Spring Blossoms at Mill Grange

by Jenny Kane

  Helen reached for the kettle. ‘I suppose people see things they like and adapt them into what they can afford.’

  ‘There’ll be a lot of that going on for us.’ Tina’s face glowed as her eyes flicked back to Mabel’s thoughtful gift. ‘We’re so lucky to be able to get married here. Saves a fortune.’

  ‘I hadn’t realised Mill Grange had a marriage licence.’

  ‘It was one of the many things Thea looked into when she was restoring the place while hunting for ways for the house to earn its own keep. All the paperwork is in place. All Sam had to do was send it to be processed.’

  ‘Will you open it as a venue for weddings in general?’

  Tina opened the dishwasher, unloading the latest batch of clean mugs, plates and cutlery. ‘Maybe. If the retreat side of things flounders.’ Straightening up, Tina caught the wistful look in Helen’s eye. ‘Would you fancy it then, getting married here, I mean?’

  ‘It’s a beautiful place.’ Helen switched her attention to the tea bag pot. ‘Not really something I need to worry about. Do you want a cuppa? I’m taking a load to Tom and the team. All five guests are with us morning, so I’d better get back.’

  ‘I’m good, thanks.’

  As Tina watched Helen balance seven mugs precariously on a tray she swore she was okay carrying, Tina cursed her thoughtlessness. She’d been so wrapped up in her own wedding, that she had been tactless. It was so obvious Helen was in love with Tom. If the pair of them didn’t sort themselves out soon, she was going to have to talk to Thea about staging an intervention.

  *

  There was no doubt that the site was a fascinating one. As Shaun looked over the geophysics results that Ajay and Andy, affectionately known as the AA, had already compiled, he could tell that the villa had been impressive. Seeing it stood proudly in the middle of a Romano-British landscape must have been something special.

  Making notes about where he thought the opening test investigation pits should go, Shaun glanced over to where Thea was doing her first piece to camera. It was a simple introduction to the history of the villa to England. Despite her fears of looking zombie-like through the lens, Thea shone as she explained the evolution of the most famous of all Roman accommodation types.

  ‘Here you go, mate.’ Andy dropped a file in front of Shaun. ‘The updated scripts for today.’

  ‘Updated?’ Shaun flicked open the file. ‘I haven’t done anything beyond the episode’s introduction yet.’

  ‘Apparently Julian has lots of ideas.’

  ‘I bet he does,’ Shaun muttered as he scanned through the papers.

  Returning to the geophysics plans that he and Ajay had been particularly excited about, Andy asked, ‘What do you think? Private bath house for the villa’s owner and guests?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you with me, Shaun?’ Andy tapped a finger on the plans. ‘Possible bath house?’

  ‘Yeah. Very probably.’

  ‘I bet Thea will be keen on that.’

  Tearing his eyes away from where his girlfriend was working, Shaun sighed. ‘Sorry mate. Yes, bath house. Thea will be extremely interested.’

  ‘Julian obviously thinks it is too, look.’ Andy turned a page over in the script folder. ‘He’s got her talking about bathing ritual and routines for quite a while.’

  ‘So he has.’ Shaun’s mouth went dry.

  ‘You might actually get to do some proper archaeology this time. Looks like Thea has most of the screen time. Julian must have been impressed by the bits and pieces she did to camera for the Mill Grange Christmas episode.’

  ‘Of course!’ Shaun groaned at his own stupidity. ‘He’s seen her before, but she hadn’t seen him.’

  ‘You’ve lost me, mate.’

  ‘Julian, did he know Thea and I were a couple?’

  ‘Sure.’ Andy fired up his laptop ready to process some more results. ‘Ajay and I told him when we arrived yesterday. I got the impression he already knew though. I assumed you, Thea, or Phil would have told him.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Didn’t get much sleep.’

  ‘Lucky devil.’ Andy winked as he clicked through to the page on his computer he wanted.

  Shaun mumbled, ‘Not really, mate.’

  *

  Lady Bea oozed excitement down the phone line as she reacted to Sam telling her they’d set the wedding date for May 23rd.

