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

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘You should paint it pink,’ Florentina said with an approving nod. ‘Or lilac. Really get it noticed, make it a landmark – you know?’

  ‘Pink or lilac? It would do that alright,’ Lizzie replied, arching an eyebrow. ‘I’ll stick with a nice Cornish cream – it’s already enough of a landmark just being a mill.’

  ‘Well, yes. But you could make it look so adorable. Wouldn’t you just have to stop at a windmill that was painted lilac?’

  ‘It would look like the ride that Disney rejected for Dumbo Land,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘Exactly! Completely adorable!’

  Lizzie grinned. But then her thoughts turned to more practical matters and her smile faded. ‘Look, I’m sorry about Gracie—’

  Florentina wafted away the apology. ‘I’m used to it by now, and it won’t put me off coming to see you. You are my friend. I suppose I have no claim to any goodwill from any of you really, but I’m grateful for yours at least.’

  ‘Believe me, my life would be easier if I could see you as the wicked stepmother and close ranks with the rest of my clan, but I can’t.’

  ‘That’s because you are a good person.’

  ‘Hmmm, fat lot of good it does me.’

  ‘I believe in karma, Lizzie. Your reward will come.’

  Lizzie raised her eyebrows but said nothing. It was good that Florentina believed in karma because sometimes Lizzie wasn’t so sure.

  ‘Have you thought any more about using the mill to make money? You said last time we spoke that you had an idea or two.’

  ‘As a matter of fact I have.’

  ‘And would you like to tell me or is it still a secret?’

  Lizzie snapped the head from a stalk of long grass. ‘I don’t know that it’s secret; just a bit of a dream, I suppose. I’m still weighing up how realistic it is.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you tell me and I’ll tell you what I think?’

  Lizzie nodded. Florentina wasn’t proposing to give her opinion for the sake of being opinionated, and she would never weigh in on matters she knew didn’t concern her – she was merely trying to support and encourage Lizzie, as she always had.

  ‘I want to get the mill milling again.’

  ‘Isn’t that going to be difficult if you’re living in it?’

  ‘The bottom section that runs off the main trunk used to be the miller’s dwelling. It’s small but I could turn it into a little gift shop or a café or bakery or something. It doesn’t bother me to live around and beneath the workings in the main section.’

  ‘It would be noisy and dusty.’

  ‘Only when the mill was running, and I don’t think it would be so often – perhaps a few times a week. I’ve been talking to a lady who owns a mill up the coast – she runs her sails at weekends mostly so visitors can come and see. She says she doesn’t get much call for it in the week, but she will start them up for coach parties who book in advance to come mid-week and show them around. She sells the flour she makes in a shop on site and has a café with goods made from the flour she produces too.’

  ‘Wow…’ Florentina stepped back and raised her gaze to the great, sweeping walls of the old structure with a nod of approval. ‘So you’re planning to have a café too?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Lizzie said, more animated now with the encouragement of Florentina’s response. ‘I’m mostly aiming to produce bread for sale, though. Artisan stuff – unusual and historic recipes, rustic, home-produced and completely organic. I could sell to farm shops and specialist food outlets. And I can establish an online presence easily enough too – obviously I’ve had tons of experience there. I think it’s doable.’

  ‘You have thought of everything.’

  ‘Not quite. But I’m arranging to visit the lady up the coast and she’s going to give me some pointers so I hope to be up to speed soon enough.’

  Florentina nodded slowly. ‘And you’re planning to run all of this alone?’

  Lizzie shrugged. ‘Gracie will think I’m nuts when I tell her. So will Mum and James, come to think of it – they already think I’m nuts for buying the mill in the first place.’

  ‘Sometimes, when the mad ideas take off, that’s when everyone else wishes they’d had the courage to try them out. How much will you need to get this going? Have you budgeted for it in the build costs?’

