‘If you could,’ Tim replied. ‘It won’t take a minute – Gary’s just pulled up your floorboards in the milling room and found the joists in a bit of a mess. As your specialists will be coming in after us, he wants to know if you think you can make do with a bit of patching up or whether you want to get all new sooner.’
‘Oh, God… I’m coming then.’
Closing the caravan door behind her, Lizzie followed Tim across the garden to the mill. It looked smooth and sleek in the afternoon light with its new render now dry and the scaffolding finally removed. The frames of the vast sails were still damaged, grumbling and groaning like an old man in the light wind, and they would have to be repaired or replaced at some point (repaired, Lizzie desperately hoped, to save some money), but that was a job for the specialist that she’d yet to employ and probably the last thing to be done. The most important thing right now was to make the place habitable, especially in light of the growing guest list at Chez Lizzie. At least Florentina had offered to pay towards the cost of her staying there, and while Lizzie would have loved to say she didn’t want or need the money, she was enough of a realist to accept the offer gratefully.
The stairs to the milling floor had no rails and so Lizzie clung to the oily length of rope that served instead as she climbed. Now that Tim had mentioned it, she could smell the damp more strongly than she’d ever done before. Maybe it was in her imagination, or maybe it was the rain they’d had over the previous days – Lizzie hoped it might be one of them and not the confirmation of her worst fears. She’d had enough nasty surprises on this build, and she was running short of nerves to shred.
‘Right,’ Tim grunted as they finally stood looking at the offending woodwork. ‘Holes there – see. Something’s had a little chew on them, but we can probably kill that off. But then there’s a bit of rot over this side… Water got in, I expect. Middle ones seem fairly sound.’ He turned to Lizzie. ‘What do you reckon?’
Lizzie stared at the joists. The floorboards were already being replaced and that was expensive enough. God only knew how much more replacing the entire floor would cost.
‘If I can save a bit of money by patching up then—’
Tim nodded. ‘I thought you’d say that but just wanted to run it by you. Best to ask.’
‘Thanks; I appreciate that. It’ll be safe enough?’
‘It’ll be safe for a few years as long as you’re not planning to have parties up here.’
‘Oh.’
‘Probably need looking at again in a few years. We’ll do our best for you, though.’
Lizzie continued to survey the floor. ‘So if I was using the mill to actually produce flour then it might be a problem?’ she asked.
Tim lifted his hard hat and scratched his head. ‘Tell you what I’d do – I’d get it patched and then I’d let your specialist look at it.’
Lizzie tried to smooth the frown tugging at her forehead. If ever she’d heard a cop-out, that was it. But she supposed it wasn’t really Tim’s area of expertise, and he was probably genuinely trying to do his best for her.
‘OK,’ she said heavily. ‘It’ll have to do for now.’
Tim gave a terse nod. ‘While you’re here, there’s one or two other bits I wanted to ask you about. You’d best come have a look while we’re up here…’
‘Right,’ Lizzie said, hoping that these one or two other bits weren’t going to cost one or two other bits of money that she hadn’t budgeted for. ‘You’d better show me then,’ she said, following him from the milling room, a vague sense of dread building that was bound to ruin her morning good and proper.
* * *
Lizzie had spent an hour with Tim inspecting and discussing various little details of the job. In the end nothing had been as awful and costly as she’d been expecting, though it had taken some working out as to what solution they were going to employ for each problem his team had run into. But now, as Lizzie made her way back to the caravan, her thoughts were tinged with dread once more as she wondered just how badly Gracie and Florentina might have got on while she’d been missing. While she was there they had a referee, but with her out of the way, it wasn’t impossible to imagine that things might just descend into all-out war.
All was quiet as she pushed open the door, and she was relieved to see that they were both on the sofa. Together. Drinking tea.
Lizzie did a double take. There was no screaming or shouting, no frosty glares – in fact, Gracie was actually smiling at Florentina.
‘Everything OK?’ Lizzie asked carefully.
‘Do you think I’m blooming?’ Gracie asked. ‘Do I have a pregnancy glow?’
