by Jenny Kane
Thea held up a hand. ‘Malcolm, are you asking me to carry on with my job, or saying that we should just tidy Mill Grange up enough for it to get the best market price? If that’s the case, I can’t, in all conscience expect people to continue to volunteer.’
‘I’m saying that I’d like you to do everything you can to make this work. That I’d like to stand there with my fellow trustees on 21st July and watch Shaun Cowlson cut the ribbon before Mill Grange opens to the public.
‘But if the house isn’t ready and hasn’t passed the relevant health and safety checks, it will have to be sold. And even then, it still might be… the mill may have to be sold as a separate building anyway.’
Feeling as though her brain was on a go slow, Thea dealt with one crumb of bad news at a time.
‘Definitely the 21st July not the 4th August?’
Malcolm lost his previous apologetic tone. ‘I was assured by Mrs Hastings that you were capable of getting the manor ready by then so that Mr Cowlson could open it for you. This would, as you can appreciate, take a little of the financial pressure off as well. Fourteen days less to pay for.’
‘You mean fourteen days less for you to pay my wages, don’t you?’
Thirteen
April 9th
Turning her car into the Tarr Steps car park, Thea kept her hand on the steering wheel and the engine running, unsure if she was parking or pausing.
Exmoor stretched out in every direction. Greens and rusty bronzes vied for her attention with splotches of purple heather and blackened gorse. Erratic boulders and clumps of trees spotted the landscape with accompanying random dots of cotton-wool sheep by their sides. For once there were no other cars, no cyclists and no walkers to spoil the view. It was as if she was the only person left in the world.
Suddenly desperate to delay her return to Mill Grange in favour of uninterrupted time to think, Thea kicked off her ankle boots, reached for her faithful walking shoes and took a lungful of fresh air. She felt as if she’d run a marathon rather than been sitting in an office with her employer.
On leaving Bath the previous month, a trip to see Exmoor’s most famous clapper bridge had been something she’d promised herself as compensation for leaving so much of her favourite history behind. But life at Mill Grange had been so hectic that a trip to the Tarr Steps had remained a dream.
Now she was here, Thea’s rising guilt at not having contacted Tina the minute she’d left the Trust’s office had reached un-ignorable proportions. By the time she reached a visitor board displaying the walking routes available, any chance of a relaxed stroll had evaporated.
Retrieving her mobile from the back pocket of her jeans, Thea was about to press Tina’s number when she registered both her lack of signal and the time. It was almost one o’clock, but she didn’t feel hungry. Her appetite had died with every word Malcolm had spoken.
Tracing a wistful finger along the shortest walk on the board, she told it, ‘I’ll just take ten minutes to say hello to the bridge today. I’ll come back for a proper walk soon.’
With each clump of her boots towards the bridge, the image of Malcolm’s increasingly furrowed forehead grew stronger in her mind, dissolving Thea’s hope of a few minutes to clear her head.
It hadn’t been until Mabel had called Malcolm in the midst of their meeting, to apologise for her error, telling him she’d been swept up in the excitement of her favourite celebrity being available for the opening, that the frosty atmosphere had started to thaw.
Amazed that Mabel had swallowed her pride and done the decent thing, it had still been hard for Thea to hear Malcolm suggest that she’d been holding out on the trustees. Had she and Tina, he wanted to know, been demanding more time than was needed to get the place ready? They were old friends after all, and could have colluded to get as much out of the Trust as possible. The accusation had hurt Thea far more than she would ever admit. She would never tell Tina.
In the end Malcolm had apologised for his suggestion, mumbling about being embarrassed about their financial error and conceding he’d overreacted. He’d also, after a few sips of coffee, accepted that it was in character for Mabel to ride roughshod over common sense in order to get something she wanted. But it hadn’t changed a thing. In all likelihood the Open Day would have had to be brought forward a week or two anyway in an attempt to preserve funds, with or without Mabel’s interference. At least Malcolm had been pleased about them being able to charge extra for the event’s tickets now Shaun Cowlson was to be there, signing autographs and maybe giving a talk.