  ‘I had – sort of. But I think that will all get eaten up by the build itself now. If I do go down the road of trying to make it a viable business, it’ll have to be a bank loan of some kind, I expect. Although God knows what bank will give me that because I’m already up to my neck in debt. I think I’d have to do a pretty persuasive job of selling the idea to them, but I’m willing to give it a go. If I don’t get what I need at first, then I’ll have to keep trying every avenue until I’ve exhausted them all. After that…’ She shrugged. ‘Well, I haven’t thought about it yet.’

  Florentina was silent for a moment, eyes shielded from the sun as she looked up at the mill, its new render drying into camouflage patches in the sun.

  ‘How would you feel about a partner?’ she asked finally.

  ‘Who would that be?’

  ‘Me, cara mia.’

  It was Lizzie’s turn to be silent. She glanced back at the caravan where Gracie was having one of her now frequent lie-downs – or sulking, as Lizzie preferred to call it – and then back at Florentina, who held her in a measured gaze.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lizzie said. ‘You’re really interested? It wouldn’t be a safe place for your money at all.’ And it wasn’t just the safety of Florentina’s money that worried Lizzie, though she couldn’t say so. Her stepmother’s offer was tempting, but Lizzie would have to find some way to make her family accept such a situation.

  ‘I realise that. I can’t promise anything at this stage, but I am intrigued. It’s just the sort of plan your dad would have liked.’

  Lizzie smiled. ‘It is that. I think I’d like a partner very much, but I don’t want to leave you short or risk money you might need.’

  ‘Your dad made sure I was alright, and I can still work because I would be more of a silent partner – I’d only be involved in the financial side of things. All the hard work would be down to you, I’m afraid; you can’t imagine how attached I am to these very expensive acrylic nails…’

  Lizzie grinned. That wasn’t true, because when the chips were down Florentina always got stuck in, but she loved to give the impression of glamour regardless.

  ‘I must admit it’s beginning to sound very doable,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘Do some research and find out what we’d need to start up. Then we can talk some more – how does that sound?’

  ‘Brilliant! Maybe in that case you could come and visit Kestrel Mill with me too? It’ll give you an idea of where your money might be going and whether you think it’s worthwhile or not.’

  ‘Won’t Gracie want to do that with you?’

  ‘Gracie will have to grow up a bit and accept my choices. If you’re going to be involved in this business then you should come to see Kestrel Mill. I need someone here to look after the build anyway and Gracie can do that.’

  Florentina looked doubtful. ‘Let’s get the basics down first. If you want to go and see the mill to get some idea of whether it’s work you feel confident to undertake then by all means go. If it becomes a reality, then we’ll see about visiting together. There’s no point in me driving a wedge between you and your sister for nothing.’

  ‘You wouldn’t—’ Lizzie began, but then she looked at Florentina’s face and she knew that her stepmother was right, even if she didn’t want to admit it. Gracie wouldn’t like it at all, and while it wasn’t really any of her business, there was no point in winding her up if they didn’t have to – things were complicated enough already.

  * * *

  Lizzie and Jude were painting an old cabinet he’d bought for her. Lizzie had immediately fallen in love with it, but when she’d asked him where it was from he’d just tapped the side of his nose an
d told her he had his sources. Lizzie realised that it had probably come from Harriet’s grandfather’s reclamation yard, and she tried not to let the fact bother her, not least because even she could see how incredibly ungrateful that would be. The cabinet was being transformed with the help of some cream chalk paint, though Lizzie had said more than once she had no idea how she was going to keep it away from the dust the builders were constantly kicking up when it was finished. But they’d both agreed that keeping busy was the only way they wouldn’t be texting Gracie every two minutes to see if all was well with her and Charlie. Once they got stuck in, it had been a lot of fun too.

  Lizzie put down her brush and wiped her hands down her overalls as the sound of a car pulling up at her gates caught her attention, and she turned to see Charlie tumble out and race to meet them.

  ‘Gracie’s car is fast!’ Charlie squeaked, setting a look of alarm on both Lizzie and Jude’s features. ‘And we saw alpacas! They’re so fluffy! They scratch a lot and they love grass!’

