Autumn Leaves at Mill Grange

by Jenny Kane

  Gertrude cocked her head to the side in such a way that reassured Thea she was listening.

  ‘But if they pay Sam to film here then Shaun can’t do the excavation. I know Landscape Treasures could film the site and provide fabulous free publicity, but they won’t have much budget left for a big filming fee. Whereas Treasure Hunters are willing to pay for the privilege of being at Mill Grange, and provide Sam with a similar level of marketing.’

  Disappointed that neither of the hens suggested pretending the email had fallen into her SPAM folder so she could act as if she hadn’t found it, Thea tried again. ‘If I tell Sam, he’ll say yes. I mean, why wouldn’t he? It’s a good thing for Mill Grange, but if Treasure Hunters come here, how will I ever be able to look Shaun in the eye again?’

  Gertrude pecked at the almost-empty food tray and then peered at Thea with such an old-fashioned stare that she burst out laughing. ‘Alright, so your need for more food is way more of a crisis than me worrying about something that isn’t my decision anyway. I’ll fetch you some food, but do me a favour, girls, get your heads together and think about how I’m going to persuade Sam that waiting for Landscape Treasures would be the better option rather than taking whatever it is that Treasure Hunters mean by “a considerable sum”. Strikes me as weird they didn’t state a definite figure in the first place.’

  *

  Mabel was in the kitchen sorting through the crockery cupboard when Tina arrived back at the manor. Her trusty clipboard lay on the oak kitchen table, and a mountain of recipe books, most of which had pieces of paper sticking out of them at various intervals, were piled up to either side of it.

  ‘Hello, Mabel, what are you up to?’ Tina gestured to the open cupboard. ‘Anything you’re hunting for in particular?’

  ‘Just making sure we have enough plates, tins and cooking pots ready for next week. I’ve been putting together some sample lunch and dinner menus for approval before our first guests come on Monday.’

  Tina gulped. Monday. She wondered if she’d be here to meet Sam’s friends from his time in post-trauma rehab, or if a broken heart would have seen her off the premises. Forcing herself to sound cheerful, Tina asked, ‘What have you come up with so far? I know Sam was keen on keeping things simple but filling, and as home grown as possible.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more. Good honest home cooking is just the thing.’ Mabel opened the top book on the pile and stabbed a finger at the bookmarked recipe. ‘Leek and potato soup. Would you object if I gave it a try on the Aga? I don’t have one at home and past experience here tells me it can take a few tries to get the hang of the required temperature when you’re trying something new.’

  ‘Please, go ahead and…’ She paused. It wasn’t her decision to make was it – not if she wasn’t with Sam anymore.

  ‘And?’

  Not wanting to explain the situation, Tina smiled. ‘And I love soup!’

  *

  Thea passed Tina a glass of Pinot. The knowledge of the email from Treasure Hunters had weighed heavy on her shoulders all day. In fact the only thing salving her conscience was that she hadn’t seen Sam to tell him. He’d gone to choose new chickens from one of the local farms not long after first light, and hadn’t been seen since.

  ‘Thanks.’ Tina tucked her feet under her body as she curled up on one of the four sofas in the drawing room.

  ‘It’s going to be strange sharing the house with guests, isn’t it?’ Thea stroked the arm of the comfortable armchair in which she’d flopped. ‘Nice, but not quite so relaxing.’

  Tina sipped the chilled wine, its soothing magic coating her throat. ‘It had been on my mind to suggest that the bigger of the attic rooms be transformed into a lounge for the three of us – well, four when Shaun’s here, but now…’

  ‘Now what?’ Thea frowned. ‘Are you still giving Sam space?’

  ‘Yes. But he hasn’t said a word to me and…’ Tina felt the presence of the new letter from his mother that was now folded in her jeans pocket. ‘I can’t live with someone who won’t talk to me whenever I make a mistake.’

  ‘You don’t want to go, do you?’

  ‘No.’ Tina sighed. ‘And there’s something else. Something I should have left for him to find or taken to him straight away, but I was scared of it making things even worse and so I hid it. I hate secrets; they’re never a good idea, and let’s face it, Sam is a man full of secrets.’

