The Mill on Magnolia Lane: A gorgeous feel-good romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘I don’t have thousands, not now.’

  ‘That’s because you throw it away on stupid things like windmills. They must have seen you coming a mile off.’

  Lizzie could have retorted that at least she didn’t drink all her money but the phone call would have ended right there.

  ‘Maybe I’ll try and see you in the next couple of weeks,’ she said instead.

  ‘You can if you want. I expect you’re busy, though.’

  ‘Not too busy for you.’

  ‘What about Gracie? Are you bringing her along?’

  ‘If I’m suffering then it’s only fair you should too.’

  She could hear his warm chuckle at the end of the line again. She was always the one who made James laugh in the same way he made her laugh, and she’d always felt it bonded them somehow in a way neither of them had managed with Gracie.

  ‘You are looking after yourself, aren’t you?’ she asked.

  ‘You know I’m not. It’s never been my style. I’ll start looking after myself when I get old.’

  ‘That’s just it…’

  Lizzie stopped herself. What was the point in airing her all-too-real fear that the wayward brother she loved so much might not reach a ripe old age if he carried on living the way he did now?

  ‘Come whenever you like,’ he said into the gap, perhaps sensing the need to fill it and spare her the pain of saying what he must have known she’d wanted to say. ‘It’s not like I have a full schedule.’

  ‘As soon as I can.’

  ‘Don’t bring Gracie.’

  Lizzie laughed. ‘I have to bring Gracie. Imagine how miffed she’d be if I snuck off to see you without her.’

  ‘I know but it was worth a try. At least warn her not to turn her nose up at my flat. And I don’t want candles.’

  ‘James – Stig of the Dump would turn his nose up at your flat.’

  ‘Good point. Let’s meet at the pub on the corner.’

  ‘Can we stay over at the pub on the corner?’

  ‘I don’t think so, but I can ask around, see who’s got a spare floor for you. One night, yeah?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Lizzie said, suppressing a sigh of resignation. James was never going to change and perhaps it was easier to accept that rather than keep trying. ‘I’m sure there’ll be a hotel somewhere close by we can get cheap on a mid-week deal.’

  ‘Mid-week’s good, actually. Mid-week is probably best for me too.’

  ‘Right then. I’ll text you and we’ll fix up a date when I’ve asked Gracie.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And James…’

  ‘Yes, Elizabeth…’

  ‘Phone Mum.’

  There was a stifled groan.

  ‘Please,’ Lizzie said. ‘You know it would make her so happy if, just once, you called her instead of her chasing you down.’

  He sighed. ‘I’ll do it when we’ve finished here. And only because you’ve asked me and you’re my favourite.’

  ‘Thanks, James. Love you.’

  ‘No you don’t.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Bye, Elizabeth.’

  ‘Bye, James.’

  Stowing her phone in her pocket, she walked slowly back to the caravan. Inside, Gracie was sprawled across the sofa, flicking through the daytime TV shows.

  ‘I thought you were having a nap,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘The builders woke me.’

  ‘I was surprised you managed to fall asleep at all with them out there.’

  ‘I know, but I’m just so tired these days.’

  Lizzie was thoughtful as she went to the sink. Should she be worried about that? Was Gracie’s mood lower than she’d realised? Was that the reason her sister was so tired? Or did it have more to do with her general lack of motivation these days? It wasn’t hard to imagine that sitting around in the caravan all day would sap the energy out of her.

  ‘Oh,’ Lizzie said, looking at the empty plastic bowl in the sink. ‘You washed up.’

  ‘There weren’t many.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘What shall we have to eat? I thought I might make a chicken casserole – cook for you for a change as you’ve done so much cooking for me.’

  ‘That sounds lovely,’ Gracie said absently. ‘But we’ll have to go and get a casserole dish first.’

  ‘I’ve got a dish; we used it last night…’

  Lizzie frowned and, as she opened the bin to see the fragments, Gracie offered a sheepish apology.

