Gracie placed a cup of tea on the table next to her. ‘I thought I’d make you one while I was getting mine.’
Lizzie looked up to thank her but then frowned. ‘Have you only just got up?’ she asked, looking into a face that was uncharacteristically grey and shadowed and realising that she hadn’t actually noticed Gracie’s absence that morning. She’d been so absorbed in what she’d been doing that she hadn’t noticed much at all, apparently. But she was noticing now, and she could see that her sister was far from her usual bouncy self. It was true that two weeks on she still wasn’t over Frank, but as her default setting was usually Tigger on sherbet, even taking that into consideration she wasn’t back on form. At least, she didn’t look it.
Gracie ran a hand over her stomach. ‘Something I ate, I think. I thought I’d try to sleep it off.’
‘We both had the chicken last night and I’m fine.’
‘Maybe you’ve got a stronger constitution than me,’ Gracie said. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have bought that stuff out of the reduced fridge but you insisted.’
‘The stuff in that fridge is fine – the dates don’t mean anything.’
‘Yes, they do – they mean don’t eat it.’
‘We ate it in date, though. It wasn’t set to go off at midnight.’
‘Still…’
‘Maybe you’ve picked up a virus.’
‘Maybe, but I don’t see how. I’ve only been here and you’re fine.’
‘I may yet get it.’
‘You might be a carrier. Like those people who gave everyone else the Black Death but didn’t get it themselves.’
‘Wow – thanks for that.’ Lizzie picked up her tea and took a sip. She regarded Gracie over the top of her mug. ‘Are you sure it’s nothing else bothering you?’
‘Yes – I’m just under the weather. I’ll be fine.’
Lizzie didn’t felt entirely convinced by the denial, but with enough problems of her own to think about she let the matter go at that. However, there was something else she needed to bring up, though that conversation promised to be awkward. Gracie had been with her for two weeks and she hadn’t shown any signs of budging. As for time off from her job, Lizzie had no idea when Gracie was thinking of going back to work, but she couldn’t imagine that whatever leave arrangements Gracie had in place could last for that much longer either.
She put her cup down and cleared her throat. ‘Gracie—’
‘Lizzie—’
They both began to speak over one another. Lizzie gave a tight smile.
‘You first.’
‘Promise you won’t shout?’
Lizzie said nothing, but the opening gambit didn’t fill her with confidence. If Gracie had the slightest notion that what she was about to say would cause Lizzie to shout, then Lizzie probably wasn’t going to like it. It was Gracie’s turn to clear her throat and take a deep breath.
‘I’ve quit my job.’ She wrapped her arms around herself and gave Lizzie a beseeching look of a quality not seen since the time she’d accidentally knocked Lizzie’s favourite snow globe from the bedroom shelf aged fourteen, where it had, rather predictably, smashed into microscopic pieces that they’d still been finding under the bed five years later.
‘You’ve done what?’
‘You said you wouldn’t shout.’
‘Believe me, this isn’t me shouting. Why would you do that?’
‘I’m getting out of the rat race,’ Gracie said, her tone taking a defensive note. ‘Like you.’
‘I was never in the rat race! What even is a rat race? Isn’t that some crap people say when they want to excuse the fact that they can’t be bothered to work?’
Gracie pouted. ‘Don’t be like that. It’s not just you who can make fresh starts and take chances, you know.’
‘But… my circumstances are entirely different from yours!’
‘How?’
‘Of course they are!’
Gracie gave a nonchalant shrug that she would have known of old would irritate the hell out of Lizzie when they were having a serious debate. ‘Perhaps. But it’s my life and this is what I’ve decided to do.’
‘OK,’ Lizzie said, drawing a slow breath and fixing her sister with a steady gaze. ‘So, good for you if it’s what you really want. Is it, though?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘In which case, congratulations.’ Lizzie took up her mug again. ‘What now?’
‘See, you’re giving me that disapproving voice.’
‘What else do you want from me? I’m doing my best to be understanding about this, but I can’t help it if I think you’re making a mistake.’
‘How come when you do it, it’s breaking free, but when I do it, I’m making a terrible mistake?’
Lizzie sighed. ‘OK, sorry then. I’m listening now and I’m not judging. So, what are you going to do?’
‘I haven’t really thought that far ahead.’
‘Of course you haven’t,’ Lizzie shot back. She’d said she wasn’t going to judge, but it was hard not to.
‘It’s alright for you. You’re so happy here, and I was so miserable in London—’
‘You were happy before Frank dumped you, so is this more about Frank than your job?’
‘Frank was only part of it.’
‘And you think what I have here is the answer?’
‘You’re happy.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Lizzie said, her mind going back to the spreadsheet of expenses she’d just closed.
‘But you can slow down, enjoy life.’
Lizzie raised her eyebrows. ‘With this old wreck of a mill to renovate and a living to earn on top of that?’
‘You know what I mean. It’s not the same as having a demanding job.’
‘My hustle and bustle is just different, that’s all. I still have responsibilities and deadlines and all that stuff. I still have to work.’
