by N/A
“So, come on Tim, why don’t you show me this workshop of yours,” urged Mike, pushing back his chair and making his way towards the boot room door. “Are you really working on a solar-powered ride-on lawn mower?”
“I am…”
Millie rolled her eyes as the three men disappeared into the courtyard. Standing at the kitchen window, she followed their progress across the cobbles, smiling as Tim unlocked the huge padlock and wrenched the door of his workshop open with an exaggerated flourish. Gina and Marianne excused themselves to get ready for their afternoon ‘treat’ and Millie was able at last to survey the kitchen through fresh eyes.
It was like another episode from the Cotswold Culinary Catastrophe. Detritus was strewn across every available surface: bags of flour, slices of French toast, empty egg cartons, coffee beans, escaped pistachios, a dusting of ground ginger. Cutlery drawers had been opened and baking trays balanced on them, saucepans and measuring jugs piled high in the sinks.
She knew Zach had christened her Messy Millie, but Tim really did take the accolade of the Most Untidy Cook she had encountered in her career to date. She opened the door of the pantry, probably her favourite room in the house - a miniature bazaar of culinary preparations that sent ripples of supreme joy through her veins whenever she entered its hallowed space. She could spend hours, no weeks, in there and still crave an extra few minutes, but now wasn’t the time. She had to hide everything away before Dexter arrived with his guest.
Millie sighed and reached for her Marigolds, determined to scrub, wipe and polish until the kitchen shone, but before she could splosh a generous splash of disinfectant into her bucket she heard the front door open and an unfamiliar voice call out for Claudia. Her stomach performed a swift pirouette of panic because the enquiry held a distinct Australian twang.
God! Dexter had arrived early!
She could only pray that Sven wasn’t following in his wake. Sadly, her guardian angel had clocked off duty because when she turned round there were two, well-groomed men hovering in the doorway, clearly reluctant to set foot into the chaotic kitchen for fear of getting their immaculate attire dirty. The smaller guy with trendy tortoiseshell glasses, sandy-coloured hair and a dimple in the middle of his clean-shaven chin, was the first to speak whilst his friend looked on like a gobsmacked goldfish.
“Oh my God! What happened in here? It looks like a flour bomb’s exploded. Where’s Claudia?”
Millie fleetingly considered running across the courtyard to alert Tim, but her manners forced her to walk towards Dexter, her hand outstretched.
“Hello, you must be Claudia’s cousin, Dexter. I’m Amelia Harper – Claudia engaged me to help her present the Festive Feast cookery course this week.”
“But where is she?”
Dexter’s eyes widened as they landed on the pyramid of dirty plates and cups piled next to the sink and abandoned on the draining board ready for their twirl in the dishwasher.
“She’s…”
Millie glanced at the second man, his expression speaking volumes as he remained on the threshold, his upper lip curled in distaste. There was a touch of arrogance about the way he held his head, his electric blue eyes sharp and alert for the possible unwelcome approach of a rogue paparazzo. Taller than Dexter by at least four inches, with the most perfectly sculpted cheekbones and bleached blond hair teased professionally into spikes, she understood immediately how he had reached the dizzying heights of Sweden’s celebrity circus. Despite the revulsion evident on his face, he oozed charisma from every pore – it was just that it wasn’t directed at her. He obviously had an on-off switch and today it was resolutely switched off.
“I’m sorry, Claudia’s indisposed.”
Ergh, thought Millie. She sounded like a Victorian governess, but that was the first word that had come into her head. She didn’t know how close Claudia and Dexter were after everything that had happened recently and had no idea whether he would rush upstairs to sit at her bedside and stroke her fevered brow or avoid the room like the plague.
“So you’ve stepped into her shoes?”
“Yes, I…”
“What’s the matter with you? Haven’t you heard of tidying up as you go along?” demanded Sven, fixing her with the most malevolent gaze.