  Thea shifted in her seat, the weight of her own secret hanging heavy on her shoulders. Leaning forward, she grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled both their glasses. ‘How about you tell me what you’re hiding from Sam, then I’ll tell you what I’m hiding from Sam and Shaun. Deal?’

  Nine

  September 4th

  ‘Bert, I need your help.’ Sam felt awkward as he pushed the pint of Otter Ale in front of his friend. ‘At least, I wondered if you’d mind helping me.’

  ‘Anything, Sam, you know that. Since you offered Mabel the chance to work at the manor, she’s got her bounce back. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.’

  ‘And so are we. Mabel is a born organiser. Thea and Tina are too, but in different ways. The three of them at Mill Grange will make us unstoppable.’

  Chuckling into his beer, Bert glanced around the Stag and Hound, earning himself a wave from Moira as she happily bustled around the bar. ‘You three and Shaun have done a lot for this village. Everyone is thrilled you’ll be bringing in extra mouths for food and ale as well.’

  Thinking there was something about Bert’s company that made everything better, Sam said, ‘I hope they’ll bring in extra custom for Moira, not to mention Sybil at the tea room, but not all of our guests will be comfortable with that sort of socialising. It’s one of the issues I’m hoping Mill Grange will help with.’

  ‘It will. I’m sure it will.’ Bert peered into his pint. ‘Your idea of therapy through working on things that need pride taken in them, like the renovation of the greenhouse or the cultivation of a garden, it’s a sound one.’

  ‘I know it won’t suit everyone, but I’ve been very clear in the advertisements we’ve put out about what we’re offering. Anyone who requires specific cognitive therapy needs to call in advance to see if we can help them or not. I’m not claiming to have the answers to the problems our guests have, but I’ll attempt to show them a way of living to cope with getting up every day.’

  Bert beamed. ‘Which is why you have my respect. Now, you mentioned a favour.’

  ‘Yes.’ Sam shifted uncomfortably. ‘Umm.’

  ‘Come on, out with it.’

  ‘I need to get inside the house, Bert.’ He took a gulp of his drink, wiping his hand over his lips before going on. ‘Our trainee guests come in three days. They are friends; they know they’re coming as guinea pigs, and they are all aware of my situation. However, in six weeks’ time, the first proper guests are booked in. I was sure I’d be walking around Mill Grange by then, even if only for meals and to go to bed, but…’

  ‘But you’ve been so busy making the place work for other people, you’ve forgotten about yourself.’

  Sam fiddled a beer mat through his fingers. ‘There’s another issue too. My parents have invited Tina and me to their place. They want to meet her.’

  ‘Naturally. They’ll love her.’

  ‘My mother will; my father doesn’t know the meaning of the word.’ Sam shook his head. ‘Anyway, I want to be able to go inside their house. It’s the only way Father will curb his “disappointed in my son” comments. We are somewhat estranged.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Bert frowned. ‘And you’d like me to help you learn to be able to stay inside for as long as it takes to have a meal at their home?’

  ‘Do you think it’s even possible?’ Sam tugged at his ponytail, reminding Bert of Tina playing with her plaits when she was anxious.

  ‘Yes, it is possible. I’m living proof of that. But it won’t be a quick fix.’

  Sam smiled. Bert had never told him the details of his own ba
ttle with claustrophobia, but he knew it had been serious in his post-National-Service years. ‘I’m not expecting miracles.’

  Thinking for a second, Bert asked, ‘Your parents’ home, is it big or small? I mean, do you need to deal with a modern house with relatively low ceilings, or are we talking a Victorian semi with high ceilings, or something else entirely?’

  Sam put down his pint. ‘Well, you know the ceilings at Mill Grange – think on that scale, and then add a few more rooms.’

  Bert put his glass down with rather more of a thud than he’d intended. ‘Your folks live in a mansion?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  The old man chuckled again as he regarded his friend. ‘And there I was thinking Mill Grange was an upgrade for you, when in fact it’s downsizing!’

  ‘Well, it’s upsizing from a tent, but I take the point.’

  ‘Did they come into money then? Lottery or something?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ Hoping to avoid talk about his family background, Sam steered them back to the matter in hand. ‘So, umm, what do you think might be a good starting point?’