‘I know, but they’re calmer, less fraught.’
‘That’s only how it looks from the outside. Everybody else’s life always looks better from the outside.’
Gracie sat down next to Lizzie. She seemed defeated, and despite everything, Lizzie hated to see her low.
‘Do you have any plans at all?’ she asked, her tone softer now.
‘I just needed something to change, you know?’
‘That’s all very well, but there’s a lot to think about. Like, where are you going to live with no job to pay rent?’
‘Well, I had thought…’
OK, here it comes…
‘I had thought,’ Gracie continued, ‘I might be able to stay here with you for a while longer. Just until I work out what I want to do with my life instead of advertising.’
‘I’m just not sure that’s practical, all things considered.’
‘You’ve had enough of me…’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Perhaps Mum will have me for a while.’
Lizzie almost spat out her tea. ‘You said yourself you’d kill each other inside a week.’
‘Well, that would be two less people for you to fret about,’ Gracie said with a faint smile.
‘I’d love to say you can stay with me,’ Lizzie replied, but only with the conviction of one who can make an offer knowing it wasn’t possible to make it good, ‘but I don’t think I’ll have the caravan for much longer and, with the best will in the world, I just don’t think you’re cut out to slum it in a damp, draughty old windmill.’
Gracie frowned.
‘Money’s running a bit short,’ Lizzie replied in answer to her sister’s silent question. ‘I think I might have cocked up on the calculations.’
‘Everyone always cocks up on the budget,’ Gracie said with a solemn nod. ‘I’ve never seen an episode of Grand Designs yet where they didn’t have to mortgage a kidney to get some bespoke patio doors shipped in from Germany. So you’re selling the caravan?’
‘It had occurred to me.’
‘What will that raise?’
‘Not enough.’
‘A ballpark?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe about ten thousand.’
‘Is it enough to finish?’
‘I don’t know that either.’
‘Will the bank give you more money?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Oh.’
Lizzie picked up her tea again and took a sip. God, Gracie could cook but she certainly couldn’t make a decent cup of tea.
‘Couldn’t you go and live with Mum until this place is ready to live in?’ Gracie said into the gap.
‘I had thought about that, but I don’t want to mess her around. Besides, it’s a long drive to do two or three or even four times a day. I’d rather be on site if I can.’
‘It’s only forty minutes or so.’
‘More like fifty – an hour when the traffic is bad. And that’s each time. That soon mounts up to a lot of petrol.’
‘I see. So you’re staying here come what may?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sleeping in a survival shelter fashioned from clematis branches and turf from the garden centre?’
‘Sleeping in a relatively sound corner of the mill. When I say corner, I mean…’
‘Yes.’ Gracie smiled.
‘I was going to ask Tim if there’s any chance the workmen could concentrate on a couple of rooms I could use while they carry on with the rest of the build.’
‘Will you have everything you need? Like flushing toilets and stuff?’
‘Probably not everything just yet, but I can make do for a few weeks.’
‘Weeks?’
‘OK, more likely months. Don’t cite Grand Designs again – I know these things always run over.’
‘So you sell your caravan. What if that money runs out?’
‘Then I’ll have to mortgage a kidney.’
‘So it looks as though we might both have to go home to Mother Dearest.’ Gracie gave a wry smile. ‘Won’t she just love that?’
‘Actually, I think she probably would. I’m not sure how long it would last before she changed her mind.’
‘Well, I don’t suppose I’ve got a lot of choice, even if you have,’ Gracie said. ‘Although I don’t envy your alternative much either…’ But then there was a moment of illumination and Lizzie immediately wondered whether she ought to be worried about the look on her face.
‘Here’s a thought,’ Gracie said. ‘Don’t dismiss it out of hand. What if I bought your caravan and we both carried on living here? You’d have your money and I’d have somewhere to live that I actually liked.’
‘Where would you get that kind of money?’
Gracie gave a slight shrug. ‘I said I had a little put by.’
‘That much?’
‘I could get it. Maybe I’d even ask Frank; it’s the least he can do for tossing me out like garbage.’
‘OK…’ Lizzie said slowly, ‘but it would still only be temporary.’
‘Of course. I couldn’t stay camped in your garden for the rest of my life. It’s only until you’re ready to move into the mill.’
‘And then what?’
‘Then I’d sell the caravan myself and use the deposit for a flat or something.’
‘I’d imagine you’d make a loss rather than a profit,’ Lizzie said doubtfully. ‘Caravans hardly increase in value the more they’re used. You might lose a lot.’
‘I know I’d lose a little money on it, but it might not be as bad as you think. And it would probably only amount to the same as I’d pay in rent on a flat in London for a couple of months anyway.’
‘You’ve really got access to that kind of money?’ Lizzie asked. She was still unconvinced by Gracie’s proposal, but she was fast running out of reasonable arguments against it.
‘I think I could get it.’
‘You quit your job, remember? What about money after you’ve spent all your savings on the caravan? Honestly, this just makes me even more doubtful that quitting such a good job is the right thing to do. If you’re still in your notice period you could withdraw your resignation if you wanted to.’
