A Wedding at Sandy Cove Read online

  Ella laughed and Wanda looked cross. ‘They sue me instead of you? Are you seriously expecting me to rid you of all accountability?’

  ‘It was your fault.’

  ‘No. It wasn’t. How about this as a compromise.’ Wanda’s cheek twitched at the word. ‘I admit to nothing because none of it was my fault. Instead of being sacked, I resign. I will give you more than three weeks’ notice of which I will work two and take some of the holiday owed to me for the third week. And we’ll make it effective from Monday because I know we have a bumper lot of brides booked in and I’m kind like that. Therefore, my last day in work will be two weeks on Monday.’ With that she slammed the door, returned to her desk where she hastily drafted a letter of resignation which she handed to Wanda.

  ‘Ella, you will regret this.’

  ‘Possibly,’ said Ella, ‘but at least it’s my decision.’ And with a spring in her step she left for the weekend.

  Saturday felt like a big day, as if it marked the start of a whole new chapter for her. Ella was up bright and early. She tied her hair up in a scarf and set to sorting out the things currently stored in the garage. She appeared to have a tendency to collect tins, and lots of boxes of fabric, wool and offcuts that she was loath to throw away but were taking up room that she now needed. There was a box of childhood keepsakes including gymnastic trophies, some books and a sad-looking teddy bear. She took him inside; he didn’t deserve to go to the tip or be relegated to the shed which was where a lot of the stuff was going to go.

  She was dragging a large box of junk out when a truck with the O’Leary Builder’s logo emblazoned on the side pulled up and reversed onto the drive. Kit jumped out.

  ‘Have you started without me?’ he called as he walked around to the passenger door.

  ‘I’m clearing out the rubbish.’

  ‘I can work around that for now. But if you’ve got anything for the recycling centre, I can take it for you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ He seemed to be a lot more helpful now she was paying him.

  Kit opened the cab door and helped down a small dark-haired boy who was clutching a woman’s bag to his chest like it was a life raft. Ella brushed her hands together to rid them of the worst of the dust and went to greet them.

  ‘You must be Isaac. I’m Ella,’ she said. Isaac stared at the ground. She looked at Kit. He mouthed, ‘He’s a bit shy at first.’ She nodded her understanding. ‘Would you like something to drink?’

  Isaac nodded. ‘I’ll have one too please,’ said Kit. ‘First rule of building: never start without a cuppa.’

  ‘Builder’s tea with umpteen sugars by any chance?’

  ‘Wow. I’m shocked. You’re assuming I conform to the stereotype,’ said Kit, with a frown.

  She was suitably chastened. ‘Sorry. What would you like?’

  Kit grinned. ‘Extra strong builder’s tea with milk and two and a half sugars, please.’

  She shook her head at him. ‘Come on, Isaac. Let’s leave Uncle Kit to get on with the work while we get the drinks.’ He frowned hard and in that moment looked very much like a mini Kit with his dark eyelashes and full lips. He held on tight to his bag.

  ‘This way then.’ She walked through the garage and a quick glance over her shoulder let her know Isaac was following her.

  Ella’s experience with children was limited to bridesmaids and page boys. She’d even fitted a dress for a five-month-old who was to be wheeled down the aisle in a flower-decorated pushchair. Thankfully they’d not been able to find a matching dress for their spaniel. She wondered how they’d keep Isaac amused all day; she wasn’t sure how old cotton reels would fare for a prolonged period.

  ‘Orange juice okay?’ Isaac nodded. ‘Is it fun having a day out at work with your uncle?’ Isaac didn’t reply. Ella put the kettle on which filled the silence for a while. ‘Do you like building things?’ she asked as she made the drinks. No reply. ‘Being a builder sounds like a lot of fun to me.’ Isaac clutched his bag and stared hard at the kitchen floor tiles. ‘What’s your favourite thing, Isaac?’

  ‘Farts,’ he replied. Thankfully Pirate interrupted the conversation by hopping into the kitchen to inspect the new arrival and made a beeline for the little boy.

  Isaac gasped and reversed away from the cat.