Millie cringed as she realised that Sven belonged firmly to the irritating segment of the people spectrum. She knew it was the contents of his heart that had suddenly created the semblance of weasel-like features in her mind’s eye, because without his declared intentions to change Stonelea beyond recognition, she would have probably described him as handsome.
“Yes, of course I have, and I was just about to…”
“Where’s Tim? He’s supposed to be expecting us and he promised he would have everything ready for the tour…”
Maybe it was the way Sven was snarling at her like she was some kind of inconvenient minion who had no right to be in Claudia’s kitchen, an imposter who had little idea what she was doing. Or maybe it was because she experienced a sudden surge of indignation that she did have the right credentials to be standing where she was. Whichever it was, she decided to interrupt Dexter’s flow.
“If I remember correctly, you were expected at three o’clock and it’s now…” she glanced overtly at the clock above the refrigerator, “twelve fifty-five. You are over two hours early.”
Dexter opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it and turned to lead Sven back into the hallway – currently devoid of the magnificent Christmas tree to accommodate Sven’s declared loathing of all household adornments.
“We’ll wait in the library…” began Dexter, clearly a little flustered at the unexpected turn of events.
Millie saw his fingers tremble when he seized the brass door handle of Claudia’s favourite room, and a spasm of empathy erupted deep in her chest. She knew in that moment that Dexter had been forced into the situation of selling Stonelea Manor by the people he owed money to. She just wished he had been able to find a purchaser who would continue with the traditions of the village, and not this would-be recluse who intended to turn the place into something akin to a high security prison.
“And bring us some coffee,” ordered Sven, and without registering Millie’s jaw-drop, the men retreated to Claudia’s sanctuary.
The sound of their footsteps on the parquet flooring left a residue of distress in Millie’s heart. Well, as viewings go, that hadn’t started off so well, she thought as she set the kettle to boil and rinsed out the cafetière. She briefly considered the tin of rat poison she had noticed in the cupboard under the sink but discarded the thought as impractical – eliminating Sven would only provide a temporary reprieve to Claudia and Tim’s problems. A spark of sorrow ignited in her heart when she thought of the uptight, obnoxious millionaire becoming the new owner of the home in which Claudia and Tim had invested all their hopes and dreams.
She delivered the cafetière, along with a plate of sliced blueberry cream tea bread left over from brunch, to the library, feeling like the hired help. She was tempted to serve the coffee in Sven’s lap, but even she had to admit that sullying those impeccable Armani trousers would have been sacrilege. She could only hope that the sticky lemon icing would be so irresistible that Sven wouldn’t be able to stop himself from licking his fingers and allowing his mouth to twist into something approaching a smile– although somehow she doubted that had happened since he was a toddler.
“Where did you say Tim was?” asked Dexter, without even thanking her for the coffee.
“In his workshop.”
Oh, God! Should she have said that? She knew Claudia had instructed Tim, under pain of death, to exclude his den from the Stonelea Manor Grand Tour.
“Right.”
Dexter slung back his black coffee and rose to his feet, stress pulling at the corners of his lips. “Come on, Sven. I’ll introduce you to my cousin’s husband and we’ll get this show on the road.”
Sven simply nodded.
Clearly a man of
few words, thought Millie, wondering whether it was because he saved his voice for more worthy causes, whether he thought her undeserving of his attention, or if he was still in a state of shock from the kitchen fiasco. Surely a bit of clutter couldn’t render a person near mute! She almost crumbled into hysteria when she saw him remove a bottle of hand sanitiser and rub a generous coating over his hands. Was she mistaken or had his faced blanched at the sight of the higgledy-piggledy image of Claudia’s well-stocked library shelves?
Instead of guiding Sven through the kitchen to Tim’s workshop, Dexter sensibly decided to take a detour via the front door and round the west wing of the house to the courtyard, regaling his friend with a monologue of information about the more positive aspects of the exterior architecture like a super-powered robot estate agent.
