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

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘James?’

  ‘Who else is it going to be?’

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Having a life. Is that OK?’

  Lizzie frowned. ‘Look, I just phoned to see how you are.’

  ‘I’m fine. How are you? Still got your windmill?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Good. Is that all you wanted to say?’

  ‘Well… I thought we might catch up.’

  ‘I’m a bit busy now, sis.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  There was silence on the line.

  ‘James?’

  ‘Yeah, still here…’

  ‘Are you drunk?’

  ‘No,’ he said, but then he began to laugh.

  Lizzie sighed. She wasn’t going to get any sense out of him now.

  ‘Listen, I’m going to call you again tomorrow. It’ll be late because we’re moving into the mill. You’ll be around, won’t you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Bye, James.’

  ‘See ya.’

  ‘James…’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Please take care, won’t you?’

  There was more laughter on the line, and then it went dead. Lizzie went back inside, deep in thought. Gracie and Florentina were watching TV, but Gracie turned to her now.

  ‘Did you manage to get hold of him?’

  Lizzie nodded.

  ‘Where’s he been?’

  ‘I’ll give you three guesses.’

  ‘Oh,’ Gracie said. She faced the television again. She didn’t need to be told anything more, and she probably didn’t want to discuss it, just like Lizzie, who knew they ought to be discussing it, but didn’t know what on earth they could say or what good a discussion would do. When it came to James, any discussion went round in circles. You could talk about him, worry about him, even try to intervene, but you couldn’t actually change anything. James would carry on in exactly the way he’d always done, and nobody but James could change that.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Having Jude around the place again had been strange at first, but Lizzie couldn’t deny that his help had been welcome when the time came to begin phase one of moving into Magnolia Mill. Not least because it meant he could go to Harriet’s grandparents’ reclamation yard to pick up the furniture Lizzie had saved there so that Lizzie wouldn’t have to face Harriet again herself.

  Florentina (who was still living with them, the projected completion date for her own house rebuild seeming further and further away every day) had said nothing about him being back in Lizzie’s life, only to comment that the extra muscle was welcome when it came to moving, because it was amazing just how many large and unwieldy items a small party of women could cram into a tiny caravan. Gracie, on the other hand, had tried to persuade Lizzie that she’d made a mistake inviting him back into her life and affections, but Lizzie replied by insisting that he wasn’t back in her life or affections, and that he wasn’t with Harriet as they’d thought he might be – and that even if he was, he and Lizzie were just friends now.

  Lizzie realised that Gracie and Florentina had probably had private discussions in her absence about the new developments, and in a way she didn’t mind that because, if they had, it meant they were getting along better than they’d ever done. Even as little as two months before there was no way they’d have shared that sort of moment – for Gracie especially it would have been all she could do to remain civil. And as much as she appreciated Gracie’s support and she understood the reasons for Gracie’s distrust of all men, this time she really wanted her sister to butt out. At least Gracie, for whatever reasons, seemed to realise this.

  When moving day proper arrived, even though Tim Lundy’s vans were still in evidence to get on with work left to be done away from the mill’s living quarters, it finally began to feel to Lizzie like the new life she’d dreamt of for so long was about to begin. The early October wind had a chill to it and the skies were low and grey, but it did nothing to dampen her spirits. She even had a bright smile for Jude as he arrived with Charlie, dressed down in old jeans and an outsized sweatshirt complete with holes in the sleeves. It would have looked scruffy on anyone else but (Lizzie had to admit, despite trying hard not to think about it) looked nothing short of sex-on-legs on him. In fact, the more she tried to ignore the pull of attraction, the worse it got. He’d been to visit since their heart-to-heart on the lane, but each meeting had been awkward, every word and gesture chosen with painstaking care, and she’d been able to keep a lid on her feelings. It was difficult to comprehend why things should be so different this time. Perhaps it was the sheer joy of moving into her mill at last that had put a gloss on everything and made her so happy she couldn’t keep her defences up. Perhaps something had changed – silently and subtly during their last few weeks as friends – though there was no pinpointing the moment that had led to what she felt today.