  ‘May is a wonderful month to marry in. I can just picture Tina standing in the hallway in a gorgeous dress waiting to be escorted to the church. Perhaps she could go by horse and carriage! Now we have a solid date to work with, I can give the vicar a call. I’ll do it as soon as I’m off the phone. He gets booked up, especially in early summer. And then…’

  Sam’s heart sank. His mother was talking ten-to-the dozen. Her joy radiated down the line. Trying hard to cut into her stream of words, hating that he was about to crush her dream, Sam knew he had to finish telling her about the rest of their wedding plans before she put her preconceptions in motion.

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘Sorry, Sam. I’m just so excited. I can’t wait. It’s been years since Malvern House saw a wedding and—’

  ‘Mum!’ Sam realised he’d shouted, and lowered his tone. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, but you’re getting a bit carried away.’

  ‘I am, aren’t I?’

  Sam could picture Lady Bea on the other end of the line. She’d be perched on the Chesterfield that had been known as the telephone chair ever since he was little boy.

  ‘I’m glad you’re excited, Mum. Tina and I are too, but, the thing is—’

  ‘What? What’s the thing? Is everything okay? I know Tina hasn’t got any parents of her own so, we thought that…’

  Sam shook his head. His normal, calm, placid mother had turned into a mass of wedding anxiety, the likes of which neither he, nor Tina, had come anywhere near exhibiting.

  ‘Please, Mum. Everything is alright. Tina’s fine, I’m fine, but this is our wedding, and as you said, Tina hasn’t got parents, but she is the bride-to-be. Old fashioned though it sounds, I want her to choose where to marry and what sort of wedding we have so—’

  ‘You mean you might not marry here?’ Lady Bea’s voice cracked, but Sam heard her quickly rally. ‘I admit I’d assumed that you would, but… Could you ask her if that would be something she’d consider?’

  ‘Alright, Mum, but to be honest, Tina is pretty set on marrying here. Our friends here are the closest thing she has to a family.’

  ‘Well yes, I can see that, but we’re your actual family Sam, and we have traditions.’

  Surprised by how much like his father she suddenly sounded, Sam was lost for words as his mother added, ‘I’m just asking that you explain to Tina that all your ancestors, male and female, have married at Malvern House in Worcestershire. We’d very much like you, as our third son, to continue that tradition.’

  The line went silent. Sam was stunned. He’d never heard his mother sound so inflexible about anything before. Until Tina had come along, he’d been estranged from his parents, particularly his father. But Tina had fixed that, and over the past few months an increasingly relaxed relationship had existed between them.

  It hadn’t occurred to Sam that he’d be expected to marry at their home. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them, the sunlight that poured through the roof of his tent in Mill Grange’s gardens made him blink. Spring had arrived in earnest. Until his phone call, he’d been as optimistic as the budding daffodils that lined the driveway. Now he felt a sense of foreboding.

  Did he upset the parents he’d only recently been reconciled with, or his future wife?

  Six

  Thursday March 19th

  Helen brushed the mud off her palms and straightened up from the trench in which she’d been kneeling. The retreat guest she was working with, a chirpy former Marine called Pete, smiled broadly as he shook his head.

  ‘I could do this w
hen I was digging on the pretend site. I’m all fingers and thumbs now it’s for real.’

  Helen was reassuring. ‘Everyone’s the same, don’t worry.’

  Shuffling backwards, Pete held his trowel out before him, gingerly resting its long side edge against the earth.

  ‘That’s it. Now if you keep the trowel at that angle, and ease it backwards you’ll get a nice clean sweep. That way it takes just a fraction of soil away at a time, but isn’t so slow as to be frustrating and make no impact.’

  Pete steadily worked his arm backwards. ‘I had no idea this would be so satisfying.’

  ‘Amazing, isn’t it? And if you find something, the sensation is incredible, especially the first time.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  As Pete scraped back the earth, Tom wandered over. ‘Good technique, mate.’ He gave Helen a nod of acknowledgement. ‘If our thinking is correct, you are on top of what was either a store room or possibly a private room for a senior guard. Obviously, we can’t be exact yet. Any finds will help us work things out as we go.’

