A Winter's Wish. Alice Ross

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СКАЧАТЬ her head, causing her pigtails to swing from side to side. ‘Nobody. Ever.’

Chapter Two

      ‘You look nice, dear.’

      Ella Hargreaves bit back a satisfied smile as she wandered into the kitchen of Stanway House, where her mum sat at the table with a mug of tea and a copy of the local newspaper. ‘Thanks,’ she replied. ‘But it’s only an old pair of jeans and a tatty T-shirt.’

      From behind her reading glasses, Mona Hargreaves arched a dubious brow. ‘There’s nothing old or tatty from where I’m sitting. And I hope you’re putting a cardigan on. You’ll catch your death in that top.’

      Ella gave a dismissive toss of her long chestnut locks. ‘I’m babysitting, Mum. Which means I’ll be indoors all evening.’

      Mona narrowed her eyes. ‘Just watch what you’re doing, that’s all.’

      Ella planted a kiss on the older woman’s plump cheek. ‘You worry too much,’ she said, before uttering something about being back about eleven, and making a hasty retreat. Honestly, as much as she loved her mum, it did unsettle her sometimes just how perspicacious the woman could be: like she had x-ray vision that drilled right through to Ella’s mind. Because, as glib as Ella’s reply had been to the “looking nice” comment, she’d actually invested a great deal of effort preparing for this evening.

      In addition to the hour banishing every one of her natural, much-hated curls with straighteners, she’d spent an age applying her make-up, including the new glittery green eyeliner and peachy lip gloss she’d bought earlier in the week. By far her most successful purchase during her shopping trip to Harrogate, though, had been the pink push-up bra, which gave her cleavage a boost she previously would only have thought possible with a surgeon’s knife and some silicone implants. Showcasing her newly boosted assets in a low-cut lilac T-shirt, and her long slender legs in faded jeans with the requisite rip at the knee, Ella looped a woollen scarf around her neck and tugged on her khaki parka in the hall, before making her way to The Cedars, excitement swirling about her stomach.

      Having left school after her A-levels in the summer, Ella had decided to “take a year out”.

      ‘Only a year, mind,’ her mum insisted. ‘If you haven’t sorted yourself out by next August, you can enrol in a business studies course. There are always lots of jobs in offices.’

      Plenty of jobs in offices there might be, but Ella didn’t want any of them. The thought of pushing bits of paper around for the rest of her life made her nauseous. But she honestly had no idea what she wanted to do. Unlike her siblings. Harry was out in Papua New harr doing something with anteaters for his PhD; Honor and Mark were both studying medicine; Robert was ploughing his way through to becoming a barrister; and Olly had just started his architect’s course. Add to this the fact that her father was a physics professor at Leeds University and her mother a biomedical scientist, and Ella could not have felt like a bigger underachiever if she’d had the words tattooed in neon across her forehead.

      While her siblings sailed through life attracting top grades with a magnetic-like force, thriving on the pressure of tests and exams, Ella had been a jittering bag of nerves at every one of her A-level sittings, scraping a measly B and two C’s – embarrassingly not enough for her to be offered a place on the journalism course she’d been considering. The look of disappointment on her parents’ faces when she’d informed them of said results would stay with her for a very long time.

      And so Ella had more or less resigned herself to being a failure. And, by taking a year out, knew she was merely postponing the inevitable. At some point she’d have to bite the bullet and enter the world of proper work – earn enough money to support herself. But doing what? So tired was she of contemplating that question that she’d neatly bundled it up and lodged it in an “only to be visited when absolutely necessary” crevice of her mind. As naff as it sounded, she’d convinced herself that this year was all about “finding herself”. Or, at the very least, stumbling across something she derived a soupçon of satisfaction from.

      ‘You can’t sit around doing nothing for a year, though,’ her mum proclaimed, the moment Ella’s exams had finished. ‘You’ll have to find a job.’

      So she had. She’d headed straight up to Buttersley Manor to enquire about work, and the following day began waitressing in Annie O’Donnell’s tearoom. Ella loved working there. The entire manor house, owned by Annie’s best friend, Portia, had recently been rescued from its dilapidated state, and beautifully refurbished and restored. It now offered a range of immensely popular courses throughout the year, including photography, cookery, dancing, and writing. Those visitors, combined with locals and day-trippers, all swarming to the Stables Tearoom for freshly squeezed orange juice, frothy hot chocolate, and Annie’s mouth-watering cakes, conspired to make the place a hive of activity every day of the week.

      Ella enjoyed the buzz, the banter, the generous tips and last, but certainly not least, the fascinating mix of individuals. People came from all over the country to attend the courses – interesting people who seemed to know stuff about everything: politics, books, music. People who’d travelled widely and had fascinating tales to relate.

      Not that Ella ever joined in any of these conversations. For one thing, she was never invited to, only mustering snippets as she set down lattes or scones, or cleared a nearby table. But mainly because she couldn’t join in. Her knowledge of politics stretched only as far as the name of the prime minister; the only serious books she’d ever read were those forced on her by her teachers; and she didn’t think any of the manor’s well-heeled visitors would be remotely interested in the latest One Direction album. As for being widely travelled, the furthest she’d ever ventured was to London on a school trip. Yet another disadvantage of coming from a large family, she concluded. With six kids for her parents to lug around, not to mention the expense, holidays to Disneyland or Spain had been experienced vicariously through mates at school.

      Nonetheless, Ella enjoyed collecting these oddments of conversation – these insights into other people’s lives. Not, she was aware, that this little sideline would sit well on any proper job application form. But as she didn’t have any proper job application forms to complete at the moment, she wouldn’t waste time worrying about her future tonight. Indeed, she couldn’t have worried about it even if she’d wanted to. Because she was far, far too excited. And even now – five months on – still ever so slightly chuffed with herself for exploiting this opportunity when it first arose …

      One day, when she’d been working at the tearoom for a few weeks, Ella had been taking a bag of rubbish to the bins outside when she’d overheard Annie on her mobile.

      ‘Oh no. What a pain … No. Honestly. It’s fine. Don’t you worry … Let me know when you get back … Okay. Bye.’

      ‘Shit!’ she exclaimed, just as Ella appeared round the corner. ‘Oops. Sorry, Ella. That wasn’t aimed at you. I’ve just had a call from Miranda, my partner in the party-planning side of the business. She’s been to Portugal for the week and was due to fly back this afternoon in time to supervise a big birthday party. But now her flight’s delayed, which means I’ll have to do it. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but Jake’s in Glasgow at a book-signing and I don’t have anybody to look after the kids.’

      Ella’s stomach leapt. ‘I can look after them if you like,’ she gushed, hoping she didn’t sound overly keen.

      Annie’s emerald-green eyes grew wide. ‘Oh. I didn’t mean … That is, you don’t have to—’

      ‘It’s СКАЧАТЬ