And all of that was without taking Jude into the equation. Where on earth she was going to get a moment’s privacy to spend time with him was beyond her right now. After the first couple of days, it had become quite apparent that there was no reconciliation to be had with Frank, who (Gracie had on good authority) was happily banging an intern at the advertising agency where they both worked and had probably been doing so for some time. And so Gracie was left with the conundrum of where she was going to live long term.
‘I always thought you ought to have got a place of your own instead of chucking your lot in with Frank,’ Lizzie said one day as she abandoned an article she was trying to write about the hidden paradise of Majorca’s rustic interior while Gracie wept again.
‘That’s not helping me to feel better,’ Gracie snapped. ‘If you’re going to tell me that I was wrong and you were right all along then I might as well go and live with Mum. I’ll hear it there just as often but at least she has a decent bathroom.’
Lizzie clenched her teeth. She didn’t have the energy for another spat. ‘All I meant was it makes things hellishly difficult for you now.’
‘Don’t I know it.’ Gracie sniffed. ‘You know,’ she continued, more pensive now, ‘the longer I stay here and see how happy you are without all the confusion of somewhere like London, the more I wonder if I might be happier here too.’
Lizzie opened her mouth to begin a reply, with a dread suspicion of where this conversation was going, but Gracie jumped in.
‘Obviously I didn’t mean here. I meant somewhere like here. Somewhere quieter, where life isn’t quite so competitive.’
‘What about your job?’
‘Perhaps there’s a way I can do it away from London. Or maybe I’ll chuck it all and work freelance like you do. It can’t be that hard finding work just writing little bits and pieces here and there, can it?’
‘There’s a lot more to it than writing little bits and pieces here and there,’ Lizzie said, fighting to keep her voice level. ‘And it takes time to build up a client base,’ she added, making a mental note to keep all of her current clients away from any kind of contact with Gracie. And under no circumstances could she mention her eventual plans to start producing her own bread, made with flour ground at the mill. One word about that and she’d have Gracie as a partner before she’d had time to sneeze. ‘In a few months perhaps you’d begin to get on your feet but it wouldn’t be an instant salary, not like you’re used to.’
‘But you did it.’
‘I had the luxury of living with Mum when I started out – I didn’t need to worry about a steady income in the beginning.’
‘Oh,’ Gracie began. ‘Well… what if…’
‘What?’ Lizzie prompted, though if anyone had asked her to bet on what was coming next she was pretty sure she wouldn’t get great odds on it.
‘Well… you said this mill business was costing more than you’d imagined, and you said that it’s even conceivable you might run out of money to finish it…’
‘Yes,’ Lizzie said slowly, beginning to wish that she hadn’t been quite so open with her sister about her financial predicament.
‘And since I might need somewhere to live and I might even leave London I thought perhaps…’
‘That you could live at the mill? With me?’
‘Well, yes. And I could pay rent, so that would help with your costs,’ she finished brightly.
‘The mill isn’t fit to live in yet, that’s the first problem. I need the cash to finish it way before I can consider anyone living in it.’
What she didn’t add was that if she was considering anyone but her living in it at all, the last person she’d ask was Gracie. You could love your sister but it didn’t necessarily mean you could spend prolonged periods of time in their company without wanting to throttle them.
‘But I could help you there too,’ Gracie said.
‘But I thought you didn’t have any money. Frank used to pay—’
‘I have a little left from the bits Dad willed to us and bits I managed to save from work bonuses and stuff. Not fortunes, but a nice pot.’
‘Oh. Well, wouldn’t you be better putting that towards a place of your own – wherever that ends up being?’
‘Yes, but I thought perhaps—’
‘Gracie, it’s kind of you, but I wouldn’t be able to accept your money.’
‘But I’d be living here so it wouldn’t be charity, it’d be rent. It would solve both our problems at once.’
It would be the beginning of my problems, Lizzie thought. She shook her head.