  Leaving Pete to get on without them breathing down his neck, but with instructions to call if he was unsure about anything, Tom and Helen headed to the trestle table that acted as their daytime desk at the edge of the main site.

  ‘How are your team getting on?’

  ‘Really well.’ Tom grinned. ‘I’m so glad Shaun found this fortlet. I’m sure it would be good work therapy whatever type of site this was, but over the past few months I’ve heard lots of our guests comment on how they, as former soldiers, are working on the home of other former soldiers. It gives them a personal connection to the dig.’

  ‘I’ve heard the same. It’s rather nice.’ Helen waved her clipboard. ‘Did you want to look at the plans?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I got the impression you wanted something.’

  ‘Oh yes, I had a message from Sam; he wants a brief staff meeting today. I’m imagining it’s about whatever he was going to tell us before Bert was taken ill.’

  ‘Any news on Bert?’

  ‘Situation is the same: no worse, but no improvement either.’

  ‘I suppose stable is good in the circumstances.’ Helen picked up her trench plan. ‘If Pete wants to, he could help me finish that trench this week, but only if he’s keen. I’d hate to stop him doing anything else he fancied. Should I ask him?’

  ‘Both he, and one of the other chaps I have working at the moment, are good, and both seem keen to keep digging. If the three of you concentrated on the storeroom trench, as we’ve called it for now, it might even be open down to the bedrock by end of play tomorrow.’

  Helen took a pen and circled the area they were working on. ‘Once that’s done, the fortlet will be almost completely open. The next stage will be to start to consolidate what’s been found and preserve it as it stands in a more permanent way. I need to chat to Sam, Thea and Shaun about the best way to go about it.’

  ‘All I know for sure is that Sam wants the fortlet left open.’

  ‘Yes.’ Helen was thoughtful. ‘It isn’t just the site I wanted to discuss. Look, do you have time for a drink after the guests have gone home tomorrow? There’s something I’d like to pick your brain about.’

  ‘Sure.’ Tom looked over to where Pete was methodically working his way through the soil’s stratigraphic layers. ‘That would be good. As it’ll be Friday night, shall we grab some dinner too? Maybe we could nip out of Upwich? I love Moira’s cooking, but I’ll be honest, I’ve been craving a decent curry. Sue told me there was a great Indian restaurant in Tiverton. Fancy it?’

  Helen’s pulse beat slightly faster than usual. Is he asking me on a date, or does he just want a change of scene with poppadoms? ‘That sounds great. I haven’t had naan bread in months.’

  ‘I’ll book a table for seven o’clock if that works for you?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  ‘Are you going to give me a clue as to what you wanted to talk about?’

  ‘It’s just a work thing. It’ll keep. Be nice to get out of here for a while though.’

  Tom could hear a voice at the back of his mind telling him to back track. It sounds like a date. It isn’t, it’s just curry. ‘I’m looking forward to it. We could do with being somewhere without mud under our fingernails.’

  *

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea! I love it.’ Tina scribbled, “Buy Easter Eggs”, on her ever-present list.

  As the four friends sat around the trestle table Sam and Tom had erected a few days ago, Sam elaborated. ‘As we’ve had no bookings for Easter week, I thought we’d see if Mill Grange could host an Easter egg hunt over Easter weekend. It will be hard work for us, but it should also be tremendous fun. I’m sure lots of locals will come. Obviously, as you, Helen and Tom, don’t work weekends, it would be up to you if you want to join in or not.’

  Tom laughed. ‘Dylan would not be impressed if I didn’t help the Easter Bunny out! Although, it will depend if it’s my weekend with him or not. Sue and I are going to renegotiate when I take care of him, so I’m a bit up in the air on dates right now.’

  Helen could just picture Dylan running around hunting for chocolate treats. ‘I bet he’d enjoy helping to hide the eggs.’

  ‘Easter is just over three weeks away, so if we start advertising straight away, it should be worth doing.’ Sam looked up at Tina. ‘In Thea’s absence, would you mind doing the press bit? Calling the local papers, designing a poster to take around the shops and so on?’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘I expect I could ask them to put a poster up at Dylan’s school. Be the right age demographic and all that.’

