then someone else came along,’ said Ellie, ‘and it was great. I felt normal again.’
Martha looked interested. ‘And are you still seeing him?’
‘Well, no…’
‘Why, what happened?’
‘He’s moving to America.’
‘So he dumped you?’ She was outraged.
‘No, he asked me to go with him. But I didn’t want to.’
‘Why not?’
Why not indeed?
‘Because he was nearly right,’ said Ellie. ‘Just not exactly right.’
Martha said, ‘You know what being an artist means? It means noticing every last detail. The kind of tiny details other people might miss.’ She paused. ‘So what I’m interested in finding out is, why did you start blinking really fast just then?’
Ellie swallowed. ‘You mean when I looked at the water and the sun made my eyes sting?’
‘No. Come on, what aren’t you telling me?’ Martha pointed with the stick of charcoal. ‘And that big gulpy swallow you just did? I saw that too.’
For heaven’s sake, what was she, some kind of witch?
Oh well, they were here to be honest with each other. Ellie pushed her bangs out of her eyes and said, ‘You could get burned at the stake for doing that, you know. But OK, just between us, there’s someone else. But it’s embarrassing and nothing’s ever going to come of it.’
‘Why not? Is he married?’
‘No! It’s just… he’s my boss.’ There, it was out. She’d said it.
‘Well, that’s been known to happen. It’s fine. Oh,’ said Martha as something else occurred to her. ‘Unless he’s gay?’
Ellie smiled; it would almost be easier if he was. ‘He isn’t gay.’
‘Well then, what’s stopping you?’
‘He’s not interested. And the last thing he wants is that kind of complication. He only hired me in the first place because I made it clear nothing like that would ever happen. Because at the time,’ Ellie said evenly, ‘it was true. I didn’t feel anything at all.’
‘Oh, sweetheart, but you’ve changed your mind. He’s won you over. Isn’t that a good thing?’ Martha looked hopeful. ‘Maybe he’s changed his mind too.’
‘Believe me, he hasn’t. And he’s never going to know how I feel. If he did, I’d have to leave.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘Which would be awful, because he’s a fantastic boss. And I love my job. Apart from the pathetic yearny crush bit, obviously. What are you doing?’ Oh God, Martha was on her feet, folding up her easel and packing everything in her bag. Had she upset her?
‘You’re cheering me up. And I’m not going to get any work done today. I’m not a great drinker,’ said Martha, ‘but I think I’m in the mood for one now. Come on, it’s so lovely to meet you. Will you let me buy you a glass of champagne?’
***
‘You’re late.’ Roo pulled open the front door. ‘I said to be here by six. It’s six thirty.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘Where have you been?’ Roo’s nostrils quivered. ‘Are you drunk?’
‘No, I’ve just had a lovely afternoon,’ Ellie protested.
‘Drinking! I can smell the fumes!’
Roo’s newfound teetotalism had its drawbacks; she was in danger of turning into the no-fun alcohol police. ‘It was only going to be a glass each. But it was cheaper to buy a bottle. We sat outside a bistro in Little Venice and just talked and talked for ages. I didn’t notice the time.’
‘Who were you with?’
The inside of the house smelled of roast beef and gravy. Ellie’s stomach growled in anticipation; she wasn’t going to complain about this aspect of Roo’s attempts at self-improvement. She wasn’t going to tell her the truth either. There was no need for Roo to know about her meeting with Martha. It had been a perfect one-off, not to be repeated. She had promised never to tell Tony about Henry’s death and Martha in turn had promised to keep the story of the Embarrassing Hopeless Crush to herself.
‘Dinner smells fantastic. Have you done Yorkshire puddings?’
‘I did, but they look a bit burnt.’ In the kitchen, Roo peered critically through the smoked-glass front of the oven. ‘It’s your fault for being late.’
‘Sorry.’ Ellie gazed at the pans bubbling away on the hob. There were carrots and broad beans. Next to them on the granite worktop sat bowls of roast potatoes, balsamic braised onions, and what appeared to be… no, surely not…
‘What’s that?’ She pointed.
‘Sage and onion stuffing.’
‘With roast beef?’
Roo was defensive. ‘I like sage and onion stuffing.’
‘So do I.’ Ellie hid a smile; with her blue and white stripy apron and her hair spiked up in all directions, Roo was half domestic goddess, half frazzled chicken.