The Way to a Woman's Heart (40 page)

‘But I still don’t see why you’re not talking to Ash.’

‘Don’t you? Oh, God – I behaved like some sort of spoiled child, and if Onyx hadn’t appeared when she did I’d have blurted it all out to him. And now he just thinks I’m rude and ungrateful. Which is fair enough, but now I’ve no idea how to put things right.’

‘Well –’ Poll gave Ella another hug ‘– you’ll have to try to patch things up with him before the twentieth of July. You’ll have to be speaking to each other by then. We won’t be able to work as a team if you’re not.’

‘No, I know, and I will, or at least I’ll try. Promise.’

‘Ready, Poll?’ Billy poked his head into the kitchen. ‘If we’re going to grab a bite of lunch we ought to get a move on.’

‘Yes, ready.’ Poll smiled. She looked at Ella. ‘You’ll be OK having George for an hour or two, won’t you? If you don’t feel like it I can always drop him off at Doll Blessing’s – he gets on so well with her brood.’

‘I’m fine,’ Ella said. ‘George and I will quarry in the garden with his new lorry, or read under the trees, or go and look for fairies at the bottom of the garden, which is Trixie’s influence and his latest craze.’

‘Don’t tell me.’ Poll grabbed her beaded shoulder bag. ‘I’m fiercely anti gender stereotyping, but since she bought him those books he’s clamouring for a Flower Fairies duvet set for his birthday and it’s beginning to bother me. Right, we won’t be too long.’

‘Go and have a lovely lunch and take as long as you like – you both deserve it.’

‘And, Ella, remember, if all else fails, there’s always Plan B.’

‘What? Oh, yes.’

‘What’s Plan B?’ Billy frowned.

‘A barn-dancing young farmer,’ Poll and Ella said together, but only Poll laughed.

Half an hour later, Poll and Billy found a table by the open window in Patsy’s Pantry. The frilly curtains hung heavy and listless in the sultry air, but at least, thanks to the air conditioning and a phalanx of fans, it was far cooler inside than out. And fortunately, at lunchtime, the place was almost empty, the majority of the more elderly Hazy Hassockers preferring to gather there for morning coffee and afternoon tea.

‘. . . so my money’s on the fish and chip team from Devon this week,’ Billy said. ‘Although we’ve still got another western heat to go tonight, haven’t we?’

Poll nodded, enjoying every mouthful of her cheese omelette and salad. It was such bliss to be eating food cooked by someone else for a change. ‘I don’t think anyone will beat the fish and chippers though. So clever, making all three courses look like fish and chips, even though it was only the main that was, fish and chips, I mean.’

Patsy, clearing a nearby table, looked over. ‘You’re going to be on the telly again, I hear. Well, I must say, I said you was mad to go in for it in the first place, but you made a fine fist of it. None of that folderrol rubbish. Good wholesome food and plenty of it – some of them recipes you used took me back to my childhood and beyond, I can tell you.’

Poll beamed. High praise indeed, coming from Patsy, who, she knew from Ella and Trixie, was one of her harshest critics. ‘Thank you. I appreciate that. I know you haven’t always been quite so supportive. Either of us going on
Dewberrys’ Dinners
or me personally.’

‘No, can’t say I have.’ Patsy wiped vigorously. ‘Thought you was doolally to want to go on the telly in the first place, what with all that head-turning nonsense that goes on, and you don’t need that, Poll, do you? You’re halfway there already. But fair’s fair. You seem to have come out of it more or less unscathed. And, say what you will, that band of bad ’uns you’ve got living at Hideaway did you proud.’

‘They are not bad ’uns,’ Poll said hotly. ‘They’re all lovely people who are now my family. This is Billy and –’

‘Ah.’ Patsy nodded. ‘We knows all about him. Heard from his cousin over in Tadpole Bridge that he murdered his first wife with a bread stick.’

‘I did nothing of the sort,’ Billy protested. ‘Poor Mary choked accidentally on a bloomer.’

‘Bread stick – bloomer – where’s the difference? And accidentally? Well, that’s between you and your maker, I say. But –’ she looked at Poll again ‘– there’s one thing that does ring true about the telly. It puts pounds on you. You looked like the side of a house.’