  ‘That’s great, thanks, Tom.’

  Helen smiled. ‘I can just imagine Dylan telling his friends all about it, and then proudly leading them around the house to hunt those chocolate beauties down.’

  ‘Me too!’ Tina laughed. ‘How many eggs will we need do you think?’

  ‘No idea, but better bulk buy. The village shop might help us out with that.’

  Helen started to picture a few of the places they could hide eggs. ‘How will we make sure people stay off the fortlet and the fake dig?’

  Sam looked in the direction of the site. ‘Good point. Can you and Tom liaise about how we can cordon the relevant areas off for a while?’

  ‘Sure.’ Helen made a note on her pad. ‘How much are you going to charge for this?’

  ‘I thought two pounds per child. Not too much then if you have four kids.’ Sam looked up at his friends. ‘The only problem is, what with Bert being unwell, we may have to ask someone other than Mabel to do tea and coffee.’

  ‘She’ll be gutted if we don’t ask her to do them.’ Tina sighed.

  ‘It could be just what she needs to look forward to, to be honest,’ Helen agreed. ‘Mabel is one of life’s doers. If she isn’t helping someone, she won’t feel like herself. I’m worried about Bert, but I’m just as worried about Mabel. Her mental health won’t be in good shape if she doesn’t do something constructive soon.’

  ‘I suspect you’re right.’ Sam pulled a face. ‘So, shall I ask her to help? Maybe she could start planning a few cakes to bake, etc? If we let everyone have free tea and coffee or juice, but charged for cakes then we should cover our costs. I was also thinking of offering half the proceeds to the Help for Heroes foundation. What do you think?’

  ‘I think you’re the nicest man in the world, and I’m glad I’m marrying you.’ Tina leant forward and kissed Sam’s cheek.

  Tom and Helen exchanged glances. Each experienced a shimmer of attraction that they both stoically ignored.

  Bringing the meeting back to order, Sam said, ‘Thea and Shaun will be back here as they aren’t filming over the Easter weekend. I hope they don’t mind walking into a horde of children.’

  ‘Thea did say she’d be back for…’ Tina suddenly turned to Helen, ‘Of course! I’d almost forgotten.’

  ‘What?’ Sam frowned, as if he suspected he
had forgotten something important.

  Helen wasn’t quick enough. By the time she realised what Tina was going to say the words had already floated from her friend’s mouth.

  ‘It’s Helen’s birthday that weekend. Thea won’t want to miss that.’

  ‘Birthday?’ A faint memory of the first proper conversation they’d had the previous autumn floated through Tom’s mind. In a roundabout way she’d told him she was thirty-nine, which meant this next birthday was a milestone. One, he suspected, from Helen’s expression, she’d rather not be facing.

  ‘It’s no big deal. I’m happy to enjoy the Easter egg hunt and forget the rest of that week.’

  ‘But, you’ll be…’ Tina stopped talking as she registered the warning look on Helen’s face. ‘Okay, I’ll drop it. But if you change your mind, just let me know, and we’ll party.’

  *

  A black car drew away from Bert and Mabel’s driveway as Sam approached their cottage on the edge of Upwich. Mabel was still on the doorstep, and waved as she saw Sam approach.

  ‘Good news?’

  Mabel blew her nose in a flurry of tissues, and Sam suspected if he hadn’t turned up, she’d have allowed herself to indulge in some very un-British blubbing. ‘The antibiotics are working. His temperature is down and the coughing no longer sounds as if he’s trying to chew through hardboard.’

  ‘That’s fantastic. Is Bert up to a visitor, or has the doctor worn him out?’

  ‘He’s going nuts in there. A visitor would be welcome.’

  *

  Bert, tucked away in the cottage’s spare room, presumably so he didn’t wake Mabel with his coughing at night, looked much smaller than he had the week before. The room had a stuffy air of illness about it. Sam was desperate to open a window.

  ‘You can open a window if you want.’ Bert smiled as Sam looked surprised. ‘I know an escape hatch is always welcome. Besides the air is so stale in here. Mabel won’t let me open it in case I get cold.’

  ‘I can’t blame her for that.’