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

by Tilly Tennant

  Gracie stroked a fond hand over her tummy. ‘Lord, I have no idea. I only know there might be a lot more babies around here than there are now!’

  ‘Lucky it’s a big place then,’ Lizzie said with a half-smile. She looked up to see Florentina wandering in, phone in hand. ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘That was the man at the insurance company. One or two snags in the small print of the policy.’

  ‘Anything difficult to sort?’

  ‘I could have done with the documents to check something, but as they burned with everything else in the house…’ She flopped onto a chair at the table and reached for the mug of tea that had been left for her. ‘How do these people expect you to be able to answer queries about the original policies? Surely they have this information to hand? Isn’t it their job to know these things and sort them out? I’ve got absolutely nothing left and he’s asking me about some ridiculous small print on my policy documents! Even if they had not burned, I wouldn’t have known anything about it because your dad would have set up the original policy. I only renewed it when it was due.’

  Lizzie reached out and gave her stepmother’s hand a reassuring rub.

  ‘I’m such an idiot,’ Florentina said.

  ‘No you’re not.’

  ‘How could I have taken so little notice of the important things?’

  ‘Because none of us ever thinks we’re going to need them. Who could have seen something like this in their future, and who wants to imagine it might happen?’

  ‘Well, if I lose everything then I deserve everything I get.’

  ‘Hey…’ Lizzie said softly. ‘Where has this come from? You’ve been so strong all this time—’

  ‘It’s easy to pretend, isn’t it?’

  Florentina’s eyes misted, and Lizzie, who had never once seen her complain since she’d lost her house, rushed up from her seat and around the table to hug her. ‘Oh, Florentina,’ she said, holding her tight. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ her stepmother said with a sniff. ‘You’ve been nothing but kind to me – more than I deserve.’

  Lizzie glanced across at Gracie, who looked suitably sympathetic, though Lizzie had to wonder how much of it was real. Gracie and Florentina were getting on well enough these days, but perhaps Gracie would never really see her in the way Lizzie did.

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Lizzie chided. ‘If I’m kind to you then it’s because you do deserve it.’

  Florentina gently pulled from Lizzie’s hug and gave her a watery smile. ‘Ignore me. It’s been a very long day and the last thing I needed was stress from the insurance company. I’m beginning to feel like such a burden on everyone. I just wish they’d hurry and sort things out so I can live in my own house again.’

  Lizzie sat down again. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. Do you actually want to live on your own again?’

  ‘I suppose it will be OK.’

  ‘That’s just it.’ She looked at Gracie and then back at Florentina. ‘I want you to stay with me here. Both of you.’

  ‘But it’s your house!’ Gracie squeaked. ‘You said—’

  ‘I know what I said,’ Lizzie cut in. ‘I’ve had time to change my mind. I really want you to live with me here in the mill, for as long as you want or need. It’s huge, and it’s a lot of space to be rolling around in by myself.’

  Gracie’s eyes were wide. ‘You’re absolutely sure about this?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re the best sister ever!’ Gracie cried, rushing to throw her arms around Lizzie. But then Florentina interrupted them.

  ‘What about Jude?’

  ‘What about him?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘Perhaps one day, cara mia, this will become yours and Jude’s home?’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘But you’re back together?’

  Lizzie hesitated. ‘Honestly, I don’t know.’

  ‘But I thought…’

  ‘I don’t think it’s going to work out.’

  ‘But this afternoon you were so sure you were going to try again.’

  ‘But then Harriet called and I remembered that he’ll never really be just mine.’

  ‘You want him to be just yours?’ Florentina said. ‘Isn’t that a little possessive?’

  Lizzie’s smile faded as soon as it was formed. ‘You know I don’t mean it like that. It will always feel like there’s another family in our relationship. And if we had a family of our own it wouldn’t feel the same because he’d already have another one somewhere else – his first one, which would make them the most important one.’

  Florentina shook her head. ‘You know you’re not making a lot of sense.’

  ‘I suppose I’m just not explaining myself very well. It’s hard to express what I mean.’