Lizzie looked at her sister. Gracie’s hair needed a wash, she was still in her pyjamas with not a scrap of make-up, and she looked tired. But yes, now that she really looked properly, perhaps she did have a little of something about her that was new. Was it a spark of happiness, a new sense of purpose? Perhaps she was getting used to the idea of motherhood and the notion that she’d have someone new in her life to love, someone who’d love her unconditionally in return. Lizzie couldn’t say if it was a pregnancy glow, but there was definitely something.
‘I think she absolutely does,’ Florentina put in. ‘As soon as I got here I could see something different about her.’ She turned to Gracie. ‘It’s a shame we can’t bottle it and sell it over the counter because women would be flocking to buy it.’
‘I suppose if other women want it they’ll have to get pregnant,’ Gracie said with a little laugh.
‘I’m not sure that would suit everyone,’ Florentina returned with a smile. ‘And pregnancy doesn’t look good on everyone like it does on you.’
Gracie’s smile broadened, and she almost seemed to glow like a light bulb turned up on a dimmer switch.
Nicely played, Lizzie thought as she looked at Florentina. Perhaps things weren’t going to be as awkward as Lizzie had imagined after all. Florentina had tried with Gracie for years, but they hadn’t really had anything to bond over. Perhaps Gracie’s pregnancy could be it, and it looked as if their stepmother had already realised the opportunity for herself.
‘Anyway,’ Gracie said, turning to Lizzie now. ‘What did Eeyore want?’
‘Mostly to show me things that will cost me more money.’
‘Oh, God, can you afford it?’
‘None of it is too bad, thankfully.’
‘Maybe I can help?’ Florentina said. ‘You know I said I had some money I’d invest in your business? Well, if you need the money sooner—’
‘It’s OK,’ Lizzie said, and she glanced across at Gracie to see her smile turn into a scowl. It looked as if talk of a business relationship with Florentina that Gracie hadn’t approved of had reminded her that she wasn’t supposed to like her stepmother. Lizzie suppressed a sigh and supposed that she couldn’t expect miracles right away.
Florentina leapt up from the sofa and clapped her hands together. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Who would like some tasty gnocchi?’
* * *
Gracie was taking her afternoon nap, Florentina had gone to the farm shop and Lizzie found herself at a rare loose end, unable to concentrate on an article about the best times and places to see the Northern Lights. Instead, she stared absently through the kitchen window of her caravan, elbow-deep in rapidly cooling washing-up suds, her thoughts occupied by Jude. She couldn’t deny that she was missing him, even if Gracie had quite successfully convinced her that she was far better off without him. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d made a terrible mistake, and that she’d thrown away a chance of happiness that she ought to have grabbed with both hands. She’d aired this misgiving to Gracie, who’d instantly pointed out that she herself had said exactly the same about Frank, and that Lizzie had – quite rightly – persuaded her that Frank wasn’t the one. Gracie was simply returning the favour by reassuring Lizzie that in time she’d be able to see Jude in the same way.
However much she might want to believe this, she wasn’t convinced
that she and Jude were the same as Gracie and Frank at all. She wondered if Jude was back with Harriet already, Lizzie and Damon consigned to the past as temporary distractions from the real love story. It hurt to think so, but the possibility was hard to ignore.
She was about to turn her attention back to the washing-up when she saw Charlie bounding up the garden path. Breath held, she waited to see if Jude would follow, a million conversations running through her head, wondering which opening gambit he’d present her with. But then she let it go and her eyebrows went up as she saw that, instead of Jude, Harriet and Artie had got out of a car on the road and were walking across the garden in Charlie’s wake. Lizzie frowned, steeling herself as she went to the door to open up before their knock woke Gracie.
‘Charlie!’ Lizzie said, forcing a smile for him, though her heart was thudding in her chest. She had no idea why Harriet was accompanying him. And although she would have pretended to be cross and angry with Jude if he’d come, she couldn’t help a sense of crushing disappointment that he hadn’t.