  ‘Logically, it would be for you to walk from the downstairs bathroom to the kitchen.’ Bert held Sam’s gaze for a second, accepting the change of topic without question. ‘I think it would be a good starting point because you are used to the first part of the route, and can then get directly out to the garden from the kitchen. You’d be going from outside to outside, while tackling just the one short corridor that exists between exits.’

  Ignoring the perspiration that had broken out on his palms, Sam said, ‘I tried to walk into the kitchen from outside a couple of days ago. My foot hit the kitchen floor and I got no further. It was as if I’d hit a wall.’

  ‘I suspect that’s because it’s not a doorway you’ve tried to cross before, unlike the back door.’ Bert paused before asking, ‘Are you still going to professional therapy?’

  ‘No.’ Sam felt a hit of guilt. ‘Maybe I should go back for Tina’s sake, but it wasn’t helping. It did in the beginning; it worked wonders, but—’

  ‘But you reached the end of the line with it, hence adopting your nomadic outdoor lifestyle.’

  ‘Which was enough until—’

  ‘You met Tina and fell in love with both her and Mill Grange.’

  ‘Yes.’ Sam swallowed. ‘I’d like to do this for her as much as for me. She’s been good to me, and well, we’ve fallen out a bit.’

  ‘Fallen out, you say. I trust you have apologised.’

  ‘It wasn’t my fault.’

  Bert’s laugh echoed around the crowded pub. ‘Rule one, young man. It’s always our fault.’

  Sam lifted his pint. ‘I’m not very good at sharing.’

  ‘Something else to learn then.’ Bert stared at the table for a while, before holding his friend’s gaze. ‘I will help you with your phobia. I’ll be at the house tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. I’ll see you outside the back door. Okay?’

  Sam nodded nervously.

  ‘I can’t promise I’ll succeed any more than your professional helpers have, but I will help you take small steps each day. Overall, however, I’ll be trying to teach you what Mabel taught me years ago.’

  ‘And what did she teach you?’

  ‘That the only person we can ever really help is ourselves.’

  ‘Wise woman your Mabel.’

  ‘Yes.’ Bert rubbed at his chin. ‘Your parents, Sam, do you mind if I ask who they are?’

  ‘Lord and Lady Malvern of Worcester.’

  ‘Ah.’ Bert winked. ‘I won’t tell Mabel.’

  ‘I’d appreciate that.’

  ‘Bless her, she’d be wanting to curtsey every time she saw you.’ Bert chuckled. ‘Her knees ain’t what they were. She might get stuck mid dip!’

  September 5th

  Acting on advice from Thea, Tina picked up the letter that had arrived from Lady Malvern and put it with today’s mail. Then, with more nerves than she’d ever felt in Sam’s presence, she headed towards his tent.

  The canvas triangle looked lost beneath the bank of trees it was pitched against. Dew clung to the outside of the waterproof canopy. As Tina watched, she saw that a spider had spent the best part of a sleepless night weaving an intricately beautiful web between the main guy ropes. She felt sad as she thought of the spider’s effort being wasted. As soon as Sam opened the tent flap, the cobweb would be knocked and destroyed.

  Unsure how such a tragedy could be prevented, Tina hovered, feeling awkward about just walking in. Instead she called lightly, ‘Sam, are you there? I have your post.’ On hearing movement, she called, ‘Don’t push the tent flap back too far, there’s a spider’s web.’

  As soon as she’d said it, Tina felt silly, yet, as the morning sun caught the silver silk, she knew she’d feel guilty if she was responsible for its destruction.

  Unzipping the tent, Sam was out in seconds, his exit more of a sidle than a leap. His eyes went from the post in Tina’s hands to her eyes and back again, before saying, ‘Spider’s web?’

  Tina pointed to the gossamer work of art, which was now swaying precariously, but somehow remained unbroken.

  ‘It’s beautiful. I’m glad you warned me.’

  ‘I’d have felt bad if all her hard work was ruined because of me.’ Tina held up the post. ‘I have quite enough guilt to be going on with.’

  ‘Another letter?’

  ‘Yes.’ Tina shuffled her boots against the light covering of fallen leaves. ‘And some bills. You should look before I deal with them.’