  ‘I think I might have an idea, though,’ Florentina said. ‘But if he’s worth it, if he’s really the one, then surely you can forget those feelings?’

  ‘I thought I could. I was so sure. But…’

  ‘I said it before and I’m going to say it again because I can’t watch you lose someone who makes you happy. You come alive when he’s near and that has to mean something. Can you really throw that away just because he has a child with someone else?’

  ‘It’s not about Artie, it’s…’

  Florentina raised her eyebrows and Lizzie couldn’t help a small smile.

  ‘I don’t even know anymore.’ Lizzie sat at the table and pulled her mug towards her.

  ‘Cara mia… How did you leave it with Jude when he went to the hospital?’ Florentina asked.

  ‘I didn’t really leave it like anything. He just rushed off.’

  ‘Why don’t you phone him now and arrange to meet up tomorrow?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Santa Maria, Lizzie!’ Florentina let out an impatient breath. ‘Why the sudden caution? Where’s the girl who takes chances? What if you’d been wrong about this mill? You weren’t, and it took a gamble to find out. So what if you’re wrong about Jude? So what if it doesn’t work out? Then again, what if it does? The only way you’ll ever find out is if you take a chance on him.’

  ‘I know that. I can’t explain why I feel so scared. Even I can see now that Jude is nothing like Evan so I can’t keep using that as an excuse…’

  ‘Perhaps because this is true love?’ Florentina said. ‘There’s more at stake than ever before because your feelings for Jude are more intense than you’ve ever had for anyone before – that’s why you’re scared.’

  She glanced at Gracie and seemed to hesitate, tussling with the need to say something she thought they wouldn’t like. But then she opened her mouth to speak again. ‘When it began with your dad… I’d never felt like that about anyone before. We were both scared because we had so much to lose and we both fought hard to ignore the feelings that were growing but we couldn’t… I knew it was going to hurt so many people so much…’

  ‘I understand that but it’s still not the same,’ Lizzie said gently.

  ‘What I’m trying to say is that the higher the emotional stakes are, the greater the fear. If you are this terrified, perhaps that should tell you that it might be worth taking a chance on.’

  ‘You think so?’

  Florentina nodded. ‘I do.’

  Lizzie was silent again. Then she looked at Gracie, who simply nodded agreement.

  ‘Well, then I suppose I should call him.’

  Gracie pushed Lizzie’s mobile across the table to her. But as she reached for it, it began to ring. It wasn’t Jude’s name showing on the display, but Gwendolyn’s.

  ‘Mum,’ Lizzie answered, a vague frown creasing her forehead as she listened in silence for a moment. ‘Slow down… I can’t understand what you’re telling me.’ She listened again, and as comprehension began to dawn on her, every drop of blood seemed to drain from her body. The phone fell from her hand to the table with a dull clunk, and at the other end of the line, Gwendolyn’s distraught voice was small and distant.


  ‘What is it?’ Gracie demanded. ‘Lizzie – what is it?’

  Lizzie shook her head slowly. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t make sense of anything around her. Only the news she’d just heard filled her head, like a reverb that drowned everything else out.

  Her sister reached across the table and snatched up the phone. ‘Mum… what’s happened?’ It was Gracie’s turn to listen now, her face losing all colour, just like Lizzie’s. ‘It’s not true. It can’t be true!’

  Florentina looked from one to the other. ‘What’s happened?’

  Lizzie spoke, her voice small and dull, and she could hear it echo back like she was outside herself.

  ‘James is dead.’

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Gracie was wrapped in Lizzie’s arms as they stood and gazed at the room Lizzie had earmarked for her and the baby. Her sobs were soaking into Lizzie’s blouse and Lizzie envied her ability to cry. It had been three days since the news of James’s death, and Lizzie had only been able to stare into a chasm of numbness and wish she could feel something to make sense of the void growing inside her. Her little brother was gone, so why couldn’t she feel the loss? She wanted sadness to overwhelm her, to weep and weep as Gracie and her mum were, but there was nothing. She just walked the rooms of her mill over and over, superficial thoughts of paint colours and shelving units masking the real emotions that simmered all the more dangerously without an outlet. When her dad had died Lizzie had been shocked and she’d found it hard to react for many days, but it had been nothing like this. James’s death had sent her into a sort of emotional catatonia – she looked like she was functioning, but inside everything was numb and blank.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Gracie looked up at her, her eyes raw and swollen.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lizzie said, and she knew they were no longer talking about décor.