Poll flapped her hands and stifled her giggles in her napkin. She tried to stop the giggles erupting into a snort and failed. ‘Oh, please excuse me. I’m so sorry… Er, um, yes, well, we’re watching all the heats now to see what we’re up against in the next round.’

‘Ah well, there’s the thing –’ Patsy shook her J-cloth out of the open window ‘– you needn’t get all het up because there’s no point in thinking you’ll win it. You won’t get no further. That lot from Norfolk what made everything pink – they’ll walk it. Still, you had a good try.’

Poll bit her lip as Patsy bustled cheerfully away to serve a clutch of customers who had wandered in from outside and were staring balefully at the Perspex-covered display of bag-you-etties.

‘She’s a bit outspoken,’ Billy chuckled. ‘Calls a spade a spade, doesn’t she?’

Poll nodded. ‘A good plain speaker is our Patsy. Oh, dear.’

‘What’s up?’

‘Mona Jupp and Topsy Turvey have just come in. I hope
they don’t want to sit near us. Topsy’s OK – old as the hills but still dances the cancan – but Mona can be a bit tart.’

‘After Patsy I reckon we can cope with anything. Mind you, it looks like they’re coming over this way. Must be because of the open window. Why can’t they be happy with the fan and the air conditioning? Oh, drat and damn.’

Poll frowned at him. Billy, the most sanguine of men, was rarely irritated. ‘Does the open window bother you? Do you want to sit somewhere else?’

‘No, love. The fresh air is fine – I’d just hoped we’d have the place to ourselves for a little bit longer. That was one of the reasons I asked you out to lunch. So that I could talk to you privately without the phone ringing non-stop about
Dewberrys’ Dinners.
’

Poll felt suddenly cold. All through her life, when someone had said they wanted to talk privately, it had been to impart Bad News. Whether it had been her parents or her teachers or even Dennis during the brief and disastrous marriage, those words had heralded something extremely unpleasant.

And always, she’d stood or sat, cowering and feeling sick and helpless, knowing the Sword of Damocles was just about to fall, and, well, just let it.

But that was then. Now she was a different Poll Andrews. Now she’d made a success of things and her life was lovely and she had confidence. Well, OK, not loads of confidence, but some. Now she knew she’d never be a victim again. And that was in no small part down to Billy. But if he left…

She swallowed her last mouthful of omelette with some
difficulty. Best face the horrors head-on. ‘You don’t want to leave Hideaway Farm, do you?’

‘What? No way – of course not. Whatever gave you that idea? Far from it. I never want to leave. Ever. I’ve had the happiest couple of months of my life since… well, since…’

Mona Jupp and Topsy Turvey, in summer frocks dating back at least five decades, eased themselves into a neighbouring table and did the smiles-and-nods greeting.

Poll, mightily relieved on several counts, lowered her voice. ‘Go on, I don’t think they can hear us.’

Billy shook his head. ‘Don’t mind if they can. But no, let’s not talk here – let’s go back to the barn where we know we’ll get some privacy for a while – if you’ve finished your lunch, that is?’

‘Yes,’ Poll screwed up her napkin. ‘It was lovely, thanks. A rare treat.’

‘OK then –’ Billy wiped up the remains of his egg and chips with a huge doorstep of bread and butter ‘– let’s go.’

Half an hour later they were sitting in the cool of the barn, side by side on a hay bale, watching the sun scorch its way across the parched meadows outside.

Billy sighed. ‘I’ve been watching young Ella and Ash and thinking what a darn shame it is. Such smashing kids. They could be so happy, but this last few days they’ve been as miserable as sin. I know it’s a bit of an infernal triangle there, but anyone with half an eye can see that they’re just right for each other.’

Perceptive, Poll thought, knowing that she couldn’t tell
him what Ella had so recently confided in her. But had Billy really rushed back here to their almost completed bolt hole to talk about Ella?

‘I know. But Ella, um, does have a boyfriend, and Ash and Onyx have been together for years. And I honestly can’t see that changing. I don’t think there’s anything we can do. Even if Ash did like Ella as much as she obviously likes him, there’s still Onyx. Oh, and Ella’s Mark, of course. One or more of them’s going to get terribly hurt. And it’s probably going to be Ella.’

Billy shook his head. ‘Poor little Ella… But, you see, Poll, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Ella and Ash aren’t happy. I had a darn miserable marriage and yours was – well – wasn’t the best, was it, love?’