‘I could, but I’m not going to.’
‘You really might want to think that over.’
‘I really don’t want to.’
Lizzie drank the last of her tea and set down the mug.
‘So, what do you think?’ Gracie asked.
‘You really want to buy my caravan and live out here with me?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘You know how mad that sounds?’
‘I know.’
Lizzie sat back and appraised her sister. If she let Gracie do this, she’d almost certainly come to regret it. They both would. However, it would solve the problem of her dwindling funds without the need to get into more debt. At least for a short while anyway. She let out a sigh and Gracie, recognising that she’d given in, clapped her hands together.
‘Brilliant,’ she squeaked, looking like her normal self again. ‘It’s going to be brilliant!’
‘You know you think this caravan is crap?’ Lizzie reminded her. ‘I don’t think brilliant is what you’ll be saying in three months when the weather starts to turn cold.’
‘Oh, but your place will be ready and by then I’ll be away somewhere new!’
Gracie hugged Lizzie, who gave a weak smile. If only things went to plan like that in the real world.
TWELVE
‘Oh my God, what is wrong with you?’
Lizzie frowned down the phone at James. He could be so irritating at times, so facetious, so damn… right. He’d never been blessed with common sense where his own life was concerned, and half the time he didn’t know what day it was, but when it came to family matters he was often depressingly, annoyingly perceptive.
‘I suppose you got railroaded into saying yes,’ he continued with a lazy chuckle.
‘You know what Gracie’s like,’ Lizzie said, and her voice had the same whine she used to adopt when they were kids and Gracie would steal her favourite doll. ‘Once she gets an idea in her head, she sort of hypnotises you with her enthusiasm until you think it’s a great idea too. Once you’ve said yes the magic wears off and you see the plan with all its flaws, but by then it’s too late.’
‘I couldn’t have put it better myself. Why do you think I work so hard to avoid her?’
‘You work hard to avoid us all.’
‘Well, I’m not the one complaining because I’m stuck with Gracie, am I?’
‘I’m not complaining exactly.’
‘Then why did you phone me?’
‘You’re my brother. Can’t I phone my own brother for a chat?’
‘You could if the first subject you decided to rant about wasn’t Gracie.’
‘I didn’t rant.’
‘OK, so you were getting your frustrations off your chest.’
‘They’re not frustrations either. They’re… misgivings.’
‘OK. Misgivings. Fine, good. Glad we got that cleared up. So where is she now?’
‘Out. She seems to think the caravan needs more candles.’
‘And does it?’
‘If we were thinking of performing Catholic mass later tonight, then yeah. Otherwise, the light switches work just fine.’
James gave a warm laugh at the other end of the line. Lizzie suddenly wished she could see him. He was the black sheep of the family, and he caused everyone nothing but anxiety and heartache, but he was her brother and she loved him. She found him funny too, and she missed his irreverent take on life, because his not caring sometimes had a way of making her care a little less too.
‘OK.’ Lizzie twisted a loose thread on her sweatshirt. ‘The subject of Gracie is closed. Tell me what you’ve been up to.’
‘I dunno. Nothing much.’
‘But you’re looking after yourself?’ she asked.
‘Of course I am. Big boy now, you know.’
‘It’s just that… you don’t phone me—’
‘Not this aga
in…’
‘Or Mum either. Or Gracie. We worry, you know. If we nag you it’s only because we worry.’
‘There’s no need to worry. I just get too busy. I think about it and I think I’ll phone you, and then I get busy and I forget. Sorry.’
‘But you can see it from our point of view? You live so far away and we want to know you’re OK.’
‘So does Gracie – at least she did – but you don’t nag her to call.’
‘That’s different.’
‘How is it different?’
‘She had Frank so we knew that even if Gracie couldn’t phone us, he’d phone us if there was any trouble.’
‘Unless he was the trouble, you mean.’
‘Well, yes, that. But at least she had someone looking out for her and…’
‘I’m a sad singleton?’
‘That’s not what I’m saying.’
‘I’ve got mates to look out for me.’
‘But they’re…’
‘What?’
‘Well… it’s not the same, is it?’
‘They’re more reliable than Frank turned out to be.’
‘Well…’ Lizzie cast around for a change of subject that would pull the conversation back from the dark territory it had drifted into. ‘When are you coming to see my mill?’
‘Said no one ever.’ He laughed. ‘Who the hell buys a windmill? What are you – Rod Hull? And you all think I’m the weird sibling.’
‘It’s Dad’s windmill. You know how much he loved this place, how he used to talk about it.’
‘That doesn’t make it a good idea. There’s a reason Dad looked but never bought and that’s because he was a sane man. Probably the only sane person in the family… no wonder he ran off with Florentina.’
‘That means you’re not coming?’ Lizzie asked, choosing to ignore the jibes.
‘I would but it costs money. I don’t have thousands to spare like you do.’
The Mill on Magnolia Lane: A gorgeous feel-good romantic comedy Page 12