  ‘It’s okay. I know he might look a little scary but he’s a softy. You can stroke him if you like.’ Isaac screamed as Pirate hopped after him. ‘Or not, that’s fine too.’ Isaac screamed again. Pirate spun around. Thanks to being deaf in one ear he often misjudged where noise was coming from. It gave Isaac a few moments to scurry around the table and to take shelter behind Ella.

  The garage door flew open and in two strides Kit was in the kitchen. ‘What happened?’ he asked. Isaac ran to him and Kit protectively scooped him up while glaring at Ella. She picked up a confused-looking Pirate. Kit and Ella faced each other with their charges held securely in their arms.

  ‘He’s just a bit scared of Pirate,’ said Ella, giving the poor cat a rub around his ears.

  ‘I’m not scared,’ snapped Isaac, jutting out his chin.

  ‘See he’s fine,’ said Kit. Looking at Ella as if it had been her screaming.

  ‘Good. Here’s your drinks.’ She nodded at the mugs on the counter.

  ‘Come on, Isaac. Let’s get to work.’ He put the boy down, picked up the drinks and went through to the garage. Isaac glared at Ella before disappearing after his uncle. When she heard the door to the garage thud closed, she relaxed a fraction. Pirate’s tongue lolled out of his damaged lip. He wasn’t the prettiest feline, she knew that, but she adored him and couldn’t help feeling Isaac had overreacted.

  ‘It’s okay boy. I love you,’ said Ella, kissing the top of Pirate’s head. The cat purred his response.

  Pirate went off to have a staring contest with next door’s Persian, who was of a nervy disposition, and Ella went back to sorting out the many things she had stored in the garage. When she’d moved out of Todd’s, and back into her little semi she’d been letting out, she’d dumped quite a bit in the garage and now she realised if she hadn’t needed it in over six months it was likely she never would. She hadn’t a clue why she’d insisted on taking the framed caricatures they’d had done on holiday in Spain. They reminded her of the many trips they’d been on and made her overly conscious of her teeth. She popped them back in the box for the shed.

  Kit was removing screws from the garage door at speed and Isaac was sitting on an old paint tin peering into his bag. When she approached he quickly closed it.

  ‘You can sell this, you know?’ said Kit, tapping the garage door.

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘Saves you or me getting rid of it too. I’ll put it in your back garden for now.’

  ‘Okay.’ There was an awkward moment where they looked at each other, realised, and both appeared to panic slightly.

  ‘Screw,’ blurted Kit. Ella knew she was pulling a confused face. ‘Screws, plural. If you’ve got a plastic bag, you can keep all the screws for the door together.’

  ‘Great.’

  He held up his screwdriver. ‘Back to work.’

  She pointed to a box. ‘I’d best crack on with the sorting.’ Crack on? Great, now she sounded like a radio announcer from the 1940s.

  They worked side by side for a bit. When he asked, she helped him move the garage door, which was far lighter than she’d imagined it would be, into the back garden and they propped it against the shed. Kit dropped the back of the truck to reveal a number of grey blocks. She suddenly had visions of the front of her house looking like a bus shelter.

  He clocked her expression. ‘It’s okay. They’re for the inside. You won’t see them when I’ve added the wall lining and plastered it. And one of the brickies who works for me will pop by to match the bricks to the rest of the house and build up the front wall.’

  She was relieved. ‘What about the window and door?’ She had visions of him bricking the whole thing up.

  ‘I’ve order
ed the same to match what you’ve got but you can have something different if you like.’

  ‘I meant for tonight. There will be holes in my house.’

  ‘I’ll board it up. It’ll be fine.’

  She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of part of her house looking like a squat, but it was only temporary. A gust of wind blew through the garage and Ella saw Isaac flinch. That was the thing with the Norfolk coast – even in summer the wind was chilly. ‘He’s welcome to watch TV,’ she said. Isaac’s head spun around and for the first time he smiled.

  ‘I’d rather he was where I can watch him.’ Isaac’s smile flipped upside down.

  ‘There’s no damage he can do in there. I need to get some lunch anyway, so I’ll keep an eye on him.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Kit and Isaac jumped to his feet.

