Midsummer Dreams at Mill Grange

by Jenny Kane

  Leon still hadn’t spoken, but all the time the waiter was fussing about, he’d kept his eyes levelled on Tina. She wished she knew what he was thinking. His deadpan expression gave away nothing as he ordered wine for both of them, before she could tell him she was driving.

  You’re an adult. There is nothing to say you have to drink the wine he has ordered without consulting you.

  Put out, but telling herself she could drink the water in the carafe on the table, Tina decided she’d have to make allowances for Leon. He was used to being in control. Might it not, just for an hour or two, be nice to have someone make all the decisions for her?

  By the time she had opened the menu the waiter had pressed into her hands, Tina managed to direct a fresh smile towards her companion.

  ‘I like your shoes.’

  As opening lines went, it was not the one Tina had expected. Does that mean he doesn’t like the rest of me? Oh God, does he have a ‘thing’ for feet?

  ‘Thank you.’ Tina glanced down at the glittery heels that displayed the gentle curve of her feet while affording a glimpse of her turquoise painted toenails. ‘They’re my favourite pair.’

  Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Leon gestured to the menu. ‘Do you understand what is written here, or would you like me to translate for you?’

  Biting the insides of her cheeks together so she didn’t respond to his patronising tone, Tina studied her wood-bound menu. Everything was in French.

  ‘I’m fine, thank you.’ Disregarding her intention to ignore the alcohol, Tina took a hefty swig from her wine glass. ‘I’ll have the cigares de légumes croquants et algues nori en tempura to start with please, followed by le pressé de bœuf laqué. Thank you.’

  Enjoying the tiny rise to Leon’s eyebrows as he realised she could speak and read French, Tina watched while he clicked his fingers towards the waiter. She would have winced in embarrassment if they’d been anywhere else, but all the other customers were acting in a similarly high-handed manner.

  As Leon ordered the same meal as her, Tina picked up a tiny piece of bread and crumbled it in her fingers. It was so crispy it could have masqueraded as a crouton; perhaps that was what it was supposed to be. No one had spoken since the shoe comment beyond the requirement of ordering food, so Tina fell back on the classic blind date opening line.

  ‘Have you been on many dates via the website?’

  Leon was appalled. ‘Shhh.’ His eyes skimmed the room, as if he was afraid someone had heard Tina. ‘That we have to stoop to such methods to secure companionship is hardly a matter for discussion in a public place!’

  Tina, her own voice low, couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘You’re ashamed of being here with me?’

  ‘Come on, you are clearly an intelligent woman. You must see how using such sites or apps signals an element of failure in our otherwise successful lives.’ Sitting back up, the stiffness of his movement acting as a very definite signal that that part of the conversation was over, Leon added, ‘Remind me, what it is you do?’

  Struggling not to gawp like a bewildered goldfish, Tina found herself replying on autopilot. ‘I’m the business liaison manager for the Exmoor Heritage Trust.’

  ‘A responsible job for someone so young.’

  ‘Yes.’ Tina suddenly had the urge to giggle. She could just imagine how Thea would react when she told her about this in the morning. ‘I’m currently helping renovate a Victorian manor, near Upwich.’

  Leon’s eyebrows rose, ‘I saw an appeal about that on the news. That wasn’t you though?’

  ‘That was Thea. She’s in charge of the renovation as a whole, whereas I work on a broader range of properties and sites.’

  ‘An interesting way to spend your life, I’m sure.’ Leon did not sound sure at all.

  ‘How about you? Your profile…’ Tina changed her words as she saw Leon’s brow darken. ‘You said that you were involved in property.’

  ‘That is a rather loose way of putting it.’

  ‘Then tighten it up.’

  Leon was spared expressing his surprise at her curt response by the arrival of the waiter with their starters.

  Not caring what his views on her etiquette, or lack thereof might be, Tina punched her fork into the nearest piece of tempura. ‘Property in the UK or abroad?’

  ‘In the States and Scotland.’

  ‘To cater for the oil industry?’