‘I suppose that’s something else I’ll have to organise?’ Thea told a pheasant as it hurtled across her path.
Although she wasn’t sure how she felt about Shaun being a fixture of the team, Thea was absolutely certain what Mabel’s reaction would be. It would be considered a victory for her interference. ‘She’ll be worse than ever.’
Glad no one was around to hear her talking to herself, digging her hands into her jacket pockets, Thea attempted to order the crisis into a solvable situation. ‘Problem one: it is physically impossible to do what needs to be done in the time given within the budget we have.’
It didn’t feel any better saying it aloud.
‘Problem two: if I can’t achieve a solution to problem one then I’m unemployed.’ Thea’s sigh turned into a contradictory cry of delight as, turning the corner, she found herself standing before the Tarr Steps clapper bridge for the first time. Its sheer simplicity took her breath away.
The un-mortared gritstone slabs that formed the bridge’s platform were bigger than she’d expected. Thea couldn’t imagine how they’d been positioned in place, let alone how such heavy weights had been successfully shifted by floodwater on more than one occasion. Today, the River Barle sauntered serenely beneath the slabs as if it has never caused a moment’s trouble in its long existence.
Widely believed to have been in use from prehistoric times, Thea knew the stone bridge as it stood now had certainly been there at least since the medieval period. There was something magical about it. The Tarr Steps sat and waited for history to flow around it.
Walking reverently to the start of the fifty-five-metre water crossing, Thea, with a self-conscious glance to make sure no one was watching, crouched on her denim-covered knees onto the smooth stone. ‘You’ve sat here and survived so much. A storm destroys you and you’re rebuilt, a war comes and you patiently wait it out, plague arrives and you wash it away. You were here while Mill Grange was built, while it was used and when it emptied again.’
Trailing her fingers across the somehow exaggerated warmth of the weathered bridge, Thea closed her eyes as the spring breeze kissed her face. ‘Any inspiration you could give me right now would be welcome.’
*
Backing her Mini into her usual space on the drive, Thea was in time to see Sam leaving the butler’s pantry, a fearsome-looking sickle in one hand and a sack in the other.
‘Disposing of a body?’
‘Any particular corpse you have in mind?’ A gentle grin played at Sam’s lips. ‘I have something to show you if you have time? I think it’ll make you happy.’
‘Anything that has the capacity to make me smile is always welcome.’ Thea followed their latest volunteer, glad of having a reason to put off talking to Mabel.
Sam lapsed into the silence that he seemed to prefer until they reached the hinterland between the garden and woods; a tangle of brambles, fallen branches, leaves and weeds.
‘Here, where the garden slopes into the wood.’ He indicated a metre square area he’d cleared to what would have been grass level if the grass had had enough light to grow. ‘I’m sure this must have formed part of a path, well, more of a walkway really, which led around the whole garden. Somewhere the ladies of the house could perambulate with friends.’
Dropping down so that her eyes could run the line of the path Sam was indicating with a gesture of his hands, Thea nodded. ‘You’re right. I have the original garden plan on my de
sk which has a path sketched onto it, but to say it is vague understates it. It also predates the actual construction of the garden, so it is impossible to know what was completed and what wasn’t.’
‘Are there no mentions of the path in the house documents?’
‘There are, but the precise location isn’t stated, although it seems logical to assume it spans the outer edge of the garden.’ Thea felt a sense of satisfaction she’d feared would elude her at Mill Grange. ‘Do you have archaeological or landscaping experience?’
‘No. I just like stately homes and gardening. I’ve seen such paths before.’
Mentally plotting out where the path might come out on the other side of the house, Thea was delighted. ‘Sam, you have no idea how timely your discovery is. Thank you.’
Without looking at her, he asked, ‘You’ve been to the trustees?’
