‘What does she do?’ Ella was intrigued. Devon seemed an unlikely boyfriend for an actress or a model.
‘She’s a celebrity vet. On the telly. Every morning. An absolute cheesefest.Making Pets Well with Marina.’ Bets put her fingers in her mouth and mimed gagging.
A devil of mischief popped into Ella’s head. ‘What? Treating celebrity bitches?’ She thought she might have caught the show once.
Bets let out a shout of laughter and held her hand up for Ella for a high five.
‘Bloody brilliant!’
As they neared Magda’s cottage, which Ella now thought of as home, both dogs slowed their pace, panting.
‘Let’s have a cup of tea before we go to the church.’
With the dogs lapping thirstily, Bets explored the kitchen.
‘I love the colour scheme in here,’ she said, looking round, ‘it’s gorgeous.’
Ella smiled. ‘Magda wanted colours that would distract from the cobwebs. We spent a fortune on paint samples to get them right.’
‘You did it?’
‘I helped. Magda knew she wanted French Provincial and Cath Kidston. We just went from there.’
‘It’s lovely. You’ve got a good eye – but then you are an artist.’
Bets stood next to one of the duck-egg-blue walls and stroked the soft matt paint. ‘I stand in Homebase, look at the colours on the tins. Then I think “that’s the one”, buy ten litres and then when you start putting it on the walls it looks like cat-sick.’
‘No, you can’t do that. You need to get samples. Try them out on the wall. Light. Textures. They can affect the colour.’
‘I realise that now, when I’ve got enough sodding paint to cover the whole bloody flat five times over and I’ve done two walls and it looks hideous.’
‘I have to say I’m not familiar with cat-sick. What sort of shade would that be?’ Ella teased.
‘Believe me, you don’t want to know. Bilious, mauve-cum-beige-cum-puce. Not nice. The tin said Mushroom.’ She pulled a morose face as Ella burst out laughing.
‘Sounds hideous.’
‘It is. Bloody tin lied. And at the moment I can’t afford to buy more. And it looks so dark. I feel like I’m living in a cave with a mood lamp set permanently on angry.’
‘There’s still loads of this left.’ Ella pointed at the pale blue kitchen wall. ‘I’m sure Magda wouldn’t mind you having it. I could give you a hand if you liked.’
‘That would be awesome. Let me know when you’re free.’ Bets’ eyes widened. ‘Oops, you’re free a lot at the moment. So what’s the story?’ asked Bets, suddenly turning her way. ‘Sorry I’m nosy. No filter, remember. If you’ve got some terminal illness, you don’t have to tell me.’
‘Not a lot to tell. And nothing special. My boyfriend, Patrick, and I . . . we’ve just sort of split up at the moment.’
‘Sort of?’
Instead she shrugged and fell back on her usual explanation. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Pants, that’s horrid. Are you OK? Was he a bastard? Or do you still love him?’
Delaying her answer, Ella took a long look at the unshaded grey expanse of sky.
He certainly wasn’t a bastard. But he’d damaged something which couldn’t be repaired.
Ella gave her a non-committal shrug.
‘So how long have you been together? And when did you break up?’
