The million-dollar question. And now Ella didn’t know the answer. A few weeks ago she wouldn’t have even had to think about it.
She hoped her non-committal shrug would deter any more questions.
‘Magda’s not back for ages. I’ve got plenty of time to think about what I’m going to do.’
‘Well, I must say, you look a lot better. Eating properly, no doubt. Would you like to take some beef back with you? For sandwiches. Be lovely cold with some horseradish. Or mustard. I’ve got both in the cupboard from the WI Food Fayre last week. I’ll get you some.’
Ella watched her mother bustle away out to the kitchen. Her dad’s eyes had drooped shut and the paper lowered. She smiled as he dozed.
They both started when her mother gave an outraged shriek.
‘No! Bad dog.’
Rising rapidly to her feet, Ella tossed a quick glance at her father as she followed her mother’s voice.
‘What’s wrong?’ her father asked.
‘Dratted animal.’ Ella’s mother stood glowering, hands on her hips, by an empty chopping board. ‘That dog has eaten the rest of the beef.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked her father, his brow wrinkling in disbelieving confusion.
Ella sighed and looked over at Tess who had slunk over to the bi-fold doors leading out into the garden, pressing up against the glass in a misguided attempt to blend into the background. It didn’t work. Her hangdog expression shouted her guilt.
‘Mum, I’m really sorry.’ And then because she still owed them for dumping Tess on her, she couldn’t resist winding them up a bit more. ‘She’s a nightmare. You can’t turn your back on her for a moment. She eats anything and everything. You can’t leave a thing out.’
Ella was pleased to see that her mother looked suitably chagrined, although she did feel a bit guilty maligning Tess quite so much. The poor dog’s tail had drooped and her head dipped. Definitely the picture of shame.
Chapter Twenty-Six
When Tess’s excited scuffle announced Devon’s arrival before he could knock at the door, Ella’s pulse began to misbehave in the most ridiculous way.
He’s just coming for a meal, she told herself sternly as she walked slowly and calmly back down the stairs to the front door. Tess was already there, chief ambassador for the official welcoming committee. Her tail was wagging with delight.
It was odd how even through a solid door the dog could tell friend from foe. How did she do that?
Ella opened the door, amused to find that her hand shook as she lifted the latch.
She found two crates of bottles on the doorstep and Devon coming down the path towards her with a final crate.
‘This is the last one.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Tombola?’
‘Oh, yes. Mum insisted I brought it over.’
With a broad grin, she took one of the crates from him, almost buckling at the weight. ‘Crikey, I didn’t know there were this many people in the village to donate so much stuff.’
Devon gave a wry grin. ‘Looking at some of the dodgier bottles, I think they’re recycled back into the tombola every year. This one,’ he inclined his head towards a bottle of red wine lodged on the top of the box he carried, ‘is for you, but if you wanted a different colour, we can always swap it.’
Ella shook her head. ‘Best stick with this, I think.’ She gave the bottles in the box a grimace. ‘I think we’d rather know whatwe’re dealing with and more importantly it will go perfectly with dinner.’
‘Something smells good.’
‘There’s enough of it.’ Ella gave him a dubious look. ‘You might be taking a food parcel or three home with you.’
Devon raised his eyebrows in question.
‘I’ve made bolognese sauce.’ She winced. ‘Quite a bit. A huge vat.’ It was no good. The laughter bubbled out. ‘Small weights and measures issue at the butchers.’