  ‘The drilling made me jump and it flew out of my hand,’ she said.

  Lizzie sighed. ‘It’s alright.’ What else could she say? The way things were going, the best she could hope for was that she’d still have a functional caravan by the time Gracie’s stay with her was over, or at least some semblance of sanity. She didn’t imagine for a moment she’d manage to keep hold of both.

  THIRTEEN

  Lizzie and Jude had been gifted a rare afternoon alone – Gracie had gone to bed again, citing the same unexplained exhaustion she’d complained about previously. Lizzie had gently asked her if she ought to go to the doctor’s, but Gracie had cheerfully informed her that she was sure it was nothing to worry about and so Lizzie reluctantly had to leave it at that. Charlie was spending the afternoon with the saintly Harriet and her little boy. Lizzie was doing her best to keep the green-eyed monster at bay and so far she wasn’t doing too badly. The fact that Harriet was sitting with Charlie and Lizzie got Jude all to herself certainly felt like a small triumph, and though Lizzie hated herself for feeling that way about it, she’d take it anyway.

  They were sitting under one of the spreading pear trees on a blanket in the garden while Lizzie gazed across at her half-finished mill and tried not to let the sight of a mud-filled hollow right outside the front door and the building equipment that had been abandoned for the last three work days because of an emergency job in Lowestoft stress her out. Instead, right now, she was talking to Jude about Gracie’s offer to buy the caravan. Even that was harder than it ought to be, because she couldn’t get the conversation she’d had with Gracie about Jude and Harriet out of her mind.

  ‘I’d take the money,’ he said. ‘You need it and she can’t be that bad to live with, surely? She’s your sister, after all; how hard can it be to get along? It seems like a win-win.’

  ‘We’re not like you and Charlie. On paper we ought to get along but… it’s complicated. Gracie and me – we’re complicated. She’s perfectly lovely but she has this…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A bee in her bonnet, I suppose.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Me.’

  He had the good sense to stifle any laughter he might have needed to expel at this point. Lizzie certainly detected some.

  She sighed. ‘I know it sounds ridiculous.’

  ‘Not really,’ he said, his expression ironed into respectability again now. ‘Sibling rivalry is a thing. Not with me and Charlie, but we’re not your average siblings. I imagine it’s a thing with others – especially sisters.’

  ‘It’s more than that. We bickered all the time as kids. We’re OK now, but I don’t want the bickering to become something more serious.’

  ‘And you think living together will do that?’

  ‘I don’t know. We’re just not designed to spend long periods of time together.’ Lizzie swatted at a fly. ‘The grass is always greener with Gracie, especially when it’s my grass. This quitting her job business and moving out here… there’s the proof, right there. When she realises the reality doesn’t quite live up to the dream it’ll be my fault.’

  ‘Your grass isn’t looking very green right now,’ Jude said, angling his head towards the churned-up ground beyond their safe little corner of the garden.

  ‘Come on, Jude – I’m trying to tell you something serious here.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘While she lived with Frank she had everything she could have wished for – holidays, nice clothes, parties – and sh
e was getting on with a proper life of her own. There’s no way she could have compared our lives and wanted what I had. But now…’

  ‘I’m sure it’s not going to be as bad as you think. You’re both older now, right? She seems pretty together to me.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Lizzie said, though there was no conviction in it. She reached for the glass of lemonade at her side. ‘I’m probably being a bit paranoid. Maybe she’s just getting used to life without Frank and she’s looking to see where it can go next. I suppose it’s all very unsettling, having your existence thrown into turmoil like that. All that unsettling is bound to make her want to seize on things she thinks will make it all better.’

  ‘Such as living in an old windmill like the little mouse with the clogs on?’

  Lizzie smiled. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Well I declare…’ He grinned, and Lizzie nudged him.

  ‘How do you know so much about nursery rhymes then?’

