THIRTEEN
Ellie was talking to the man behind the counter in the butcher’s shop when her phone buzzed.
She was realising that one of the simple pleasures of living in Magpie Cove was doing her grocery shopping every couple of days in the local shops. Some days, she’d bought fresh pollock and herring from the few fishermen left in the cove, who came back with their catch in the early morning. She and Fee were certainly eating like queens, and at least half of Ellie’s clothes didn’t do up anymore.
She paid for her sausages – delicious, thick pork-and-apple ones that she could imagine would go beautifully with the hasselback potatoes she’d planned to make later, and promised to come back soon.
The thing was, oddly, for someone who had been so obsessed by her weight, that she didn’t really care. Fee had never cared anyway, and, as she put it, they were eating healthily, for the most part. They were eating well, and if Ellie had put on a bit of weight, maybe that was because she was returning to the natural weight she should have been at thirty-seven.
‘You aresupposedto have a bum. And hips. And boobs,’ Fee had patiently pointed out to her for the hundredth time as Ellie had tried, and failed, to get her size eight jeans on. ‘It’s not actually the end of the world to be a size twelve, you know. Or a size eighteen.’ She smoothed her dress over her hips. ‘Personally, I’d rather enjoy eating, go for some good walks and call it even.’
‘I know, I know.’ Ellie had sighed, and pulled the skinny jeans off her calves. But quite honestly, Fee was right. There were worse things in life.
Outside the butcher’s, she looked at her phone.
Thanks for offering to help Jamey out. This is her number if you want to give her a call still. I know she’d appreciate it.
Mark Gardner had sent her a text, attaching a mobile number underneath, which she assumed belonged to his sister.
Ellie frowned, looking at the message. Three dots flashed underneath it, indicating that Mark was writing another message. She watched them intently, wondering what else he was going to write. She hadn’t heard anything from him since running away from him at the end of their date more than a week ago: he had texted Fee a couple of times with updates on the repair, but that was it.
In terms of Marilyn’s progress, it was slow. It seemed that although Mark had fixed one problem, there was now something wrong with the gearbox and that, in turn, needed a new part that was difficult to get.
Hope you’re well.
The three words seemed minimal compared to the time he had spent composing them. Had he intended to write something else? What, if so?
Ellie stared at the screen, wondering what to write back. She had no problem in helping Jamey out with some legal advice, but she had no idea what to say to Mark.
Okay, I’ll give her a call.
She replied, and then hesitated. What should she say? She knew she’d behaved badly on the date and Mark at least deserved an explanation, but she’d been avoiding it. She already felt like an idiot.
I’m fine. How’s things?she added, and regretted it as soon as she had replied. She should call him and speak to him in person and explain why she had freaked out and run away. But then, on the other hand, did she really have to explain herself to anyone?
Repairs going slowly, waiting for the new gearbox, came the reply.
Great,she replied.How long do you think it will be until she’s ready?
Hard to say, but a couple of weeks, he replied. There was no mention of how he was, or any asking her out on another date. Clearly, Mark had had his fingers burned, and wasn’t keen to stick them in the oven again.
It wasn’t that Ellie didn’t understand – she would have reacted in the same way as Mark, probably, if someone had suddenly got super awkward and run away from her at the end of a date. She wanted to say more. She wanted to explain, but it felt too raw.
Okay, let me know when you have the next bill ready, Ellie replied.
She had been paying Mark every week or so, rather than expecting him to foot the bill for all the new parts Marilyn needed. It wasn’t cheap, but Ellie was invested now. If she hadn’t had so many savings, she would have had to sell Marilyn early and cut her losses, but now Ellie figured she might as well get Marilyn in tip-top condition. Even if she and Fee didn’t have time to take Marilyn for the road trip they’d intended, she could sell Marilyn on as a fully renovated vintage motorhome. God knew that she had nowhere to park her back at her London flat.
She wanted to add something else. She wanted to be having a different conversation: flirty, like that last Saturday in the kitchen when she’d flicked the towel at him. She liked Mark, and she thought that he liked her too.
That was the problem.
Her fingers hovered over the phone. Should she ask him out again?
Will do, Mark replied. There were no more dots indicating that he wanted to add anything else. Ellie’s heart sank a little. If there had been a moment to text something more flirty, it had gone.
Ellie walked back to the beach house and called Jamey’s number instead. It was a good way to distract herself from whatever was going on with Mark.
‘Oh, hi, babes,’ Jamey replied when Ellie explained who she was. There was some kind of ruckus going on in the background, and she made Ellie wait while she went and pulled a door closed.
‘So, how can I help?’ Ellie walked down to the beach and sat on one of the benches looking out over the cove, listening to Jamey’s story. Sadly, it was one she’d heard so many times before, but it never got any easier listening to another woman tell her about her abusive partner. Ellie could hear the fear in Jamey’s voice as she described what Darren had done. Anger rose within her.How dare he?
‘All right. I can help you,’ she told Jamey, as her legal brain started to fire up again. ‘The first thing we need to do is find a good law firm, and I know the perfect person.’ She had thought of Clare immediately. She’d have to discuss the case with her, but Clare seemed like one of those solid local professionals you could rely on. Ellie could give Jamey free advice, but she couldn’t fight the case for her – her firm would have had to take the case on formally, and she didn’t think they would do that. She had checked that Clare’s firm could, however – even if Clare couldn’t do it herself, being a property specialist.
‘I can’t afford no private solicitor,’ Jamey protested. ‘I ain’t got that sort of money.’
‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.’ Ellie had already decided that she would pay for what Jamey needed. It was easy enough, and a couple of days of a local lawyer’s time arranging a restraining order wouldn’t set her back that much. She wanted to do it.
Magpie Cove had shown her nothing but kindness: it felt good to give something back.