  There had been a few moments charged beyond reason, a summer storm crackling through leaden clouds: when they’d carried a box between them and his hand had brushed hers; when they’d bumped into each other rushing to and from the caravan; when they’d run for the shelter of the old pear trees as the rain began to fall, realising everyone else had retreated to the mill, leaving them alone there together in the place where they used to spread a blanket and spend sultry afternoons making love. He’d gently lifted a lock of wet hair from her face, his hand against her cheek filling her with an almost uncontrollable urge to pull him in and feel his body tight against hers. For a moment she’d thought he would kiss her, but then he’d given a sad smile and looked towards the sky.

  ‘Seems to have been a short and sharp shower after all,’ he’d said, before making his way back to the caravan to resume their moving.

  As they broke for lunch, Charlie and Jude headed off to buy supplies from the nearest pizzeria while Florentina poured drinks and set them out around Lizzie’s new dining table. After a brief nod of thanks from Gracie, she sat down next to Lizzie with her own glass.

  ‘You and Jude are together again?’ she asked carelessly. The nonchalant tone wasn’t fooling Lizzie, though; she knew Florentina and Gracie must have shared some theories on the state of her relationship with Jude at some point – possibly even today – and she knew that Gracie had probably put their stepmother up to the casual interrogation.

  ‘You know we’re not,’ Lizzie said. ‘I would have told you both if we were.’

  ‘Did I ever tell you about my friend Sofia?’ Florentina asked serenely. She continued without waiting for a reply. ‘She was such fun – very wild, always in trouble, and she didn’t want a boyfriend. When we were teenagers we would walk the streets of Milan together and we thought we were so sexy and so wonderful that every man must be looking at us. Sofia said she didn’t care. She said they could look as much as they wanted but she would never marry, because she didn’t think there was a man alive who could tame her.’ Florentina paused. ‘And then she met Marco. She looked at him as I see you look at Jude now, cara mia, and I knew that her wild ways were over. They were married two years later.’

  ‘I’m not looking at Jude like anything!’ Lizzie said, heat rising to her cheeks. ‘I don’t know where you get these ideas!’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Gracie laughed. ‘Do you think we’re all that dumb? Even Charlie can see it!’

  ‘He hasn’t said anything, has he?’ Lizzie asked, a slight note of panic in her voice. ‘I’d hate him to get any sort of false hope.’

  Florentina looked at Lizzie over her glass. ‘But would it be false hope? Nobody would think any less of you for wanting to try again with Jude. It’s obvious you both still adore each other, and, for what it’s worth, I think he’s learned his lesson.’

  ‘It’s not about whether he’s learned his lesson or not.’

  ‘Then what is it about?’ Gracie asked.

  Lizzie stared at her. ‘You were the one telling me I should steer clear!’

  ‘Yes, but I think he rea
lly has realised now just how difficult you found it to see him so close to Harriet. Perhaps he’d be more respectful of your feelings if you were to give him another chance…’

  Lizzie’s eyes widened, until they were like tiny planets. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘And he hasn’t got back with Harriet at all,’ Gracie continued. ‘A lot of men would have taken the easy route once they’d been dumped.’

  Florentina raised her eyebrows. ‘Harriet may not have wanted him even if she was the “easy route”.’

  Gracie waved a vague hand. ‘Oh, you know what I mean.’

  Lizzie’s hands went to her hips. ‘So now, after weeks of trying to convince me that I’m better off without him, you’re telling me that I ought to get back with him?’

  ‘I’m just saying he seems to have proved his worth.’