  Jude’s features relaxed into an indulgent smile. Charlie’s voice couldn’t have got much higher if he’d taken a lungful of helium, and you couldn’t be anything but happy to see him so excited.

  ‘They were so cute!’ Charlie added with a huge grin. ‘They said we could buy one!’

  ‘Charlie!’ Jude laughed. ‘Where are we going to keep an alpaca?’

  ‘They said people could buy one,’ Gracie cut in, joining them now. ‘I don’t think they meant us in particular. Though they were utterly adorable…’ It was hard to know who’d been more taken by the alpacas, because her sister was wearing a grin as wide as Charlie’s.

  ‘Maybe we should get one,’ Lizzie said. ‘Gracie looks smitten too.’

  ‘Yes!’ Gracie cried, taking Lizzie by surprise.

  ‘I didn’t actually mean—’

  ‘We should totally get one!’ Gracie continued. ‘More than one! People could come and pet them – they’d pay money… I mean, I would. We could make them an attraction and I bet there aren’t any other mills with alpacas. Oh, we could make jumpers from their wool! In fact, we could have lots of animals—’

  ‘Steady on,’ Lizzie said, and her laugh was rather less assured and more nervous now. When Gracie took hold of an idea, she really took hold. ‘We don’t know the first thing about alpacas, and nobody said anything about making the mill a tourist attraction.’

  Gracie raised her eyebrows in vague disbelief. ‘Well, what else are you going to do with it? What’s the point in owning a stonking great windmill if you’re not going to let people come and look?’

  ‘I’m going to live in it for a start.’ Lizzie exchanged a brief look with Jude. ‘And further than that I haven’t figured out yet.’

  ‘But you can’t just live in a place like this!’ Gracie insisted. ‘People will drive to see it anyway – they already do and it’s not finished yet. At least make some money out of that!’

  ‘Do they?’ Lizzie asked doubtfully.

  ‘Haven’t you seen the cars stopping to see?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Well they do.’

  It wasn’t that Gracie was mooting an idea Lizzie hadn’t already mulled over herself many times, it was just that her sister had a habit of taking the most tentative, half formed of ideas and running with them. Of course, Lizzie had discussed just this subject with Florentina only a day before, but Gracie was another matter entirely. But it looked as if Gracie had been having ideas of her own after all, and she hadn’t needed Lizzie to spark them. She’d expect to play a part in these plans too, and once again Lizzie reluctantly had to admit to herself that it wasn’t what she wanted, guilty as the thought made her feel.

  While this conversation had been happening, Charlie had gone into the garden to fetch a chair. He appeared with it now and placed it solemnly behind Gracie, giving her a silent, pleading look.

  ‘What’s that about?’ Jude asked him.

  ‘Gracie needs to sit down,’ Charlie said, ‘like before.’

  Both Jude and Lizzie turned to Gracie now with their own silent questions.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Gracie waved a hand for Charlie to take the chair away. But Charlie only looked pained by her refusal to sit down. ‘Really,’ she insisted, ‘I’m alright now.’

  ‘The alpaca lady said you ought to go to hospital,’ Charlie said.

  Lizzie looked sharply at Gracie now. ‘What’s this? What happened?’

  ‘It was hot,’ Gracie said. ‘I had a little heatstroke.’

  ‘You love the sun and you’ve never had heatstroke in your life.’

  ‘There’s a first time for everything,’ Gracie said irritably.

  ‘Don’t give me that. You’ve been odd for a while now – tired, moody…’

  ‘I am not moody!’

  ‘Tell that to Florentina.’

  ‘That’s not moodiness; I just don’t like her. It doesn’t matter how I feel, I’ll always dislike her.’

  ‘Alright then, you’ve generally been odd and you can’t deny that.’

  ‘I don’t think I want to have this conversation in front of your boyfriend,’ Gracie hissed.

  ‘What sort of conversation do you think we’re about to have?’ Lizzie’s hands went to her hips.

