‘I take it salsa was a hit.’
‘So much fun,’ enthused Ella, demonstrating with a few quick steps, still wearing her red shoes. ‘I loved it.’
Bets dropped her bottle on the table in front of him. ‘Old snake hips. What a laugh. You’ve got to hand it to her, Audrey gets some good things organised, although I could do without the blinking dog agility thing.’
‘Hmm,’ said Devon dubiously. ‘I’m doing my best to keep my head down, but I think she’s starting to ramp up her campaign. I’ve tried to lay it on thick about how busy I am.’
‘What does dog agility entail?’ asked Ella, taking a long slug of beer. Devon watched the smooth column of her neck as she chugged straight from the bottle with evident enjoyment. It was as if someone had a lit a candle inside her; she glowed.
Ella turned to Bets. ‘I’ve got visions of aerobics for dogs. Seriously?’
‘No, I build a course of jumps and tunnels and gates. The dogs have to go through the course. Except they often get a bit excited by the crowd and other dogs, so don’t behave, run off, go the wrong way around the course. It would be hilarious, except I’m supposed to keep some sort of score, and lots of the kids enter and then I get irate parents challenging the result. Tiger moms.’
‘I think I might have got off lightly. Apparently I’m doing the tombola.’
‘Lucky you,’ said Bets. ‘I’d love to do the tombola. Dead easy. And what’s this about a talk to the WI?’
Ella suddenly frowned. ‘I was hoping to get out of that, and to be honest I’d forgotten. She collared me in the hospital when I was visiting George.’ An expression of sheer panic suddenly blossomed in her eyes. ‘How does she do that?’
‘It’s called the Audrey Factor,’ said Devon fondly. ‘She’s an irresistible force of nature that you just don’t mess with. And I should know, I’ve had to put up with it all my life.’
Bets shot an apologetic glance his way before saying, ‘With Audrey there’s no getting out of anything, you’re committed now.’
‘That’s what I was afraid of. What the hell am I going to talk about for an hour? I’ve got nothing to say.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Devon chipped in. ‘Of course you have. How did you get started? How do you come up with theideas? You can talk about the flamenco pictures.’ He winked, reminding her of how he’d caught her dancing.
She rolled her eyes at him.
‘You can talk about how you work? You know draw, dance, draw.’
Ignoring his teasing, she worried at a loose thread at the bottom of her shirt. ‘I’m not sure that it’s going to be terribly interesting.’
‘Rubbish. If you talk with enthusiasm and passion, you can make anything interesting.’
‘But standing there talking is a bit dull.’
‘You could give them a demonstration. Do a dance.’
Bets raised an intrigued eyebrow. ‘What’s with the dancing?’
‘It’s a long story,’ said Ella glaring at him, although there was a twinkle in her eye. ‘Will you shut up with the dancing. You caught me once. I don’t normally work like that.’
‘You should. It looked like fun.’ He sobered. ‘Seriously. You drew that sketch in the pub pretty quickly, as I recall. Make it interactive.’
Ella paused. That might be fun.
‘I’ve got an idea!’ She grabbed a beer mat and fished a pen out of her bag. ‘Think of a hat.’
‘What?’ Devon and Bets looked at each other, puzzled.
‘A hat.’
‘Cowboy hat,’ said Bets.
‘Perfect.’ With quick deft strokes, she sketched Cuthbert wearing one looped around his neck.
‘Wow, that’s amazing. You’ve even captured the John Wayne bow-legged look.’