  Lizzie looked down into her lemonade. Much as she wanted to shake Gracie from time to time, perhaps this time her change of heart wasn’t so ill-conceived? Perhaps it was time to let go of this fear and let Jude back into her heart? Any feelings he might have had for Harriet were in the past and he was merely fulfilling his paternal duties with Artie – wasn’t he? Maybe Harriet had been pursuing some kind of agenda with all her tricks and flirting, but if Jude was going to get back with her it would have happened by now. Surely Lizzie could get past all that – it wasn’t like she’d be the first woman to have a relationship with a man who already had a child by someone else, and almost anyone else she met would have an ex lurking in their past. She took a deep breath and looked up at Gracie and Florentina with a smile.

  ‘Let’s see how things go today.’

  ‘You’re going to talk to him about it?’ Gracie asked.

  ‘Maybe.’ Lizzie frowned at the sight of her sister’s knowing smile.

  ‘But for now I’ve got far more important things to worry about,’ she added, ‘like how I’m going to get my new four-poster bed through that tiny bedroom doorframe.’

  Gracie grinned at Florentina, and Lizzie didn’t know whether she wanted to slap her stupid, smug face or hug her to death.

  * * *

  Once she’d allowed herself to imagine what life might be like with Jude back in it, all Lizzie could think about was the moment when she could get him alone to tell him how she felt. She was certain he’d still feel the same way as he had on the lane the day he’d tried to apologise, and there was a sense of building excitement for the prospect of putting all the nonsense behind them and trying again. Perhaps they’d be all the stronger for the trials they’d been through to get to this point; didn’t people always say that you could never know the strength of a love until it had been tested?

  After a lively lunch was tidied away, Lizzie smiled at Jude’s tuneless whistle as he screwed together a flat-pack under-sink tidy.

  ‘Happy?’ he asked, standing back to admire his handiwork.

  Lizzie nodded and rewarded him with a chaste kiss. At first he looked bemused, but then he smiled.

  ‘That’s not what I was expecting,’ he said.

  ‘But you have no objections?’

  He grinned. ‘No.’

  Lizzie moved closer and, casting a look around to check they were still alone in the kitchen, she lowered her voice. ‘I don’t suppose you have time to spare later? Maybe we can talk a little… somewhere private.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ he said. ‘Does this mean…?’

  She gave a slight shrug as she looked up into his eyes. ‘Who knows? Let’s just make that time and see where it goes, eh?’

  He studied her for a moment, his hand poised uncertainly. But then he let it trail along her arm and up to her shoulder, sweeping the nape of her neck, and she shuddered as a wave of pleasure ripped through her.

  ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said, his eyes never leaving hers.

  ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ she warned, but her cautious reply didn’t match the need she felt at his touch. There had always been an attraction, a chemistry unlike anything she’d ever felt for any man before, and never had it been as strong as it was at this moment. ‘I’m not promising anything.’

  He nodded, and still their eyes stayed locked. God, how she wanted to kiss him now. She’d missed those lips so much – those hands that could do things she’d never imagined hands could do, the scent that was like a drug, the skin that felt so right against hers.

  ‘So how far along this path might we be?’ he asked. ‘We’re at talking stage?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’re at touching stage?’ he asked, his hand resting on the small of her back and gently pulling her closer.

  ‘Maybe a little.’

  ‘This may be a little forward but…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are we at kissing stage?’ he asked, moving closer still, his voice a hot whisper. ‘I really missed kissing stage.’

  ‘Me too.’ Lizzie smiled, her insides molten, the ache of need almost overwhelming. She reached up, offered herself, and he dipped his mouth to hers and it was like her veins were full of fireworks.

  ‘Jude! Jude!’

  They leapt apart at the sound of Charlie’s voice echoing down the hallway, clumsy footsteps speeding towards them. There had been nothing wrong in what they’d been doing, nothing to be ashamed of, and yet even at that moment Lizzie felt ashamed, annoyed with herself that she’d let things get too far too quickly. Didn’t her stupid body have any self-control? Did it really have that much superiority over her brain? What had happened to talking things through when they got a quiet moment?

  A second later, Charlie was standing at the kitchen doorway with Jude’s mobile phone in the air like it was a live grenade with the pin missing.