‘Yes.’ Thea kicked a stray stone into the woods. ‘I owe you an apology. You’d only been here two minutes before witnessing me ranting at the volunteers. I can assure you that is not something I make a habit of.’
‘I know. Tina delivered some tea an hour back.’ Sam pointed to the drained mug. ‘She explained the situation.’ Crouching down, he stuffed handfuls of cut back brambles into a sack. ‘Do we still have a manor to restore?’
‘For now.’
‘That was neither a yes nor a no.’
‘Which is as good as it gets.’ Thea looked up towards the manor. ‘I would completely understand if you changed your mind about helping here.’
Sam carried on with filling the hessian sack. ‘Am I right in assuming that money, or lack of, is at the root of this?’
‘That’s the main problem, with lack of time coming a very close second.’ Thea could see Mabel moving around behind the drawing room window. She couldn’t see Diane. ‘I’m going to call an emergency meeting in the kitchen this evening. I was going to have one anyway, but now it’s more urgent. Will you be able to come?’
Sam hesitated. ‘Um, no I don’t think I can. Sorry.’
‘Not to worry. I appreciate it’s rather last minute.’ Thea tugged at the end of her disintegrating ponytail. ‘I’m sorry, Sam. I didn’t even ask where you were staying.’
‘Oh, not far away.’ He followed Thea’s eye line up to where the sun was reflecting off the manor’s window panes. ‘You’re not going to quit though.’ It was spoken as a statement rather than a question.
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Good. This place deserves more respect than that.’
Surprised by Sam’s determined tone, Thea turned so she faced the woods. ‘I’ve just been to the Tarr Steps. I know I shouldn’t have taken the time out, but I needed space to think.’
‘Always sensible.’ Sam regarded the full sack of discarded undergrowth with approval. ‘One of my favourite places in the whole world.’
The way Sam spoke suggested that he had seen plenty of the world to compare Exmoor’s clapper bridge to. ‘You’re well-travelled?’
‘I used to make Michael Palin look as if he wasn’t trying.’
Thea was curious to know more about Sam’s adventures, but his expression held up a subject closed sign so she changed the subject. ‘I’d better get on.’
As she took a step towards the manor, Sam said, ‘Did you know local folklore insists the clapper bridge was built by the Devil?’
‘Really?’
‘The tale goes that the Devil vowed to kill anyone who tried to cross his bridge in either direction. Nervous, the local population, who obviously wanted to use the bridge as they were tired of wading across the water, sent a cat across the stones. As the cat set a paw on the bridge it vanished in front of their very eyes.’
Thea laughed. ‘A black cat presumably?’
‘I have no hearsay on that.’ Sam tied the sack shut. ‘After the cat’s abrupt demise, a parson was sent over – willingly or unwillingly, I couldn’t say. He met with Satan in the middle of the bridge, and although he threatened and abused the parson with evil words, the churchman stood firm. Eventually the Devil gave in and allowed the local population to cross his bridge.’
‘I rather love that.’ Thea laughed. ‘No wonder I saw no cats down there this morning. They’re probably scared of being vaporised.’
‘I take it the Devil wasn’t sunbathing either?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘The tale ends with Satan adding a condition to the use of his bridge. Should he wish to sunbathe on the bridge, then no one should attempt to cross or disturb him as he relaxes.’
‘You’re joking?’
‘Nope. It’s a clause that stands to this day, so you take care next time you go thinking down by the Barle. The last thing Mill Grange needs is its esteemed leader being turned into a puff of atoms by a tan-seeking demon.’
‘Right now, being vaporised feels like the easiest option.’ Thea’s laugh quickly curtailed as she considered the conversation she needed to have with Mabel.
‘If you wanted an easy life you’d never have taken this job.’ Sam spoke with a confidence in her that was both touching and disconcerting.
Thea strode back to the house, having decided not to tell Sam that she’d only taken the job because she was hoping for exactly that. Or at least, a career where she could get on with her work without worrying about her ex-boyfriend popping by every five minutes.