‘I just don’t think it’s the best way for you to use what you must have worked very hard to save. Trust me; you’ll see I’m right in time. I mean, what if you meet another man? You might want to move in with him, buy a place together this time instead of relying on a man letting you into his home. And where would you be if you’d used all your savings on my house? Upset – that’s where.’
‘I could never be upset with you.’
Lizzie raised her eyebrows.
‘That was when we were young,’ Gracie said, ignoring Lizzie’s look of scepticism. ‘We’re alright now, aren’t we?’
Again, Lizzie was dying to argue but she held her tongue. The only reason they were alright now was because she’d held her tongue a lot over the past few days.
‘And,’ Gracie continued, ‘I’m absolutely finished with men for good.’
‘I seem to recall hearing that before Frank. And when you’d finished with the one before that.’
‘This time it’s different. Frank has honestly smashed my heart to bits and there’s no way I can put it back together. I’ll die a lonely old spinster with a house full of cats and cobwebs between my legs if you make me go and live alone.’
‘You know I love you?’ Lizzie said gently. ‘And it’s because I love you that I’m saying no to this and I’m not changing my mind. Take as long as you need to get over Frank, but then I’m shoving you back out into the world and, one day, you’ll thank me for it.’
‘Easy for you to say with this gorgeous old mill and your perfect secret boyfriend that you won’t even let me meet.’
‘It’s not that I won’t let you meet Jude, it’s just that the opportunity hasn’t presented itself,’ Lizzie said. Perhaps the opportunity had presented itself, but Lizzie hadn’t tried very hard to grasp it. Gracie was an acquired taste for most people, and it was still early days with Jude. ‘I didn’t think you’d be up to it so soon after breaking up with Frank.’
‘I actually think it might help cheer me up. Maybe we can have dinner with him? That would definitely cheer me up.’
‘Charlie would have to come too.’
‘Charlie?’
‘His brother.’
‘Oh, well that’s OK,’ Gracie said cheerily and Lizzie could only hope that when she met Jude and Charlie she’d think before she spoke – something she wasn’t exactly famous for.
‘You do remember what I told you about Charlie, don’t you? About his special needs…?’
‘Of course I do. I’m not a complete idiot.’
‘And I’m not sure there’s enough room in the caravan for all of us and it seems a bit rude to invite ourselves over to Jude’s place.’
‘You’ve got tons of space.’
‘The mill is nowhere near finished,’ Lizzie reminded her.
‘Not the mill – the garden.’
Lizzie blinked.
‘Borrow a big table,’ Gracie continued, ‘some fairy lights in the trees, a patio heater… Voila!’ She clapped her hands together, a smile spreading across her face. ‘You’ve got the makings of a lovely al fresco dinner! It’ll be just like dining in Naples!’
It was amazing how the prospect of a little bit of Neapolitan glamour could cheer the apparently broken-hearted Gracie. But Lizzie couldn’t help a smile of her own. It did sound rather idyllic, even if the countryside of Suffolk was about as far away from southern Italy as you could get.
<
br /> ‘Alright,’ she said grudgingly. ‘I suppose you ought to meet Jude and Charlie.’
‘Absolutely. I need to see who this man is! After all, you said after Evan—’
‘I know what I said after Evan, but I didn’t mean it,’ Lizzie said, though she’d meant every word at the time.
‘Let me arrange it all!’ Gracie said, her eyes shining with a sense of purpose. Perhaps this was just the thing to stir her into action and set her on the road to recovery. Lizzie could only let her get on with it and hope she was right.
‘OK,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ll call Jude and see when they’re free.’