Millie followed them as far as the door, her heart pounding out a cacophony of panic. Despite her trepidation over what was about to ensue, she still paused for a moment to drink in the bucolic landscape outside. The sun was struggling to remain above the treetops, but still managed to send slithers of bright light through the clouds, circling the whole scene with a golden halo. In her humble opinion, if Sven was unable to look beyond the surface to see the beauty beyond, then he didn’t deserve to own such a slice of magnificence.
Millie wasn’t sure what to do. Should she retreat to the kitchen and either hide in the pantry until the whole episode was over, or make a start on the tidying up in the hope that it would be pristine and daisy-fresh when Dexter and Sven returned? Or should she take the shortcut through the boot room and warn Tim that they were on their way?
What would Claudia do?
She decided to warn Tim. She sprinted to the back door and out into the courtyard only to find that Dexter and Sven were within yards of the workshop entrance; two tall blond men, elegantly dressed in immaculately-cut designer suits and matching overcoats with velvet collars; Dexter’s navy blue, Sven’s a dark charcoal grey. Sven had added a pair of leather gloves, probably to protect himself from potential contact with germs. Millie was suddenly reminded of a pair of undertakers and only a flock of revolving crows was needed to complete the ominous picture.
Her ears pricked up as she listened in to their conversation.
“So, completion at the end of January?”
“Sure. The funds are available as soon as you tell me the house has been vacated. The bulldozers will be on standby from the first.”
A nip of dread shot through Millie’s veins. Had she heard right? Had Sven actually said the word bulldozers? Oh, God, could Dexter have made a worse choice for the new owner of Stonelea Manor?
She hurried to catch the men up and arrived outside the workshop at the same time they did. Dexter glanced at her in irritation as he opened the door to be presented with a view of Leo and Mike’s buttocks as they bent over to inspect Tim’s pride and joy, the upturned remote-controlled, solar-powered, ride-on lawn mower.
“Excuse me? Who are you?” asked Dexter, a faint hint of panic in his tone.
Leo turned around, a ready smile on his lips, his hand extended to greet the new arrivals, but his smile faded when he registered the expression of belligerence on Sven’s face.
“Leo Groves, of Groves and Hindmarsh,” he said, a formal note creeping into his voice. “This is my business partner, Mike Sanderson.”
Mike stepped forward, his bulk forcing Dexter and Sven to retreat a few steps into the courtyard, causing Millie to take an unexpected stride backwards where her heel connected with a loose cobble and she tumbled to the ground, landing on her bottom with a loud harmph.
In an instant, she was righted by a strong pair of hands. From the whiff of lemony cologne, she knew immediately that Zach had come to her aid and the tension that had been rising in her body melted. She watched him swiftly take everything in and swing into action.
“Perhaps you’d be better having this meeting in the house?”
“Ah, Zach,” said Dexter, offering him his palm. “I…”
But he got no further. An almighty explosion wrenched the air, sending debris flying into the courtyard and everyone running for cover. Zach wasted no time rushing into the workshop, fighting his way through upended spades, buckets, pitchforks, brooms and ancient, rust-covered garden implements like an explorer in virgin jungle, until he reached the side of a very dazed Tim.
Millie was inches behind him, taking in the wide-eyed surprise on Tim’s face as he surveyed his beloved workshop in distress. Relief seeped through her body when she saw he was unhurt but doused in a generous coating of vivid green powder that made him look like the Incredible Hulk’s more puny brother. With Leo and Mike’s help, Zach escorted Tim through the jumble of tools into the courtyard - just in time to witness the whole of the workshop’s roof tumble down in their wake, sending a cloud of silver dust into the sky that then rained down on the audience like grey snow.
Ergh!” exclaimed Sven, covering his hair with his forearms, turning his back on the fallout, and making a dash for the boot room, with Dexter, Leo and Mike close behind him.
