With surprising speed his hand dived into the tombola barrel and he immediately turned away, secretively poring over his ticket, or rather, as Ella strongly suspected, tickets. Wife and daughter crowded round.
A younger family with a little girl and a toddler in a pushchair diverted Ella’s attention. They were friendly and chatty, getting the little girl to take a lucky handful of tickets. They won a bottle of lager and pronounced themselves delighted to win something.
‘Another,’ said the man, a single pound coin pinched between his thumb and finger. Again he dipped into the barrel, keeping his hand carefully closed as he turned away.
With more customers appearing, Ella found it hard to keep an eye on the odd family but they were definitely up to something.
When Bets appeared on the other side of the room, Ella waved frantically to her, in such a way that it was obvious something was wrong.
Before Bets reached her the man approached the stall. ‘I got two winners. Two-O-Five and three-O-O. Noughts and fives win, don’t they?’ With an aggressive thrust he waved the two raffle tickets under her nose and pointed with the other hand to a bottle of whisky and a bottle of vodka.
Ella took the tickets from him and he snatched up the two bottles before she even had a chance to check the numbers tallied. To be honest she didn’t care. Now that they’d won something, hopefully they’d disappear.
Bets, having wriggled away through the crowded room, faced her across the table.
‘You OK?’
‘I hope I will be now,’ Ella whispered. ‘I think those people are cheating but they’ve won something now. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘The Bainbridges. They are a little strange. Live just outside the village in that cottage with the net curtains. All the kids call it the scary house.’
‘I can see why,’ muttered Ella trying to be discreet and not look at the trio who were still there whispering among themselves.
Just then the man pushed forward and waved another pound coin at her. ‘Another one.’
Ella gave him a hard stare. Should she accuse him of taking more than one ticket each time?
When she looked round, Bets had gone. Trying to dredge up some bravery, Ella gave Mr Bainbridge a firm but fair smile. ‘It is just one ticket for a pound.’
‘Hah! Daylight robbery. One frigging ticket for a pound. Should be two. One isn’t right.’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t set the prices and it’s all for a good cause.’
Mr Bainbridge stared at her, his watery steel blue eyes locked onto hers. Goosebumps erupted on Ella’s arms. She’d rather be anywhere but here. He was probably putting a curse on her or something.
‘I’m having two tickets.’
‘That’s not very fair on everyone else, is it?’ Her voice held even though inside she had no idea what to do. What the hell was village etiquette when you dealing with the local misfit family?
‘Up to your old tricks are you, Bainbridge?’ Devon’s voice, firm and even, interjected. Her pulse reacted to the familiar timbre and with it a sudden tightening of her skin and muscles, as if her whole body had gone on full alert. With his hand on his hips and towering over the shorter, dumpy man, Devon looked like an avenging angel. Ella could have fainted with outrightgratitude, except that was the last thing he would want. She stared at the stern mouth, the memory of its touch triggering a warmth inside her chest she would rather ignore.
Bainbridge glared at Devon, shrugged and without another word slid off into the crowd, his wife and daughter slinking after him without a backward glance.
Stunned into silence, Ella could only gawp stupidly at Devon. His expression didn’t invite conversation. With a disdainful and long-suffering tut, he shook his head and turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.
Bloody typical. Apparently it was OK forhimto come to the rescue. Despite being horribly grateful, she still wanted to shake him.
When Mrs Mason came to relieve her at twelve, Ella wasn’t as desperate to leave as she thought she’d be.
‘Thank you so much for holding the fort.’ It was one of the ladies whom she’d met when doing her talk.
‘That’s OK. I enjoyed myself.’ She’d had a great time, chatting to half the village she knew and lots of people she didn’t, who’d all been very friendly and chatty. The time had flown by.
‘I hear the Bainbridges stopped by, dear. They are such wretches. Very naughty of them. It’s not even as if they drink. They just like to win.’ She shook her pale pink rinse. ‘But then, Mrs Bainbridge always donates the whole lot back again for next year.’
‘How odd,’ said Ella.
‘And isn’t your picture doing well?’