  ‘Come on, Isaac, let’s see what’s on the TV.’

  ‘Have you got Disney Plus?’ he asked.

  ‘Sorry, no.’

  ‘Sky?’ She shook her head. ‘Netflix?’ His voice had a more desperate edge with each question.

  ‘No but I’m sure we can find something you’ll like.’ She really hoped that would be the case.

  They entered the living room and Pirate yawned and stretched. Given the earlier incident she was quick to reassure Isaac.

  ‘He won’t hurt you, Isaac. He’s very friendly.’

  ‘Rufus doesn’t like cats,’ whispered Isaac.

  Ella felt a memory stir somewhere in the back of her mind. She’d had an imaginary friend at that age too. As an only child it was a comfort to have someone to play with and also to blame when things went wrong. And in this instance they were handy for expressing your emotions through. ‘It’s okay. Pirate will love Rufus.’ Isaac looked unsure. ‘I promise. Pirate loves everyone.’ She nodded and Isaac looked relieved. He put his bag on the sofa next to him, took over the remote control and scrolled through the channels like a pro. He was quite the connoisseur. Ella left him to it and went to fix herself some lunch.

  She was cutting her sandwich in two when Kit came in. He had that glow about him that men get when they’ve been doing manual work. He held up an aluminium foil package and a Paw Patrol lunchbox.

  ‘I can guess which is yours,’ she said, nodding to the lunchbox.

  ‘I never miss an episode.’

  ‘Have a seat,’ she said.

  ‘I’m a bit dusty.’

  ‘You look fine to me.’ As she said it, she felt her cheeks flush. Thankfully Kit seemed oblivious.

  ‘I used to eat lunch in the cab if I was working on a job but I haven’t got my hands dirty for quite a while.’

  ‘What do you fancy?’ Her cheeks began to burn. ‘I mean I’ve got Diet Coke that’s cold or there’s always a non-stereotypical cup of tea?’ she offered.

  He smiled and it reached his eyes. ‘Coke would be great, thanks.’

  She was getting the can from the fridge when all hell broke loose in the living room. The sound of things crashing to the ground was mixed with Isaac squealing. Ella and Kit dashed from the kitchen. Unfortunately, they both tried to go through the doorway at the same time and then lost valuable moments as their manners got the better of them and they each offered for the other to go first before Kit dashed through and into the living room.

  Ella wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find and given the scream she had feared the worst. The crash had been a row of books coming off the bookshelf and taking her money plant and pot down with them. It now lay in pieces with earth strewn across the floor. Isaac was standing on the sofa – he looked unharmed, which was a relief. The cause of the clatter was the cat on the bookshelf. Pirate was frantically sniffing up and down but on closer inspection it appeared he wasn’t alone.

  ‘Arghhhhhh!’ shouted Ella, pointing to the next shelf up where a pale grey rat was peering over the edge at the cat.

  Kit strode over and scooped up the vermin. Ella let out an involuntary squeal. This guy was hardcore. She’d have wanted a full hazmat suit and a baseball bat before she would have gone within ten feet of the rodent. He cupped it in his hands. She was about to suggest they put it in the wheelie bin or over next door’s fence when Isaac opened up his handbag and Kit dropped the rat inside. Ella blinked. Pirate was still stalking up and down the shelf. His good eye having missed the rat above his head.

  ‘What the—?’ She looked from Isaac and back to Kit who gave her a cheery shrug.

  Isaac pouted hard in Ella’s direction. ‘You promised he’d like Rufus,’ he said accusatorily. She had no idea what to say.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lucy hadn’t heard any more from the father in the Maxwell case and based on conversations with the mother, she and the children seemed to be coping fine in their temporary home. The daughter refused to share her injuries with anyone, not even her doctor, so there was a lack of evidence and she was insisting that the police weren’t brought into it. Lucy could still use the situation to argue that the father shouldn’t have shared custody but instances where there was proof of abuse or admission of guilt were simpler. Lucy hadn’t signed up for this career because she was looking for something simple. She enjoyed the trickier cases. It made her feel like a detective piecing everything together. Although this time the outcome she was after wasn’t a conviction but an opportunity for her client to move on.