Fourteen
April 9th
Tina watched Sam working from the scullery window. Every now and then he flashed out of view, as he carried bundles of cut branches and brambles to the other end of the garden to be burnt later.
There was a self-contained air to the volunteer gardener which Tina couldn’t put her finger on. She’d have said it was a contentedness, but somehow that didn’t sit right with a man who still hadn’t set foot across the threshold of the manor.
Her mind flicked to Leon. No wonder Sam had flitted through her mind while she’d sat in the restaurant last night. He was Leon’s polar opposite. Un-groomed and uncaring as to the opinion of the world on the subject. Sam just was. I bet he wouldn’t see using a dating site as failure.
*
Sneaking into the scullery via the back door, so she lessened the chances of encountering Mabel, Thea was relieved to find Tina there.
‘Thanks for taking Sam out for a cuppa this morning. He clearly appreciated it.’
Her habitual smile strained, Tina pushed thoughts of her non-date from her mind and got straight to the point. ‘What did Malcolm say? Did my accounts help?’
Thea’s eyes fell on a note on her desk in Mabel’s wobbly script. ‘We have another volunteer?’
‘What?’ Tina tucked a stray blonde hair behind her ear. ‘Oh yes. A bloke turned up to enquire about helping shortly after you’d left. Mabel gave him the tour as I wasn’t here.’
‘One thing less for us to do I suppose. Hope he’s not too old to swing an axe. The rotten trees at the back of the drive need clearing before they fall on someone’s car.’
‘Sod that! What did Malcolm say? Come on Thea, I’m worried sick here.’
‘I think we’re going to need coffee for this one.’ Taking off her smart jacket and top, Thea put on the oversized chunky jumper that hung across her chair and immediately felt more herself.
There was no trace of a smile on Tina’s expression now. ‘We’re screwed, aren’t we?’
‘Unless you came across someone in Upwich this morning with an ability to freeze time, then it isn’t looking great. Your figures were good. They did help, but…’
‘Too little too late?’
‘It was all I could do to convince Malcolm that we hadn’t been lying about needing more money and time than we’d claimed after his conversation with Mabel and her conviction we could be ready to open on 21st July.’
‘Oh hell.’ Tina followed Thea to the kitchen, her need for caffeine accelerating.
‘As it happens, it made no difference that Mabel interfered. The trustees are on the defensive. That financial co
ck-up you uncovered means we were about to have our work time shortened anyway. Ironically Mabel may have done us a favour by bringing the issue to light earlier rather than later.’
‘But we’re still to keep going? Malcolm didn’t mention selling?’
‘I’m afraid he did. We have to make Mill Grange pay for itself as soon as we can. We also have to start selling Open Day tickets. Preferably by yesterday. And even then, the house may well be sold.’
‘That must mean we’re to go ahead with the restoration for now then.’ Tina took her coffee cup and held it like a talisman. ‘Thank God we have Shaun then.’
‘Assuming we still do.’
‘What do you mean? Didn’t the tour go well last night?’
Thea hooked the biscuit tin under her arm and grabbed her mug as they returned to the privacy of the scullery. ‘It went well. Shaun loved the place.’
‘So, what’s the problem?’
‘Problems. Plural.’ Thea dunked a chocolate digestive into her mug. ‘He’s a television personality. If the call comes from his production team, whether his intentions to help are pure or not, then he’ll be off in a puff of smoke. A bit like the cat on the clapper bridge.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Ask Sam next time you take him tea.’
Tina rolled her eyes. ‘You wouldn’t be trying to matchmake in the middle of a crisis would you?’
‘Light relief.’
Her smile restored, Tina took a cookie from the tin. ‘Have you spoken to Sam today?’
‘I caught him in the drive just now. He’s found the start of the old walkway the Victorian ladies would have strolled around. Isn’t that great?!’
Tina gave a thumbs up as she crunched her cookie.