  ‘I was a kid once. I know this god-like form looks as if it must have been sent fully assembled from Mount Olympus on a bolt of lightning, but once upon a time I wore a nappy and drooled just like every other baby. It wasn’t pretty.’

  ‘And you have Artie. I suppose you’re always singing them to him.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘I can’t remember any nursery rhymes at all.’

  ‘I bet you can if you think for a minute.’

  Lizzie shook her head. ‘Nope, not a one.’

  ‘Not even “Baa Baa Black Sheep”?’

  ‘Oh yeah, that’s one.’

  ‘“Three Blind Mice”?’

  Lizzie giggled. ‘What is it with you and mice?’

  Jude pushed her back onto the blanket and kissed her. The leaves on the old pear tree spread dancing shadows over them and a gentle breeze lifted the scents of the wildflowers in the meadows beyond her garden to join them. Lizzie looked up at him. He was so perfect. So perfect for her, so completely and utterly right in every way. It was inevitable, then, that she’d throw a spanner in the works sooner or later because perfect was never quite as perfect as it might seem.

  ‘I thought I might invite Harrie and Damon for drinks with us on Saturday night,’ he said, rolling onto an elbow and looking at her. ‘If that’s OK with you… I thought it might be nice for you and Harrie to get to know each other a bit better, as you’re probably going to be running into one another a lot more often.’

  ‘Why will we?’

  ‘Well…’ He paused, his smile spreading. ‘Because you’re both very important to me and I really want you to get along.’

  ‘I’m sure we would get along,’ Lizzie said carefully, not wanting to refuse his request but not really enthusiastic about the idea either. ‘Will they be bringing Artie?’

  ‘They might,’ Jude said thoughtfully. ‘Not that they need to because Harrie’s mum and dad would be more than happy to babysit, but I guess Artie could stay over – he has a bed in Charlie’s room anyway and it would probably make Charlie happy. And it might be a good opportunity for you to finally meet him too.’

  ‘Would anyone else be staying over?’

  ‘You could,’ he said, weaving his fingers into hers. ‘If you wanted to.’

  ‘What about Harriet and Damon?’

  Jude frowned. ‘I suppose they would if they were too drunk to go home, but I doubt Harriet would do that if Artie is with us… Does it matter anyway?’

  Lizzie forced a smile. ‘Of course it doesn’t; I was just wondering.’

  He moved to kiss her again but she wriggled out of reach and sat up.

  ‘Jude… were you upset when you and Harriet broke up?’

  ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘Did you end it or did she?’

  Jude chewed his thumbnail. ‘It was sort of mutual.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means we both agreed it was for the best.’

  Lizzie knew she should stop but she’d started now. ‘Why? Why did you split up?’

  ‘We weren’t really working as a couple.’

  ‘So you’re better as friends now than you were as lovers?’

  Jude frowned. ‘I thought we’d been over this. I thought you were OK with Harrie.’

  ‘I am. I’m just curious, because you never said who ended it and I thought maybe she had. Did you plan to have Artie?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So he was an accident? Is that why you split up?’

  ‘No, we were happy about him.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Once we’d got used to the idea. I wouldn’t be without him now, not for anything.’

  ‘It’s lucky you can be friends still. Not many couples can be such good friends as you two are.’

  ‘Lizzie, what is this? If you’re feeling insecure about Harrie again, please understand that you don’t have to.’

  ‘Maybe I don’t have anything to worry about from you but how can you be sure about her?’

  ‘She’s happy for me and she’s crazy about Damon.’

  Lizzie was stopped in her tracks. For some reason, the possibility of Harriet being crazy about Damon hadn’t occurred to her. She just hadn’t seen any evidence of that, the day at the river, but perhaps she was wrong after all.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘That’s good. And you like him?’

  ‘It doesn’t really matter whether I like him or not.’

  ‘But it does because he’ll be around Artie a lot, especially if Harriet and Damon end up together long term.’

  ‘I trust him with Artie, if that’s what you mean. Whether I think he’s right for Harriet isn’t important.’