  ‘Mum will never survive this.’

  ‘She has to. We all do, because we don’t have any choice.’

  Gracie dragged in a breath, fighting to stop her tears. ‘What was he thinking?’

  ‘I suppose he was trying to do a good thing,’ she replied dully.

  Gracie began to cry again and Lizzie pulled her close.

  ‘At least it was quick,’ Gracie said.

  They’d said that many times since they’d had the news, but it had been of little comfort to Lizzie. The policeman kept saying it too, like it ought to make them feel better. James’s death might have been quick, but he was still dead. Fast or slow, it made no difference to her world right now because the fact remained that James was no longer in it. Perhaps one day she’d care that he hadn’t known anything of the end when it had come, swift and strong from the darkness, but that day wouldn’t be for a long time.

  Florentina’s voice came from behind them.

  ‘I’ve made a pot of tea if you want some,’ she said. ‘Your mum’s finally sleeping – she must be exhausted.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Lizzie said. There was so much she wanted to say to Florentina about her tact and grace and kindness to the very women who had cut her out of their own circle of healing when Lizzie’s dad had died, but the words hovered beyond her reach. She was so grateful for her stepmother’s presence, but she didn’t know how to say it. One day, she thought, when things were easier, she’d find a way to show it.

  ‘Thank goodness I’ve been able to sleep a little,’ Gracie said, smoothing a hand over her belly. ‘It wouldn’t be good for the baby.’

  ‘It certainly wouldn’t be good for you,’ Florentina said. ‘And that in itself wouldn’t be good for your Little Baked Bean.’

  ‘I don’t think I want tea,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ve got some measuring up to do in the bathroom for the blinds.’

  ‘That can wait,’ Florentina said. ‘Come and sit with us. It’ll do you good to talk.’

  ‘I don’t need to talk – there’s nothing to talk about and it won’t do any good moping. Things won’t change because I’m sitting around talking and I’ve got so much to do here—’

  ‘Lizzie, please…’ Florentina shot a pleading look at Gracie for help.

  ‘You haven’t sat down all morning,’ Gracie said. ‘The decorating can wait.’

  Lizzie stepped away to look at Gracie. ‘But what’s the point? Sitting around talking and drinking tea won’t bring him back. James is gone, but we’re still here and things still need to be done.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if the mill isn’t decorated for a while longer,’ Florentina said gently.

  ‘Yes it does!’ Lizzie cried. ‘How are we all going to live here if it’s a mess? I have to make it nice for everyone because there’s only me and I have to sort it all out because everyone else is absolutely useless!’

  Florentina’s eyes widened. She and Gracie stared at Lizzie.

  ‘Sorry,’ Lizzie said. ‘I didn’t mean that, I…’ She shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I don’t want any tea. If you need me, I’ll be cleaning the caravan.’

  ‘What for?’ Gracie exchanged a look of confusion with Florentina.

  ‘I’ll have to sell it and I can’t do that if it’s dirty,’ Lizzie said.

  ‘You have to sell it right now?’

  ‘I can list it. These things can take a while so it won’t hurt.’

  ‘But, Lizzie…’ Gracie began.

  Lizzie didn’t wait to hear the rest. She squeezed past her sister and made her way to the kitchen to get cleaning supplies.

  * * *

  Exhaustion was getting the better of her, but Lizzie hardly noticed how much she was slowing down. It wasn’t until her mum appeared at the door of the caravan that she realised just how long she’d been in there and how savagely she’d rubbed at every surface.