  Suddenly seeing the damage his reaction about the correspondence with his mother had caused, Sam’s forehead crinkled. ‘But I trust you to sort the bills. I don’t need to see them unless we’re approaching bankruptcy.’

  ‘It didn’t seem right.’ She held up the blue envelope with the slopping script across the front. ‘I am sorry I responded to your mother’s initial contact without telling you. I misjudged the situation in my desire to help. It won’t be a mistake I make again.’

  Sam felt panic rise in his chest at the sight of Tina so stiff and formal in his presence. ‘What do you mean, responded to her contact? She didn’t know I was here, so you had to have written to her first.’

  Tina paled. ‘I did no such thing.’

  ‘But you admitted it. You said—’

  ‘You didn’t stay to listen to what I would have said.’ Tina swallowed, hoping Sam would hear her out this time.

  Sam was stunned. He’d spent the night deciding what to do, how to tell Tina about asking Bert for help, and to say sorry for overreacting when she had his best interests at heart. Now it seemed the crime he’d thought her most guilty of – contacting his parents in the first place – wasn’t her crime at all.

  ‘Your mother wrote to the house. The letter wasn’t addressed to anyone by name, so I opened it with the other post.’

  ‘Come inside.’ Sam reached out a hand to touch her, but then dropped it. ‘Will you come inside and talk to me?’

  ‘Will you listen?’

  ‘Please, Tina. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.’

  A glimmer of hope thawed her heart as she clambered inside, carefully avoiding the silken web.

  *

  ‘Let me get this straight.’ Sam wrapped his arm tighter around Tina’s waist. ‘You’re saying my mother wrote to the house in general asking to be put in touch with the new owner.’

  Tina nodded as she continued her explanation. ‘Yes. She was enquiring about the possibility of visiting the manor once it opened to the public. She didn’t mention you by name. It was only after I’d sent out the standard return letter we’d put together explaining that the house was no longer in the Trust’s care and wouldn’t be open to the public after all, that it clicked with me that the return address was Malvern House, and therefore your parents’ home.’

  ‘But you didn’t tell me.’

  ‘I almost did, but then I thought that if they have really washed their hands of you, then th
ey’d read that it was you in charge here and not reply.’ She sighed. ‘I should have said something. I would have if I’d seen the replies come. Thea must have collected the post those days.’

  Sam was quiet for a while, before asking, ‘Would you like children one day?’

  Thrown by the question, Tina wiped a hair from his face as she examined it. He looked tired. ‘I would.’

  ‘Me too.’ Sam took a deep breath. ‘There are three main reasons why I want to be able to go inside again. The first is you.’

  ‘Me.’

  ‘I want to sleep in a bed with you – and only partly because I desperately want to see you completely naked for prolonged periods of time.’

  Tina giggled. ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Secondly, because I’d also like a family one day. I can hardly be a hands-on dad if I can’t go into my child’s bedroom to change a nappy or soothe away a nightmare.’

  Ignoring the tear that was running down her face, Tina smiled. ‘And the third reason?’

  ‘Last night I accepted a future invitation, date unspecified, for lunch at Malvern House. My mother wants to meet you.’

  Ten

  September 6th

  ‘You haven’t told Sam yet, have you?’

  Thea sighed. ‘Not yet.’

  Tina sat on the opposite side of her friend’s desk in the converted scullery. ‘Have you told Shaun?’

  ‘No. Only you.’ Thea eyed the email list before her, ‘Treasure Hunters haven’t sent a follow-up email chasing for a response yet.’

  ‘They will though.’ Tina waved the to-do list she had written towards her friend. ‘This lot needs doing or double-checking before our practice guests arrive tomorrow. Fancy helping me?’

  ‘Sure.’ Happy to log off her laptop for a while, Thea followed Tina through the manor’s corridor, past the kitchen, downstairs bathroom, converted lower bedroom and lounge and drawing rooms, to the broad wooden staircase that led them upstairs.

  ‘First task, check the bedrooms lined up for use have clean linen, a box of tissues, a jug and glass ready to be filled with fresh water in the morning, as well as making sure everything is clean, and that no spiders have set up home in the windowsills.’