  And all because they fell in love and got married. At least her own mother had never married, that was a blessing given all the losers she had dated. Random men had swanned in and out of Lucy’s life – some were indifferent to her, others thought they had the right to order her about and a couple even gave her the occasional slap when it suited them. It made her cross to think of it. Although it wasn’t the men she blamed, it was her mother.

  Thankfully most clients were straightforward and no violence was involved, they simply got bored with their spouse and that was what caused them to have affairs or start to hate each other. Oddly she did see the same people returning. Usually a few years later but here they were again in the same situation although second divorces could be even more complicated as there were often children from previous marriages to consider. Messy didn’t even cover it.

  Her approach to relationships was infinitely better. Why buy the whole pig when you only wanted the sausage? It was still a mystery to Lucy why people seemed to abandon all common sense when they fell in love. Maybe the fact she had never felt that strongly for anyone explained her lack of understanding. Or, perhaps, as she frequently wondered, was love entirely a myth? Something conjured up by Hollywood to make money. Convention still dictated that you were meant to find a mate and settle down, there was also the animal instinct to have offspring – Lucy mused that it was simply a combination of those factors that led usually sane people to declare they were in love and abandon all sense.

  Whatever it was it kept her in business. She finished a client meeting and returned to her office to find a large box on her desk. For a moment she was cautious – had Mr Maxwell sent her something threatening? She didn’t own a horse or a rabbit but she now feared for her garden gnome. Then she remembered the hen party items she’d ordered. Lucy was keen to get into the spirit of things and if Lorraine wanted them all to dress up in cowgirl-themed clothes then she wasn’t going to be like the kid who wore their school uniform on mufti day. Although she had frequently been the kid who had no uniform on any day. She opened up the box, pulled out the invoice and quickly checked everything was in order. Whip – check. Cowgirl hats and crop tops times two – she’d also ordered for Ella because she had enough on her plate right now without having to worry about hen night shenanigans. She ticked them off as she put them on her desk. Neckerchiefs in green, two packs of willie straws and a penis-shaped whistle. There was a cough from her doorway where her boss was surveying the scene.

  He went a similar shade of pink to the straws. ‘Actually. I can see you’re busy. I’ll come back later.’ Lucy resolved to keep a pack of willie straws in her drawer if that wa
s all it took to fend off additional work coming her way. She smiled to herself as she returned everything to the box.

  After a good day she walked to her car carrying her large box of hen night novelties. Even though it was a warm June evening, and still light at nine o’clock, she now parked in a well-lit car park in direct view of a security camera. If she was going to be assaulted or kidnapped she at least wanted there to be unequivocal evidence when it came to prosecution. She scanned the area as she neared her car. There was nobody else about. She noticed something under the windscreen wiper. Most likely a flyer for a DJ she’d never want to see or a car washing service she didn’t need. She rested the box on the bonnet and unfolded the note. She froze. It was a note from Mr Maxwell. It was polite and requested that she meet up to allow him to tell his side of the story and once again he professed his innocence. Panic shot through her. She could hardly defend herself with the willie straws this time. Lucy automatically spun around but quickly realised she was alone and the note had likely been left hours earlier. She wanted to screw it up and throw it on the ground but this was evidence of his continued harassment, so she folded it up and put it in the side pocket of her bag. She flung the box in the boot and hurriedly got in the car. She gave a quick glance in the back to check she was alone and locked the doors. She’d be glad when this case was over.

  ***

  Ella was desperately busy at work. There was no way she could complete everything in the remaining two weeks – it was impossible. But it didn’t stop her wanting to. She hated the idea of letting anyone down. She didn’t know if Wanda had found a replacement yet because she wasn’t talking to her unless strictly necessary. Wanda called her through to confirm a dress could be altered. She felt a pang of disappointment that she wouldn’t see the finished article.

  The woman was in her thirties with a classic hourglass figure and the dress looked stunning on her. Ella made some adjustments around the bodice and then jotted down some additional notes for whoever took over.