EIGHT
Gracie had thrown herself into full party mode. She’d already been to IKEA to buy a cheap but cute dinner table that wasn’t going to fit with Lizzie’s décor plans for the house one bit, and that would either have to leave with Gracie or be sold. She’d also bought a stack of dinner plates, cutlery, glasses, napkins, chairs and seat covers; a new dock and speaker for her iPod; a patio heater that was capable of accelerating the rate of global warming all by itself; and fairy lights in a quantity large enough to confuse any passing alien that a new constellation had exploded into the night sky where that funny little planet they called Earth had once been. But, though Lizzie was faintly alarmed that her sister might be taking this dinner business a bit too seriously, Gracie seemed proud of her achievements and the activity was making her happy. More importantly, it was keeping her out of Lizzie’s way, though the builders weren’t quite so pleased when Gracie asked them to move a great deal of heavy equipment out of the way so she could set up under the shade of a couple of spreading pear trees.
Dinner was arranged for the following Saturday night. Lizzie had pointed out that it was going to be difficult to cook in the caravan but Gracie had replied brightly that she watched Gino D’Acampo cook outside all the time on TV and it would be easy to tootle off and buy the same equipment he used. Lizzie had also wanted to point out that Gino D’Acampo didn’t often have to do battle with the rains of the English countryside when he cooked outdoors – he was usually on some beach or surrounded by sun-ripened orange groves – but instead she suggested Gracie buy an awning as well and set up her stove underneath it to prepare for any eventuality. Her sister had decided she would be chef, cooking from her station as the party got started, where she would be able to chat to Jude and Charlie without too much intensity or awkwardness, and Lizzie (who only really cooked when she had to) was just fine with that.
Friday arrived and Gracie was out getting the last fresh ingredients together. Lizzie had been savouring the peace of her absence – a silence she’d begun to wonder if she’d ever enjoy again – when she heard a car pull up outside the gates of the house. Taking herself down the caravan steps, she smiled and waved as Florentina appeared at the gate.
‘What brings you out here?’
‘Tiles,’ Florentina replied with a grin. ‘Very cheap and very nice. I thought you might be interested.’
‘And what lorry might these tiles have fallen off?’ Lizzie raised her eyebrows.
‘No lorry,’ Florentina laughed. ‘The DIY branch of our sister business is selling them off. I picked up a few samples, wanted to give you the chance to snap them up before anyone else.’
Lizzie looked at her stepmother’s hands. They were empty, save for her keys and phone.
‘They are in the car,’ Florentina said. ‘There’s far too many to bring out so you’ll have to look at them in my boot.’
‘Right – I don’t need telling twice!’ Lizzie grabbed her hand and marched her back to her car.
‘I don’t even get a welcome drink after driving all this way with your samples?’ Florentina laughed.
‘Not until I’ve had a good nosey. I wouldn’t want you to feel you’d had a wasted journey or anything.’
With a grin, Florentina opened the boot. Amongst the jumble of the spare tyre and jack, de-icer and old shopping bags lay a treasure trove of glossy-coloured ceramic tiles housed in grubby, open-topped display boxes. Lizzie almost squealed with excitement.
‘And there’s enough of any of these currently in stock to do a bathroom or kitchen?’ Lizzie asked, gazing down at the hypnotic array of colours and designs.
‘Of course it depends on the size of the room but there’s more than enough for an average one, I should say. I would take a few more than you need in case you break some because these are end of lines and you’d probably struggle to get more.’
‘And are they all different prices?’
‘All one price to you, cara mia.’
Lizzie looked up. ‘And what’s that?’
‘Free.’
‘What?’
‘My gift to you. And do not complain; they’re hardly anything to me and your dad didn’t leave me poor, so…’
Lizzie was silent for a moment. She felt guilty about the prospect of accepting such a gift, and with anyone else she might have offered an argument, but this was Florentina. Besides the fact that she was a formidable force when it came to any arguments and rarely lost them, Lizzie understood that sometimes her stepmother felt she had to make amends for the role she’d played in splitting Lizzie’s parents up.
‘I don’t even know where to start choosing,’ Lizzie said, looking down at the boxes again. ‘They’re all gorgeous.’
‘Well, you must have some ideas on your colour schemes.’
‘It’s all a bit vague at the moment really.’
