored in place.
He’d ridden rank bulls no one could ride. He’d wrangled bison no one could handle. But the sight of Ella walking towards him in a red dress, her hair cropped and tousled, threw him. All air left his lungs. All thoughts fled except for the ones that involved sliding his hands through her now shortened hair. He forced himself to remember where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. He moved away from his truck.
‘That was fast,’ she said, stopping before him on the path. ‘I didn’t even have time to get changed.’
He lost the battle to not stare. Her new hairstyle framed her face, accentuating her large brown eyes, high cheekbones and the soft curve of her mouth. He broke eye contact to study the roof. ‘So, you either have a burst pipe, a roof leak or something’s up with your air conditioner.’
Duke joined them and she bent down to give him his compulsory pat. ‘As my face is no doubt the colour of my dress, let’s go with option C.’
He didn’t dare glance at her dress, which only emphasised the feminine indent of her waist and reminded him of how right it felt to have his arm wrapped around her. ‘How about I turn the water off, then we can see what we’re dealing with. There’s a box of towels in my truck if you need them.’
‘Thanks. I can go up on the roof, though.’ The breeze caught in the skirt of her dress. She placed a hand on her right thigh to hold the fabric in place but not before he caught a glimpse of smooth tanned skin. ‘On second thought it will be quicker if you turn off the water. I’ll keep mopping.’
She walked towards his truck, her hand making sure her dress wouldn’t again balloon upwards. Duke followed as she lifted out the box of towels.
Saul used the short walk to the side of the house to slow the thumping of his heart. When it came to Ella, it wasn’t only feelings that unnerved him. He’d never felt such an intense physical pull before, even towards Trish.
He settled the ladder against the side of the cottage and focused on the job at hand. Thanks to the temperamental evaporative air conditioner he’d grown up with, he located the water valve and turned it off. He also identified what the water issue was. The clamp on the hose supplying the water hadn’t been secured properly. The pipe had come loose and instead of water going into the unit, it poured into the cottage’s roofing space. He hoped the insulation, lights and wall gyprock weren’t going to suffer any serious damage.
He climbed down the ladder, found what tools he needed from the tool box and returned to the roof to reattach the pipe. Once he made sure the clamp held firm, he went in search of Ella.
He knocked at the back screen door, not wanting to assume he could waltz inside.
Ella’s voice sounded. ‘Come in.’
He walked through the covered-in back veranda, through a homely kitchen and into what had to be a living room. He’d thought Ella’s home would be highly organised and it was. There was zero clutter or mess. A polished dark wood fireplace gleamed from behind where two red chairs and a lounge had been pushed to the side. A thin stream ran down the white walls and across the polished floorboards.
Ella stuck her head through the doorway that led to a small hallway. She’d changed into mid-length denim shorts and a navy tank top and her feet were bare. ‘Whatever you did, the water’s stopping.’
‘The hose had come loose.’
‘You wouldn’t believe I had someone fix the aircon this morning.’
‘I wouldn’t be using whoever it was again.’ He lifted a plastic tub filled with the soaked charcoal-grey towels he’d brought with him. At least now when his sister-in-law asked if he’d used her housewarming gift he could say he had. ‘Laundry is …?’
‘Two doors past the kitchen.’
After he’d carried three more loads of towels to the laundry, the cottage floors were dry.
Ella stood and rubbed at her lower back. ‘I need caffeine or sugar before we turn on the aircon and might have another waterfall to mop up.’
Once in the kitchen she poured two glasses of orange juice into tall glasses and handed him one.
‘Thanks,’ he said, making sure their hands didn’t touch.
She opened the freezer at the top of the fridge and took out a container of salted caramel ice cream. ‘I’ve been saving this for a special occasion. I think having the house water-free qualifies.’
She spooned ice cream into two white bowls before carrying them across to the kitchen table. He collected her juice glass and placed it beside her before sitting in a chair across from her. Crunching sounded as Ella snuck Duke a plain biscuit.
He ate a mouthful of the cold ice cream. He was unsure whether or not he should comment about her hair. Thanks to Trish he knew there was a fine line when it came to commenting on a woman’s appearance—he either said not enough or too much. He decided on the less is more approach.
‘Your hair will be cooler in this heat.’
‘It sure is. I should have donated it a month ago.’
His spoon stilled halfway to his mouth. ‘Was that for a charity like Kids With Wigs?’
‘It was.’ Her eyes searched his.
He rested his spoon in the bowl. ‘Rosie, my niece, had a rough start. Her acute lymphoblastic leukaemia is now in remission.’
Ella stopped eating. ‘Poor little possum. I can’t even imagine what she’s been through, as well as her parents.’
‘I flew home whenever I could. Nathan and Amy
are now expecting their second child and I’ve never seen them happier.’
He resumed eating and made a point of finishing his ice cream. The cottage kitchen felt more claustrophobic than cosy. As happy as he was for his brother and Amy, he was still working on coming to terms with their pregnancy news. First there would be Denham and Cressy’s baby, and then his newborn niece or nephew. He wasn’t sure yet how he’d cope being around either of them.
He came to his feet and carried the empty bowls over to the sink. ‘I’ll get back on the roof.’
While he restored the water supply to the air conditioner and checked that the hose clamp remained in place, Ella fed Cinnamon and Nutmeg.
From the bottom of the ladder he soon heard Ella call out, ‘Shall I turn it on?’
He crossed to the roof edge and looked down. ‘That would be great.’
It wasn’t long until the air conditioner kicked into life. The clamp around the hose held. He waited another five minutes and when nothing changed he headed inside.
In the kitchen he held up a hand to the ceiling vent. A welcome gust of cool air washed over his palm. Movement sounded in the living room and he went to help Ella shift the red lounge back into place.
‘Everything’s working fine,’ he said, looking away from the toned strength of her arms and the way her navy tank top pulled tight across her chest.
‘I should have called you this morning.’
They moved the final red chair into place beside the sofa.
He glanced up at the ceiling, which didn’t look to have suffered any obvious water damage. ‘At least with all this heat everything will soon dry out.’
She went over to the half-open sliding door that separated the old and new sections of the cottage. ‘So far this seems to be the only thing not right. I can’t get it to close.’
He went and pushed the door, but it only moved a fraction. ‘The water could have run into the cavity. I’ll take a look.’
The Boundary Fence (A Woodlea Novel, #7) Page 11