  ‘You don’t think he’s right for Harriet?’

  ‘Lizzie… stop worrying.’ He leaned over and kissed her. ‘You don’t need to stress about any of this. I like you and Harriet likes Damon and, like I told you before, we’re not interested in getting back together anymore.’

  Lizzie tried to smile, but he still hadn’t really answered the question that she hadn’t quite been able to frame. If anything came between Harriet and her new boyfriend, would that change things between her and Jude? Would he want to go back to Harriet and try again?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘Don’t be. I understand the way we are might look a bit weird to people on the outside.’

  Lizzie tried to ignore the turn of phrase: people on the outside. That meant people like her, and that was just the problem. She did feel like she was on the outside. She wondered if Damon felt the same when he looked in on Harriet and Jude’s friendship. She tried to dismiss the notion – she was overthinking all of this, and not only was it making her paranoid, it was probably making her bloody annoying too. That was it; no more questioning, no more mistrust. He’d told her more than once how things were, and she didn’t need to ask again. She gave him her brightest smile and pushed the matter firmly from her thoughts.

  He leaned in to kiss her again but then pulled away as his phone began to ring.

  ‘Sorry… should probably see who it is in case it’s a job or something…’ he muttered as he twisted for the back pocket of his jeans. He swiped to take the call and Lizzie fought an irrational spike of irritation as she quickly deduced that it wasn’t work at all.

  ‘Hey… it’s kind of a bad time.’ He listened for a moment before speaking again, and this time his voice leapt up an octave in his excitement. ‘Seriously? That’s amazing! We’ll definitely have to celebrate that!’

  There was another silence and, as he listened, Jude’s grin spread. Lizzie tried desperately to make out what was being said at the other end of the line but there was too much peripheral noise for her to tell. She only knew it was a female voice and it wasn’t hard to guess whose it might be.

  ‘It really is amazing news,’ he said. ‘Lizzie and I were just saying we ought to have you and Damon round for drinks on Saturday night – can you make it? We’ll get a few bottles in and toast your success!’

  After another brief
pause, he bid goodbye and ended the call. He looked up at Lizzie.

  ‘You’ll never guess what?’

  Lizzie shook her head.

  ‘Harrie’s got into the final of that photography competition with the picture of the heron she got with us that day! How amazing is that? You know, she’s so good at everything it almost makes you sick,’ he added with a chuckle.

  Lizzie held in a sigh of despair. It certainly did that alright.

  ‘And they’re going to come over on Saturday; it should be a good night.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Lizzie agreed with no enthusiasm for the plan whatsoever. ‘Brilliant.’

  * * *

  The next morning Lizzie was woken by the sounds of Gracie running the taps in the tiny bathroom of their caravan. She leaned over to retrieve her watch from the bedside cabinet to see that it was five thirty in the morning.

  ‘What the hell…’ she mumbled, slamming the watch down again and pulling the duvet over her head. Gracie wasn’t exactly known for her early rising – trust Lizzie’s contrary sister to find her hidden lark genes when Lizzie had wanted a bit of a lie-in. She listened to the bathroom door close, then Gracie’s footsteps, followed by the sound of her bedroom door slamming shut.

  Lizzie turned onto her back with a sigh. She’d agreed, finally, to her sister’s plan to buy the caravan from her so Lizzie would have the money to pour into the mill, but she was already wondering if it might prove to be a recipe for disaster. Once Gracie owned the caravan Lizzie would be stuck with her, no matter how much they got on each other’s nerves – short of leaving herself, which was hardly likely to happen when she needed to be on site to oversee the mill renovations.

  As she settled into a doze, these thoughts fading, the sound of Gracie’s bedroom door being crashed open woke her again. She listened to her sister’s footsteps, running for the bathroom as before. Biting back a cry of frustration, Lizzie threw her covers off and hauled herself out of bed. She was never going to get back to sleep now, even if Gracie could learn to be quiet for once.

  * * *