‘Lizzie!’ Charlie threw himself at her and hugged her tight. ‘Why haven’t you been to our house?’
‘Well…’ Lizzie paused. Was she supposed to tell him the truth, or was she meant to sugar-coat a little lie for him? It seemed that Jude hadn’t told him, but then, perhaps he didn’t know what he was supposed to say either. She and Jude hadn’t officially split, but they were doing a good job of looking like a couple who’d broken up. She’d never been in a situation like this before. There had been no messing with Evan and no mistaking that it was absolutely over the minute he’d tried to cover up his betrayal with lies so thin Lizzie could have seen the sky through them.
‘I told him you’d probably been busy,’ Harriet said, hoisting Artie into her arms. ‘Jude told me about—’
‘I’d rather not discuss it. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry to hear about you and Damon.’
‘Jude was only trying to comfort me, you know. We’ve been friends for a long time and I tend to turn to him for a lot. The split with Damon… it was a big deal, you know? I really liked him and Jude knows that. But whatever else you might think is… happening… well, it isn’t.’
Lizzie was silent. Wasn’t it obvious to Harriet that right there was exactly the reason her own relationship with Jude would never work?
‘But you’re not OK with him?’ Harriet added into the silence.
‘It’s…’ Lizzie glanced at Charlie, who was hanging onto her every word. No matter how cryptically she and Harriet had this conversation he might still get more of it than either of them would like – certainly more than Lizzie would like.
‘I missed you,’ Charlie said into the pause. ‘And Gracie too. Is her baby here yet?’
Lizzie smiled now, and this one was genuine. ‘Not yet. We have a few months to wait.’
‘Will I be able to see it?’
‘Of course! You’ll be one of the first people to see it.’
‘But what if you’re busy?’
‘We’d never be too busy for you.’
‘Is it a boy or a girl?’
‘We don’t know yet.’
‘I hope it’s a boy, then he can play with me and Artie.’
‘I expect he’d like that. But girls can play with you both too.’
‘It’s not the same.’
‘I’m sure you can work out a game that suits you all – boy or girl.’
Charlie opened his mouth to reply, but then his eyes grew round and his face was a picture of absolute delight as he squealed at something behind Lizzie.
‘Gracie!’ he cried, throwing himself at her now and hugging her.
‘I thought I heard your voice,’ Gracie said groggily. ‘You woke me up.’
‘Oh…’ Charlie’s face fell. ‘I’m sorry.’
Gracie laughed. ‘It’s alright. If anyone is allowed to wake me up, it’s you.’
Gracie glanced up at Lizzie and Harriet and, even though she looked half-asleep, she seemed to make the connection instantly. Gracie turned back to Charlie. ‘How about I make us a drink and you can tell me what you’ve been up to this week?’
Charlie gave an emphatic nod and followed her to the kitchen area, while Lizzie and Harriet stood at the bottom of the caravan steps.
‘Would you like some tea?’ Lizzie asked. Not because she wanted Harriet to stay but because that was what you did. Although, perhaps a small part of her did want Harriet to stay. Perhaps she wanted to hear something from her that might restore the trust she’d lost in Jude. If only he’d come himself – she’d have talked to him and she’d have listened, despite resolving not to. ‘Coffee? And I’m sure I can find some juice for Artie…’
‘I don’t want to take up too much of your time,’ Harriet said.
‘Jude sent you?’
‘Sort of – but at my insistence. It’s not for Jude I’m here, though – it’s for Charlie. Jude realises that it’s probably over between you and him, but it’s hard for Charlie to deal with that stuff. Jude’s never really let other girlfriends get close to Charlie unless he was certain they’d stay around for him—’
‘Like you?’
‘We’re friends now, nothing more. The thing is, when you become a part of Charlie’s life then you inadvertently make a sort of contract, a deal. You can’t abandon him. Once you’re in Charlie’s life, you owe it to him to stay in it.’
‘And Jude sent you to say that to me? He couldn’t come and ask this himself?’
‘We’re asking. For Charlie’s sake. I came because Jude felt you wouldn’t let him speak.’