  ‘Yes.’ Again Leon didn’t hold back from a show of surprise. ‘How did you work that out?’

  Tina felt her hackles rising. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d met someone who made her angry and defensive like this. ‘Well, I have a brain, and I have friends who live in Aberdeen. They are always complaining how property magnates have scooped up all the affordable housing and turned it into unaffordable housing.’

  Leon levelled his stern gaze on Tina, but said nothing. Suddenly he looked less like George Clooney and more like a villain from an Alfred Hitchcock movie. What the hell am I doing here? Why did I think this was the sort of man I wanted?

  With one more mouthful of her delicious starter, Tina picked her napkin off her lap and got to her feet. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’

  As she walked across the restaurant’s heel-echoing floor, Tina’s heart beat so fast she thought it might break free of her ribs. She wasn’t sure where she was going. To the toilets or out of the restaurant, never to return.

  It wasn’t until she was sitting in her car, glad she’d only had a couple of mouthfuls of wine so could drive, that she registered she’d walked out on Leon. She was prepared to bet that was a first for him.

  ‘It will bloody well do him good!’ With her pulse still galloping around her veins, and not looking back in case Leon had sent a waiter to search for her (no way would he go after her himself),Tina drove into the night to find the comfort of a Chinese takeaway and a night with a boxset of Poirot.

  Twelve

  April 9th

  There was a message in Tina’s neat script waiting on the scullery table when Thea reached her office the following morning.

  Malcolm wants to see you in person. Today at 11 a.m. in the Taunton office. Take these.

  Thea followed the arrow Tina had drawn to a file of accounts.

  ‘Bang goes another day’s work on the manor.’ Gripping the mug of coffee she’d carried through from the kitchen, Thea opened the file as she finished reading the note.

  PS. Sorry I didn’t hunt you down in person. I thought you should lie in after the shocks of yesterday. Gone out for coffee and biscuits.

  PPS. I’ll tell you about the date later.

  While wondering how Tina had got on with her silver fox, Thea scowled at the figures. ‘If these are supposed to work in Mill Grange’s favour, I’m going to have to wear a low-cut top.’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’ Derek gave her an impish wink as he came into the scullery. ‘Thought I’d come and see if you were alright.’ He gestured to the seat opposite Thea and sat down. ‘Mabel has gone too far this time. Even Diane is giving her a wide berth this morning.’

  ‘It’s not so much that she asked Mr Cowlson to help us, it’s the fact she didn’t speak to me first. These things should be group decisions and this one in particular could chime the death toll for Mill Grange as a public heritage centre.’

  Thea looked at Derek’s grave face. All signs of his previous flirting had disappeared under a cloud of concern. ‘Do you want me to carry on outside with the kids, or are we calling a halt? I’d like to keep going if I can. I had a great time with them yesterday.’

  ‘I bet they loved working with you. I’m sorry I had to stop things before you lit your bonfire.’

  ‘No matter. We’ll do it this morning. It’s cooler today, so it’ll be more welcome.’

  ‘Thanks Derek.’ Thea closed the file of numbers. ‘I have to go into Taunton to try and undo the damage Mabel has done.’

  ‘Would you like me to come? Moral support and all that.’

  ‘I
appreciate the offer, but I’d be happier with you here keeping an eye on things.’

  Derek nodded. ‘Can I ask how you got on with Shaun Cowlson last night?’

  *

  As she drove across the open ground of Exmoor, alert for stray sheep and ponies, Thea reflected on the previous evening. Despite a shaky start, it hadn’t been anything like she’d assumed it would be. For that matter, Shaun was nothing like she remembered him. Although, now she thought about it, most of what she knew about him she’d gleaned from Becky, who in a state of broken-hearted hurt, may not have been a terribly reliable witness.

  After they’d cleared the air, and Thea had confessed her fears for the manor’s future, Shaun had leapt from room to room like an over-excited puppy. On arrival in each new space, he’d stop, statue-still, taking in everything he could. His examination was almost forensic as he swivelled 360 degrees on the spot so as not to miss a thing. He’d tapped walls, knocked on the woodwork and waxed lyrical about the manor’s original functioning Victorian baths and flush toilets.

