‘Christ alive. You and the vic, the dream team of disaster.’
‘And Magda’s goddaughter,’ chipped in Bets.
‘Ah, yes, the artist. What’s she like? Is she a lesbian?’
Devon exchanged a look with Bets and raised an eyebrow.
‘She doesn’t like men, that’s for sure.’
‘Bacardi and Coke please.’ Bets ignored them both. ‘And no, she isn’t. But guess what? She’s the Cuthbert Mouse illustrator lady.’
‘Is she now? And can she play darts?’
Bets shrugged. ‘Of course not, I just invited her. She doesn’t know anyone—’
‘And you needed the numbers.’ Greta shook her head with a knowing smile. ‘Although to be fair it’s brought a few extra bums in. Having the vicar is a real bonus. The blue rinse groupies are out in force. I had to send young Barry out to stock up on sherry and dust off the schooners.’
Devon sat down on the opposite side of the table to Ella. Unfortunately, Bets had been waylaid by the late arrival of the vicar. The minute he eased himself into the seat, he watched her stiffen. Ella’s body language spoke fluently. Some perverse instinct made him push for conversation.
‘So I hear you’re staying at Magda’s.’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you heard from her?’
‘No.’
‘I guess it’s tricky when you’re at sea.’ OK, he’d officially bored himself to death with this conversation but she wasn’t making it easy. Not like Marina, who sparkled in front of an audience, held them spellbound with every word and tilt of her lovely head and smashed his life apart.
A sense of bleakness cast its familiar shadow and his diaphragm clenched in response.
He looked at his watch. Please God, let the other team turn up soon. This was excruciating.
He should have given up then, but he had a habit of flogging dead horses.
‘Bets says you’re an artist. What sort of art do you do?’
Cold unfriendly eyes turned his way. ‘I’m an illustrator. I draw pictures of mice for a series of children’s books. Small. Fat. Chubby. Rotund mice.’ She enunciated each with word with a dart of venom.
‘Right.’ Nothing wrong with fat mice. This girl was lining up to be the queen of crazy town.
‘So how long have been you been here?’
‘It feels like for ever.’ Her mouth twisted and for a moment sheer unhappiness illuminated her face. She looked so lost and alone in that second. And he knew exactly how it bloody felt.
‘God, I wish Bets hadn’t roped me in for this. I’m bloody hopeless at darts,’ he said.
‘So why did you agree then?’ She stared hard at him.
‘Community spirit. And you know Bets. Besides,’ he shrugged, ‘the other option was Gerry, who has about as much control over his right arm as a boom on a boat in a force nine gale. I thought me making a complete dick of myself was preferable to spending the evening having to tend to people’s injuries. People around here tend to value their eyesight.’
She looked up and for the first time met his gaze, her teeth worrying her lip as if trying to bite back any semblance of a smile.
‘I thought you were a vet?’
‘I am but people automatically assume I can deal with humans as well as animals.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘I usually volunteer the information about how I take an animal’s temperature and they quickly change their minds. Although obviously if it was an emergency, I’d help if I could.’
‘Unless it was four in the morning.’ Ice filled her voice.