‘He hasn’t even tried.’
‘He called you and you didn’t answer.’
‘He could have come to the caravan if he’d really wanted to try and put things right.’
‘He didn’t come because he has too much respect to hassle you. Jesus, Lizzie – what do you want from him?’
‘What do I want from him? A little honesty would have been nice. And maybe a sign that he cared about it.’
‘He does care about it.’
‘Then why are you here instead of him?’
‘I told you why.’
‘This doesn’t help – it just makes it worse. What’s the deal with you two? Why are you like this? Like you and Jude against the world? You say you’re not together, but you spend almost all your time together. I think he’s still in love with you, and it seems to me that you still feel something for him too. Is it still off with you and Damon?’
‘I don’t think that’s any of your business and you’re being ridiculous. I can’t take the blame for your pathetic insecurities…’
‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ Lizzie narrowed her eyes. ‘You do know Jude is still in love with you, don’t you?’
‘He’s not. We have a son together and that’s all now.’
‘So you don’t want him back?’
‘I haven’t come here to try and fix your relationship with Jude. Only you can do that, and even if I could I wouldn’t necessarily think it was in his best interests.’
Lizzie’s jaw tightened. ‘Then why have you come?’
‘I’ve told you why.’
‘And that’s the only reason?’
‘Yes.’
‘So you’re not getting back together?’
‘Of course not!’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘I don’t see why I have to explain myself to you. What does it matter? You’re not even with Jude now. He just wants you to think about Charlie in all this. Charlie’s got close to you and your sister, and Jude doesn’t want to put him through a painful separation if he doesn’t have to.’
What about their painful separation? What about the separation of Lizzie and Jude – didn’t he care about that? It sounded like the minute Lizzie had left his house that night he’d simply given up on her – on any future they might have had. Didn’t he want to fight for her? To hell with his respectful distance – she wanted him to turn up on her
doorstep and hammer on the door and demand he talk to her. She wanted him here, thrashing it out. Instead he’d sent the mother of his child – the reason they were in this mess. What kind of message did that send out? He’d clearly confided in Harriet every detail of what had happened between them and Lizzie couldn’t believe he’d do a thing like that either. The signals couldn’t have been any more mixed up.
Charlie’s voice came from behind her. ‘Gracie says does Artie want an ice cream?’
Lizzie spun round, suddenly guilty for her thoughts. Jude was right about one thing: whether she was angry or not, it didn’t give her the right to cut the people from Charlie’s life that he’d grown attached to. The one person who carried the least blame was the one person who had so much to lose and so little hope of understanding why.
She turned to Harriet and forced a tight smile. ‘If that’s alright with you, perhaps Artie can come in for a little while? My sister would love the excuse to spoil him with a bowl of ice cream.’
Harriet looked as unhappy about the prospect as Lizzie did, but she forced a smile too. ‘I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you, Artie?’
The little boy plucked out the thumb he’d been sucking and nodded, half shy, half seduced by the prospect of a sweet treat.
‘Come on in,’ Lizzie said, showing Harriet up the caravan steps and hoping this visit would be over quickly.
* * *
Lizzie just couldn’t bring herself to trust a word Harriet said. Was it pure jealousy, or was there another instinct at work here, telling her all was not as it seemed? Because Lizzie recognised now, even though she’d tried to ignore it, that there was a fairly healthy dollop of jealousy currently lodging in her heart where Harriet was concerned, and there always had been. But as they sat in the caravan together now, Artie giggled and Charlie laughed with him, and Harriet watched over it all with a kind of quiet knowledge in her face that she was the queen of both their hearts. It made Lizzie want to grab Charlie and try to impress him, just as she used to compete with Gracie and James to be their dad’s favourite child, and it made her feel silly and ashamed of herself for having such ridiculous thoughts. The longer Harriet sat there, the more Lizzie wanted to tell her to get out. She’d never fought such an unreasonable impulse before, but Harriet just seemed to bring out this strange, madly irrational streak in her.
The Mill on Magnolia Lane: A gorgeous feel-good romantic comedy Page 22