  Thea had felt like a tour guide who’d learnt the script, only to find the audience not only knew all the words, but had memorised the back notes and accompanying stage plans. Shaun talked with enthusiasm about mullions and mortise and tenon joints, soldering techniques and wallpaper restoration. ‘So much for my assumption he only knew about buried things,’ Thea told a passing sheep.

  Shaun’s excitement had been contagious, and she’d quickly forgotten that his presence as a volunteer could cause more problems than it solved.

  Slowing to let a ewe and her two lambs meander across the road, Thea recalled her sense of surprise when she’d realised they’d visited every nook and cranny of Mill Grange manor, bar her room, which she’d claimed to be locked and victim to a lost key. Two hours had passed in a blur of ideas, appreciation and suggestions concerning how to get the best from each room on the smallest possible budget.

  After such a productive tour, it had seemed natural to offer Shaun coffee while they’d swapped restoration ideas. Mill Grange had looked different as she’d seen it through his eyes. The sense that saving the house was perhaps possible after all had wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

  ‘No wonder he’s so good at bringing historical sites across on the television.’ Thea double-checked for stray animals in the gorse at the side of the road as she negotiated a hairpin bend. ‘If only he could stay as some sort of private advisor rather than an onsite volunteer.’

  When the time had come to turn down Shaun’s offer of help, she hadn’t been able to do it. It would have been like punching a kitten, albeit a six-foot-four kitten with gangly limbs and large clear hazelnut eyes.

  *

  Thea’s phone burst into life as she pulled her Mini into a miraculously empty parking space on the outskirts of Taunton, only a few minutes’ walk from the trustees’ office. Not recognising the number, she answered with a cautious, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Thea, forgive the interruption when I know you’re busy. I wanted to thank you for showing me round last night.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Shaun.’ Thea started to search in the glove compartment, hoping she had enough change for the parking meter. ‘Thank you for all your ideas and insight.’

  ‘Are you alright? You sound a bit muffled.’

  ‘I’m in my car. I have a meeting with the trustees this morning. You caught me fishing for parking money.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Ah?’ Thea cupped her loose change in her palm, hoping it would be enough. ‘What do you mean, ah?’

  ‘That’s the other reason I was phoning.’ Sounding uneasy, Shaun said, ‘I was so enthralled last night that I got wrapped up in hearing your hopes for the place… I really can see it all restored to its former glory.’

  Nausea rose in Thea’s stomach. ‘What is it you are calling to tell me?’

  ‘I rang the Exmoor Heritage Trust people. I didn’t want to be more trouble than I was worth. The last thing the house needs is a load of autograph-hunters crowding the place, when all you want is eager helpers.’

  Thea felt a renewed hit of guilt at her earlier assumption that Shaun would crave the presence of his fans. ‘I have to admit, as I said last night, somewhat clumsily, as much as we would love your help—’

  ‘Absolutely. I get it. My agent told Mabel that I would only come as a volunteer if I could work quietly without fuss.’

  ‘She didn’t tell me that.’ Thea closed her eyes and leant against the headrest. ‘I’m beginning to wonder what else I haven’t been told.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Again with the “Ah”?’ Thea checked her wristwatch. There were ten minutes until she was due to see Malcolm.

  ‘I think you’ll need to prepare yourself.’ Shaun sighed.

  ‘Please Shaun, you’re freaking me out.’

  ‘The trustees let it slip this morning, in confidence, that the house is likely to go up for sale.’

  ‘I see.’ Thea exhaled slowly.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Shaun rushed on, ‘but even if the worst ultimately happens, I’d still like to see Mill Grange restored. I know we didn’t get to see the mill building last night, but as I was driving to my accommodation I had a few ideas that might work for the old mill and—’

  ‘You did?’ Thea realised that once again her preconceptions about this man had been wrong. Despite his career, she’d pegged him as a ‘rip it out and put things in’ person. A moderniser rather than a restorer.