‘Understatement of the year.’

‘Exactly.’ Billy reached for Poll’s hand. ‘I might be talking out of turn here, but what I’ve been thinking is why, when we’ve been so unhappy in the past, shouldn’t we be happy now – and in the future? Life’s so short. We clicked as soon as we met, didn’t we? And since I’ve been here, we’ve got to know each other properly, and I know my first feelings were the right ones.’

Poll smiled. First feelings? Love at first sight? Was that what Billy meant? Dare she even hope that was what he meant? She’d made so many mistakes in the past, and this was so important, she simply couldn’t make another one now.

She nodded. ‘I thought you were lovely at that first meeting. I thought you were the gentlest, kindest man I’d ever met. I didn’t know how you felt about me.’

Billy shifted on the hay bale. ‘I thought you were amazing, offering me the chance to start again – but more than that, I thought you were very beautiful.’

Beautiful? Poll relished the word. No one had ever called her beautiful. She knew she wasn’t, but if Billy thought so then that was all that mattered. She sighed happily, not daring to speak in case her voice wobbled or she cried and spoiled the moment.

‘But,’ Billy continued, sliding his arm around her shoulders, ‘it wasn’t just that. Yes, I thought you were kind and generous and selfless and beautiful, but there was something else. Something I never felt with Mary or anyone before her. Oh, I know it sounds daft saying it like this, and at my age, but right there and then – at that first meeting – I loved you.’

Poll held her breath. Was this really, really happening? To her? Poll Andrews – slapdash, chaotic, confused, and, if her parents and Dennis were to be believed, stupid and totally unlovable?

‘Poll?’ Billy looked anxiously at her. ‘Oh, Lord, Poll. I’ve upset you now, haven’t I? Look, forget I said anything – I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…’

‘Yes you should.’ Poll finally gulped in the breath she’d been holding. ‘Oh, yes, you should. Because that’s exactly how I felt, too.’

They stared at each other in delight, then Billy pulled her into his arms and kissed her gently.

He stroked her hair. ‘Oh, Poll, I love you so much.’

‘And I love you, too.’

They stared wordlessly at one another in total delight.

Billy spoke softly. ‘And now we’ve both been given a second chance at making a decent fist of the years we’ve got left and –’

Poll, still floating, stared down at his hand covering hers, then up into his gentle dark-brown eyes. ‘Are you suggesting that we should, um, put our, um, relationship on a more, er, serious footing? That we should go out together? Um, start courting or seeing each other, or whatever the current phrase is?’

‘If that’s what you’d like, then yes.’

Poll, completely overwhelmed with relief and love, beamed at him. ‘Like? Oh, Billy, I’d love it!’

Billy kissed her again. ‘Me, too… Oh, Poll, we’re going to have so much fun and happiness, but now there’s something else as well.’ Billy gently pushed her away. ‘I’ve got to say this bit now before I lose my nerve.’

Slightly awkwardly, he dropped on to one knee in front of the hay bale and took Poll’s hands in his. ‘Poll Andrews, I love you and I always will – so, will you marry me?’

The barn was silent.

‘Marry?’ Poll looked down at him. ‘
Married
? You and me?’

Billy nodded. ‘You and me. I love you so much. Oh, Lord, Poll, sorry. You clearly don’t feel the same way. The going out is fine, the marriage isn’t. It’s all too quick for you. I’ve got it all wrong here.’

‘No, you haven’t!’ Poll said delightedly, throwing her arms round him, almost knocking him off balance. ‘You’ve got it absolutely right! And I love you, too, and I’d love to be married to you. Oh, thank you.’

‘Does that mean you’ll say yes?’

‘Yes!’ Poll laughed as Billy struggled to his feet and snuggled even closer on the hay bale. ‘Yes and yes and yes.’

‘Now I’m the happiest man on the planet.’ Billy kissed her gently. ‘Mind you, we’ll have to start dating right away, won’t we?’

‘Yes.’ Poll giggled. ‘But, Billy, seriously, the getting married bit – we won’t mention anything about that until
Dewberrys’ Dinners
is all over. We’ll keep it to ourselves. It’ll be our secret until the time is right. We’ve got enough going on, and with Ella being so miserable, well, it wouldn’t be very fair, would it?’