Millie was about to follow everyone into the library when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She removed it and glanced at the screen, smiling at Zach.
“My sister, Jen. I’ll catch you up.”
She began walking up the stairs so she could take her call in private.
Chapter Fourteen
“Hello?”
“Oh, Millie, thank God! I’ve been ringing you for the last half hour!”
“Hi, Jen. Sorry, things have been a bit manic around here. Would you believe Tim has just almost blown himself up and the worst thing is…”
“Yes, yes,” interrupted Jen, a wobble in her voice. “Is Claudia with you?”
“No. Why?”
“Are you sitting down?”
“What do you mean? Should I sit down?”
“It would probably be best if you did.”
“Oh, no! Is it Mum? Please tell me it’s not Mum?”
“It’s not Mum, but you do need to prepare yourself for a shock.”
“A shock. Are the girls…”
“The girls are fine.”
“Jen, will you please just tell me what’s going on? I can’t stand the suspense.”
Millie had reached the top of the stairs and sunk down on the top step, staring straight ahead at the spectacular gallery of oil paintings as she stole herself to hear her sister’s news.
“I really would have preferred to have been with you when I told you, but I don’t want you to see it first on social media so…”
“Jen! For heaven’s sake!”
“Luke has just announced the birth of his baby. It’s a girl and they’ve called her Alice.”
“Oh.”
Millie scrambled around for something suitable to say in response, but she discovered that her brain had spontaneously been washed of all cogent thought. Of course, she’d known that Luke and Donna’s baby was due soon, but she had never been presented with a similar scenario upon which to base an appropriate reaction.
Over the last six months, she had tried hard not to dwell on Luke’s imminent parenthood because even though she had moved on from the heartbreak he had caused, she couldn’t forget that during the last few weeks of their relationship, leading up to her engagement party when the affair had been made public, Donna had been pregnant with Luke’s child, and that hurt.
“Millie? Are you still there? Millie?”
“It’s okay, Jen. I’m still here.”
The strain evident in her voice made her sound like a strangled duck. She tried to swallow, but the acidic taste at the back of her throat caused her to gag.
“How do you feel, darling?”
Jen’s tone was gentle, sympathetic, the same voice she used when one of Millie’s nieces needed comforting after a fall. She fervently wished her sister was sitting next to her on the step, armed with a plaster and a loving hug to make the pain go away. But she wasn’t seven years old, she was a g
rown-up and, like it or not, she had to deal with whatever life threw at her. She had two choices; either she could crumble into a sniffling mess or she could straighten her shoulders, draw in a deep, fortifying breath and work on her forgiveness skills.
She briefly toyed with the first option as she explored her emotions to come up with an appropriate response to her sister’s enquiry. Her stomach muscles had contracted around something akin to a pineapple, and her chest felt as though a block of concrete was squeezing the air from her lungs which made her feel lightheaded.
“I’m… I’m fine.”
“If you need me to come over to Berryford I can be with you in a couple of hours. Or if you wanted to come to us, I’m sure Claudia will understand when you explain what’s happened. You’ve only got Friday’s farewell cocktail party tomorrow so I’m sure she’ll be able to manage without you.”
“No, no, I couldn’t do that…”
Suddenly the cloud of confusion lifted, and she was able to put the whole thing into perspective. Claudia and Tim were facing a much more upsetting scenario – not only losing their business but losing their home and the support of their friends, yet they were facing the prospect with dignity and positivity for what the future could hold elsewhere. That was what she had to do.
As she sat on the step, listening to her sister’s soothing words, she realised that her reaction had been that of surprise rather than upset. She didn’t love Luke anymore and he had every right to make a new life with someone else, including having a family. With the benefit of hindsight, she realised that they hadn’t been the perfect fit she had thought they were and she was grateful to him for terminating their relationship, although she would have preferred it if he could have done that as a soon as he had met Donna and realised she was the one, and certainly not at their engagement party.