  ‘Would you like to hear them? I mean, if you’re free for dinner we could talk them over.’

  A picture of Becky’s tear-stained face flashed into Thea’s mind as her brain tried to work out if Shaun had just asked her for a date or for a work meeting. The former was defiantly out, the latter would have to be done discreetly or the whole world would know he was in town.

  ‘Well, I…’ Thea read the clock. Five minutes until the meeting. ‘Look, I have to go or I’m going to be late. Thanks for the warning, Shaun. I’ll be in touch about the volunteering.’

  Hanging up before he could reply, Thea knew she’d been rude not to answer his request for a discussion about the mill. Her insides lurched. ‘I’ve been angry and downright rude three times in two days. What’s happening to me?’

  Her head thudded and she grabbed her bag of notes and Tina’s accounts file. Having paid the exorbitant parking fee, Thea headed to the office to face another unwanted confrontation.

  *

  Malcolm passed her a steaming mug of coffee. ‘Tina told me that a strong black cuppa would be welcome, even if nothing else I have to tell you is.’

  Thea took the drink with a dip of acknowledgement. ‘Does that mean you are about to impart bad news?’

  Gesturing to the folder Thea had placed in front of her, Malcolm avoided the question by asking one of his own. ‘Are those the figures from Tina?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can I see?’

  ‘Of course.’ Thea knew Tina would have presented all the numbers in the best possible light.

  Malcolm opened the sheaf of paper to the summary page. ‘Tina is exceptionally good at her job.’

  ‘You sound surprised.’

  ‘I am, but not that Tina is so capable; she’s proved that time and time again. I’m surprised because these numbers are not as bleak as I’d expected.’

  Determined not let her professional demeanour slip, Thea asked, ‘Would you mind explaining what you mean? I’m not clear as to why I’m here. Is this to confirm the house is to be sold or to confirm that it isn’t?’

  Malcolm closed the folder. ‘As I said when we spoke, there was a mistake that was neither Tina’s nor yours. The funds to complete the restoration of Mill Grange are not as healthy as we believed.’

  ‘What happened to them?’

  ‘A misplaced decimal point on a spreadsheet.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’

  ‘I wish I was.’ Malcolm had the good grace to be embarrassed. ‘No one not
iced until a few days ago. By then all the calculations, which were wrong as a consequence of the original typo, had been made and the long-term plan for the restoration designed.’

  ‘But that was five years ago. Are you honestly telling me this clerical error has only just emerged?’

  ‘If it wasn’t for Tina’s eagle eye, and her sense that something was wrong, we may never have spotted it.’

  ‘Tina knew?’

  ‘That there was a mistake yes, that it affected Mill Grange, no.’ Malcolm pulled a piece of paper towards him and scribbled down some numbers. ‘She was doing a general stock-take for me. Thank goodness she did.’

  Thea massaged her temples. ‘So a mistake was made in the past. What does that mean for Mill Grange right now?’

  ‘That the budget you were given was twice as much as we have to give you.’

  ‘Twice!’ Thea felt faint.

  ‘As this was a mistake our end, we are prepared to pull resources from other projects to help bring up the figures, but this still leaves you about £40,000 short of what’s required to do a full restoration.’

  Thea gulped, burning her lip on her coffee cup as she did so. ‘You said Tina’s figures weren’t as bad as you’d thought.’

  ‘I need to examine these properly, but if they are feasible, she might have shaved that to a deficit of £35,000.’

  ‘Still a fortune.’

  ‘Hence the need to sell.’

  ‘What do the original owners think about this?’

  ‘They washed their hands of the house years ago. It’s a money pit.’

  ‘So it will be sold despite everyone’s hard work?’

  ‘Unless you can get it finished under budget and on time, then yes.’ Malcolm pushed back his seat and stretched out his legs, as if relieved he’d got the sharing of bad news over with. ‘For a start, rather than holding the Open Day as a free event, you could sell tickets, plus find ways of making the manor to start paying for itself straight away… and even then…’