  ‘Harriet needs us!’ he cried. ‘Artie’s fell off the swing!’

  Jude threw a look of despair and apology in equal measure and the drawbridge that Lizzie had been able to lower so easily only a moment before slammed shut again. One thing at a time. There might be a future for her and Jude, but she’d have to accept that it would include Harriet and Artie too. Right now, she still wasn’t sure that she could do that.

  * * *

  ‘Doesn’t she have anyone else to run her to hospitals?’ Gracie said, stuffing a cookie into her mouth. They were back in the kitchen in the mill, which by now had a lot more furniture than it had at lunchtime. The cupboards were bursting with crockery and pans and the other detritus of cooking and there were new gingham blinds hanging at the windows. It was close to suppertime, but they weren’t close to being ready for supper at all. Biscuits and tea were the best they could do for now and everyone was too tired to care anyway.

  Jude and Charlie had left them as soon as the call had come through. Jude had phoned shortly afterwards to say they were waiting with Harriet for Artie to have an X-ray and probably wouldn’t get back to them that evening. Lizzie could hardly say anything except to express a hope that Artie would be OK and to tell him it didn’t matter, but the situation had certainly poured cold water onto her fire. In fact, it had done a lot to cool relations full stop, and even more to add to her initial doubts about letting Jude back into her life.

  Lizzie, Gracie and Florentina had agreed that they’d do what they could until dusk fell but that they might have to stay in the caravan overnight and finish moving into the mill the following day now that they were a couple of pairs of hands short. Lizzie was strangely OK with this; it gave her time to reflect on what had happened that afternoon between her and Jude and decide whether her heart ruling her head was really such a wise thing to allow.

  ‘Perhaps her family were all busy,’ Lizzie said, chin resting on her fist as she leaned on the table and stared at the opposite wall.

  ‘Anyone would think it’s a deliberate attempt at sabotage. She must have known Jude would be here helping us today.’

  ‘I suppose he is Artie’s dad.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean Harriet has to keep calling him for everything.’ Gracie reached for another cookie and rammed it into
her mouth. Lizzie had heard of expectant mothers eating for two, but Gracie was eating for twenty these days. It was a safe bet that her morning sickness had well and truly dissipated.

  ‘Maybe…’

  ‘I don’t see why she has to do it. Do you think she has some weird hold on him? Like she doesn’t want him, but she doesn’t want anyone else to have him?’

  Lizzie sighed. ‘You don’t think it’s crossed my mind? But then, what on earth would she gain from that?’

  ‘Well, he’d be there for Artie no matter what. I suppose if he got close to another woman he might well have another child with her and then Artie might get a little sidelined. I mean, he wouldn’t, but I suppose Harriet might think that. Maybe she’s just making sure it doesn’t happen.’

  ‘She can’t expect him to be single forever.’

  ‘I suppose it’s easy to get dependent on people, though.’

  ‘So she’s going to make sure Jude stays single? Doesn’t sound plausible.’

  ‘Perhaps not forever. Maybe just until Artie is eighteen.’

  ‘I don’t imagine she needs him to be single. He’s not the sort of man to abandon his son and she must know that.’

  ‘Maybe she’s realised it’s not quite as easy to raise a child alone as she’d imagined it would be. I guess I’ll find that out for myself soon enough. It doesn’t sound as if her family were over the moon about her choosing to be a single mum either.’

  ‘Well, yes. They help her in practical ways, but I don’t know about emotional support. Jude has said they were a bit old-fashioned about it all.’

  Gracie narrowed her eyes and studied Lizzie for a moment. ‘How come you’re suddenly so understanding about it all?’

  ‘I’m not understanding; I think I’ve just given in. Harriet is just going to be there, all the time, whether I like it or not.’

  ‘Can you cope with that?’

  ‘That’s the big question, isn’t it? I mean, what if Jude and I did get back together and what if we did end up having a child? Where would that leave everyone?’