  Straightening up, she dropped the cloth into a bowl of suds and closed the cupboards she’d just cleaned. As she rubbed a sleeve across her forehead to mop up the sheen of sweat there, she cast a critical eye over Gwendolyn. She’d never seen her mum so close to a complete breakdown as this. Even the pain of losing Lizzie’s dad the previous winter couldn’t come close to this for her mum. And the fact was that Lizzie’s mum and dad had been divorced for a long time by that point, and though Gwendolyn had loved him until the end, the loss was tempered by the knowledge that, at the end, he had belonged to someone else. Had Lizzie been in a more rational state of mind herself, capable of taking in the full enormity of what had happened to James, there wouldn’t have been time to cry, and she wouldn’t have allowed herself the luxury anyway because her mum was the one who really needed support. Losing a brother was hard enough, but it was impossible to imagine the pain of losing a child, and Lizzie didn’t think that the pain would ever diminish or become less of a thing because that child had become an adult.

  ‘Did you manage to sleep?’ Lizzie asked, drying her hands on an old dishcloth.

  ‘Not really. Perhaps I dozed a little,’ she added in answer to Lizzie’s frown of disapproval. ‘I must have done for a while because I lost an hour somewhere, but I don’t recall dropping off.’

  ‘You want something to eat?’

  Gwendolyn shook her head.

  ‘You’ve got to have at least a little something,’ Lizzie insisted.

  ‘I know, but I just don’t have any appetite.’

  ‘None of us has, but we’ve all got to keep our strength up. If not for yourself, think about Gracie and the baby. If you get ill that’s just another thing for Gracie to fret about and the stress won’t do her any good.’

  Gwendolyn was silent for the longest minute. But then she nodded. ‘Perhaps a little soup.’

  ‘Now?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘Whenever. I can get it.’

  ‘I’ll get it.’ Lizzie took her mum gently by the elbow. If she didn’t lead her directly to the kitchen and stand over her as she ate then she knew that Gwendolyn wouldn’t eat at all. Three days since the visit from the police and she’d barely eaten a morsel – at least, Lizzie hadn’t witnessed it if she had. Gwendolyn had alwa
ys been a slight and delicate woman, but right now she was more of a shadow than a person.

  ‘You’ll have some with me?’ she asked as they walked back to the mill.

  ‘Yes,’ Lizzie lied.

  ‘Gracie’s eating properly, isn’t she? What you said about…’

  ‘Yes,’ Lizzie replied. Also a lie, although Gracie was at least trying to eat for the sake of her baby. ‘Florentina cooked for her earlier.’

  Gwendolyn nodded uncertainly, apparently struggling with the concept of owing gratitude to Florentina. It must have been hard for her to accept the other woman’s new role in their lives – as a carer and confidante – after all that had gone before. For Lizzie, Florentina was what she’d always been, but this would be all new to Gwendolyn. It wasn’t to be forgotten that Florentina had troubles of her own too – more than enough – but all that had been put aside to care for the Lovell women. Karma, Florentina had called it when Lizzie had remarked on her goodness. Karma had a way of paying its debts. Lizzie had been kind to her, and now it was her stepmother’s turn to repay that debt, even when Lizzie argued that there had never been a debt at all.

  Lizzie led her mum to the table and sat her down before rummaging through the cupboards to find a tin of soup. She barely knew where anything was herself yet, they’d been in the mill for such a short time. After a minute or so, she managed to lay her hands on one.

  ‘Will tomato be OK? It’s not very exciting, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what it is,’ Gwendolyn replied in a dull voice. ‘Where’s Gracie? Isn’t she having any with us?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe she’s having a lie-down – want me to check?’

  Gwendolyn nodded, and Lizzie left the tin on the worktop and headed off to check the other rooms. Chances were Gracie would be having a rest, or else she might be sitting with Florentina. They’d both liked sitting with Florentina over the past couple of days, as hers was the only voice in the house not drowned in emotion. She could listen objectively, without the anger and shock and raging grief clouding her view, and she offered sensible advice about the most practical aspects of James’s death.