‘Then how about something neutral?’
‘Ugh, I hate neutral anything!’
‘I know,’ Florentina said with a laugh. ‘Maybe start with the colours you absolutely don’t want then and put them to one side? At least that will help.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
Together they discarded all the beige, some dark greys and deep reds that Lizzie knew straight away would suck the light from any room, some navy blue that she thought would do the same and some pink florals that they both agreed were far too eighties.
As they laughed and chatted, going through what was left and discussing the virtues of each colour and design, Gracie arrived back. The first Lizzie was aware of it was a cold greeting from behind them and, instantly, the temperature of the air around them seemed to drop twenty degrees with it.
‘Hello, Florentina…’
‘You’re back!’ Lizzie said, rather obviously and with unmistakable guilt in her voice as she spun around to face her. Because, while Lizzie had been able to forgive and move on from Florentina’s relationship and eventual marriage to her father, Gracie hadn’t dealt with it quite so well, adopting her mother’s outraged stance on the matter. It was perhaps because Gracie had never been quite so close to her dad as Lizzie was. After all, Lizzie and her dad were interested in a lot of the same things – they both loved quiet days on the coast or walking in the countryside, whereas Gracie loved the brash, brightness of city life. So it was only natural that Lizzie would be more desperate to hold onto any sort of contact with her dad and make compromises to do so that Gracie could just not accept.
‘What are you doing here?’ Gracie asked, addressing Florentina and ignoring Lizzie’s statement.
‘I came to see if Lizzie wanted any of these tiles.’
‘I’m sure Lizzie can go to a shop when she’s ready to buy tiles,’ Gracie said crisply.
‘Gracie…’ Lizzie began. But Florentina stopped her with a slight gesture and forced a smile.
‘It’s alright… I should go anyway… somewhere to be… sales meeting…’ Gathering the tiles that Lizzie hadn’t yet dismissed into a single box, she loaded it into Lizzie’s arms. ‘Let me know which ones you choose and I’ll sort it out for you.’ She turned back to Gracie. ‘It’s good to see you looking so well. Are you on holiday?’
Gracie offered no reply but aimed a look at Lizzie that was capable of frying her on the spot.
‘I’m going to put this food in the fridge,’ she said.
With that, she marched
to her car and lugged the bags of shopping out. Lizzie and Florentina watched as she took them to the caravan.
‘I’m so sorry—’ Lizzie began.
‘I should have phoned ahead. I wanted to surprise you and I didn’t realise…’
‘Frank’s left her,’ Lizzie said, knowing that it was the only excuse she could offer that might cut her sister some slack for what amounted to unforgivable rudeness. ‘She’s really cut up about it.’
‘So she’s staying with you?’
‘Until she gets back on her feet.’
‘Good,’ Florentina said firmly. ‘Family is important at times like these.’
Lizzie paused, taking in the full meaning of her stepmother’s statement. ‘I suppose you haven’t heard from…’
Florentina shook her head. ‘My parents? No. Apparently it doesn’t matter that your dad died, I still defied them by marrying him against their wishes. Screw them – that’s what I say. My family are old-fashioned snobs. But I have lots of lovely friends instead…’ She reached to embrace Lizzie. ‘We’ll get that drink another time, cara mia.’
‘I’d like that.’
She watched as Florentina packed up the car, giving her a small smile and a wave as she pulled away from the house. And then she turned and stormed towards the caravan.
Gracie was sitting on the sofa with a magazine.
‘There was absolutely no need for that!’ Lizzie said, snatching the magazine away and throwing it onto the sofa.
Gracie’s eyes blazed. ‘I don’t have to like her. Especially now that Dad’s dead – she’s not even proper family anymore.’
‘Dad loved her. Maybe one of the ways we can respect his memory is by being kind to the woman he loved – did you ever think of that?’
The Mill on Magnolia Lane: A gorgeous feel-good romantic comedy Page 9