Ella couldn’t resist all that vibrant enthusiasm and grinned back at Bets. ‘Cuthbert’s just got himself a fez.’ Although she hadn’t quite managed to capture one decent drawing that brought to life the little mouse’s delight with his latest hat.
‘Aww, how cute. I’d love to see that.’
‘Why don’t you pop round?’ The words just ran out of her mouth. She’d never showed her drawings to anyone before they went to the publisher, but people weren’t usually this interested.
‘Really? Can I?’ Bets’ delight was so infectious there was no way Ella could retract the offer.
‘Er, yeah. Why not?’ Ella shrugged, crossing her fingers in her pocket.
‘Just wait till I tell Fred and Harry. My sister’s kids. They’re going to be so jealous.’ She punched the air. ‘You made my day. Now let me show you around the village.’
‘Village hall.’ Bets pointed to the timber-clad building to the right of the green that was sporting a rather vivid pair of purple wooden doors. She saw Ella’s surprise. ‘Local company did one of those community days. The managing director was colour blind. Tarted the place up a bit, but weren’t able to do much about the roof. We’ve got a fundraising drive on to pay for the repairs. On a wet day the toddler group has to slalom around the buckets on their trikes. But there’s always loads going on there. Rehearsals. Yoga. Line dancing. Jumble sales. Brownies. Scouts. The allotment society. I tell you, you won’t be bored living here.’
Ella almost stopped dead. The other girl had to be kidding.
They circled the green, the dogs stopping to mark their route with annoying frequency. Surely they were all peed out.
‘Church, obviously. Some bits are quite old. We get the occasional coachload of tourists, although they’re more interested in the duck pond. Makes a nice picture. They don’t realise that Martha, the local witch, was drowned in there.’
‘Local witch?’ Ella’s voice was scornful. She tugged ineffectually at the dog’s lead, as Tess had suddenly decided to investigate a shrub they’d just walked past and have yet another pee.
‘Magda discovered her. She’s been tracing her family tree. Richard the vicar has been helping her by going through the church registers. They found all these records going back to the 1750s and that her great, great, great well however many, grandmother, Martha, was tried for witchcraft by being ducked in the pond.’
‘That explains a lot,’ muttered Ella under her breath, the herb bags and wannabe spells suddenly all making sense.
Bets in full flow didn’t stop to draw breath. ‘Of course she didn’t survive. Well, she couldn’t because if she had they’d have said she was a witch and killed her anyway. Lose–lose situation.’ She paused. ‘But a bit sad.’
Ella gave the pond a second glance. With its fringe of reeds and white Aylesbury ducks floating on the surface, it looked too innocuous to be associated with anything that grim.
Bets waved her hand. ‘Cricket club. I expect George will have you on teas. They like their Victoria sponge.’
Ella pinched her lips together but didn’t say anything. Her cooking skills stopped at the door of a microwave.
‘And that’s the shop, with the bow window and Georgian panes. Sells everything you could possibly need. It was going to close but we set up a community trust to run it and we all take it in turns. We’ll have to get you on the rota. Oi Dexter, stop that.’ The dog was nosing at a discarded crisp packet and half a bar of chocolate in the middle of the road, closely shadowed by the black Labrador. ‘Don’t let them near the chocolate.’ Bets shot her a quick look. ‘You do know chocolate is poisonous to dogs.’
Ella, with her work cut out trying to haul the dog away from the revolting melted mess, nodded, not sure if Bets was serious or not.
She put out a hand and stopped Bets, feeling a lot like Alice in Wonderland.
‘I can’t be on the rota – I’ve got to work. I haven’t got time.’
‘But you have to,’ said Bets with a pugnacious tilt to her chin, looking rather surprised. ‘Everyone does. Otherwise the shop won’t survive. Lots of people rely on it. It’s not something you can pick and choose to do.’
‘Really,’ said Ella with haughty disdain. With her village pronouncements, this girl was starting to get on her nerves. Well, they could forget it. Ella had work to do and she planned to keep herself to herself.
The footpath they were on opened out onto a stretch of water.
‘I had no idea there was a river around here.’
Bets let out a gurgle of laughter. ‘There isn’t, this is the canal. Goes all the way to Birmingham. Oh, Dexter! Do you have to? You dreadful animal.’ She shook her head, her curls bouncing with suppressed laughter, as with a huge splash, the pointer bounced into the water and Tess went in straight after him.
Ella stopped dead, unable to see through the sudden spray of water. ‘Oh God, can they swim?’
Bets tutted. ‘Of course they can.’
Ella blushed. She hated feeling stupid and wrong-footed. Her worst nightmare was being laughed at. ‘Can they get out again? Should we get them out?’ Ella stood on the bank feeling faintly alarmed. How did you get a dog out of the water? Would she have to go in after Tess?
‘They’ll be fine.’