  ‘She had a funny turn,’ Charlie said, taking Gracie’s elbow despite her protestations and trying again to lead her to the seat.

  ‘Charlie!’ Gracie shook him off, and his look was one of such profound and wounded shock that Gracie’s bottom lip began to wobble while Lizzie and Jude simply stared at her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Gracie said, her voice wavering to match her lip now. ‘I’m so sorry, Charlie, I didn’t mean…’

  Charlie crossed to Jude at his beckoning, where Jude placed a protective arm around his shoulder.

  ‘Gracie,’ Lizzie said gently, ‘tell me the truth. Are you… could you be pregnant?’

  Gracie finally collapsed into the seat Charlie had fetched for her and nodded, eyes misting.

  ‘Yes,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I didn’t want to believe it, but… I’m having Frank’s baby.’

  FIFTEEN

  Lizzie had called a crisis meeting. Gracie’s news was too big for her to handle alone and, besides, as Gracie would hear no mention of any plan but to keep her baby, it made perfect sense that they break it to their mum sooner rather than later. Lizzie had to agree with Gracie’s wish, and she would have been equally surprised to hear anything else from her sister. So they were gathered around the table in the caravan now, Lizzie having driven to fetch her mum once Jude and Charlie had been sent home with apologies and promises to keep them updated.

  Lizzie poured tea from the old brown pot for Gracie and her mum. When it was just her and Gracie, she always dropped teabags into mugs and mashed at them like her dad used to when he made tea at the old allotment he’d loved so much, but that would never do for Gwendolyn. It had taken Lizzie a while to locate it, but considering the news they’d just broken to her – both sisters feeling like a pair of wayward teenagers who couldn’t be trusted to live alone rather than fully grown women – the teapot was a small approval point that Lizzie could produce to make her mother’s mood a little more receptive, so she persevered until it had been found beneath a pile of old rags under the sink.

  ‘I think he needs to be told.’ Gwendolyn stirred her tea with a rather more aggressive action than it needed. Surely her one sugar would have dissolved without the need to apply quite so much force. Lizzie watched and waited until the teaspoon finally went back on the tray, while Gracie looked out of the window, either weighing up what response wouldn’t irritate her mother further or reluctant to get drawn into an argument she didn’t want to have. To save her further torment, Lizzie helped herself to a flapjack and jumped in.

  ‘She doesn’t want to tell him,’ she said. ‘I’ve said the same as you, about a million times. By the way,’ she added, her mouth now full of syrup-drenched oats, ‘nice cakes, Gracie. I don’t know how yo
u get them to turn out so well with the crappy little oven in our caravan.’

  Gracie returned the compliment with a stiff smile. Lizzie’s attempts to lighten the mood weren’t having much effect, it seemed. Then Gracie turned to her mother.

  ‘I don’t want him in our lives.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘You know what he did to me? How can I forgive him for having an affair and then throwing me out of the flat? How could I ever trust him not to do something terrible and mean about this? What kind of father is a man like that going to make?’

  ‘He’s the father, nevertheless.’

  ‘Mum, he won’t care about that. Even you would have to admit from what you know of Frank that he’d make a terrible father. He has no patience whatsoever. He’s probably too old to learn any patience now too.’

  ‘He might be different with one of his own.’

  ‘And I might win the lottery this week. I’d say the odds are about the same.’

  Gwendolyn sniffed. ‘At the very least he should pay his way.’

  ‘I said that too.’ Lizzie reached for another flapjack. It was raining, so their plans for tea al fresco had been shelved, but in the circumstances, Lizzie didn’t think the atmosphere would have been any more jovial if they had been sitting in the pleasant shade of the old pear trees in her garden.

  ‘You’re your own worst enemy, Grace Lovell,’ Gwendolyn said.

  ‘Well, you know what they say about keeping your enemies close,’ Gracie returned archly. ‘If I’m my own worst enemy then it doesn’t get much closer than that, does it?’