by Jenny Kane
‘Twice. I even got Shaun to tell her. She tends to listen to him more than me.’
‘He’s a bloke.’ Sam shrugged. ‘It’s a generation thing. She can’t help it.’
‘I know. Doesn’t stop it being damn annoying though.’
‘True.’ Sam pointed to the cockerel as he paraded across the coop as if he not only owned the place, but that he occupied the penthouse. ‘Tony is on fine strutting form this morning.’
‘I bet Mabel would believe him if he could talk.’
‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised.’ Sam turned from the chickens and pointed towards the greenhouse. ‘Tina tells me the men are coming to pull that down tomorrow.’
‘Yes.’
‘You don’t want them to, do you?’
Thea pushed her jumper sleeves up past the elbow in the morning sunshine. ‘I can’t help but imagine how it used to be. Oranges growing in large terracotta pots. Grape vines lining the wall of the garden, nurtured by the sun and protected from the winds and frost. Exotic flowers brought back from the Victorian residents’ Grand Tour expeditions.’
‘Shaun didn’t mention you were a romantic.’
‘I’m not. I just wish I could save the greenhouse.’
Sam gestured to the empty wheelbarrow parked by the space where the main entrance to the greenhouse had once been. ‘We finished clearing the broken glass yesterday. Another couple of hours and it should be clear of rubble and rubbish.’
‘Just in time for the men to make even more mess tomorrow.’ Thea stretched her arms out in front of her, flexing them towards the sunshine. ‘I sound defeatist, don’t I?’
‘A bit, but it’s hardly surprising.’ Sam was quiet for a moment before asking, ‘Where’s Shaun this morning?’
‘On his way to Taunton.’
‘He’s going to tackle the trustees about the sale?’ Sam’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Do you think he can persuade them to stop them going ahead?’
‘No. We talked it over last night.’ Thea sighed. ‘In fact, we’ve talked about little else for the past few weeks. If it isn’t, “when will John turn up”, it’s “can the Trust be persuaded to find funds from elsewhere to save this place?”’
‘But you’ve decided that he shouldn’t bring the subject of the sale up while he’s there?’
‘Shaun’s mate, Richard – the guy that saved the table – wants to film some of the furniture for a side feature of an episode of Landscape Treasures. The filming fee would help us big time. I’m not sure it will be enough to prevent the sale, but it would help.’
‘And being able to say “as featured on Landscape Treasures” in future marketing and souvenir guides won’t hurt either.’
‘Fingers crossed they see it like that.’
‘I can’t imagine they won’t. This is the sort of publicity most stately homes can only dream of.’
‘That’s what we’re banking on.’
‘Yet you don’t sound convinced.’ Sam kept his eyes on the dilapidated greenhouse.
‘I’m not hopeful. This house could make money, it could bring in a reasonable monthly rent from three independent sources at the mill, and there’s no reason why the gardens can’t go some way to pay for their own upkeep. We have school trips, WI and U3A visits tentatively booked in for the whole of next spring and summer, not to mention that the village fete committee is keen to start up where it left off before the house went to the Trust, but they’re still considering selling it. Tina’s convinced there’s some underlying reason for the proposed sale that we don’t know about. If there is, then it might take more than a TV appearance to save us.’
‘I take it you haven’t spoken to Mabel about any of this, or Tina’s suspicions?’
‘I tried, but she told me I was being negative.’ Thea looked up into the clear blue sky. ‘I rather hope she’s right.’
*
Mabel pursed her lips and crossed her arms as she stood in the doorway to the final bedroom on the attic corridor.
The bed was unkempt with only a token gesture made towards the covers being folded back to air the crumpled sheets below.
A heap of clothes overflowed from a large carrier bag in the far corner of the room, and an open rucksack revealed a mess of jumpers – jumpers she recognised as belonging to Thea Thomas.
Having decided that Thea was wrong about leaving the attics for so long, especially as the Trust had specially requested that they be included in the restoration, Mabel had taken matters into her own hands. Armed with her clipboard, pen and a large feather duster to bat away any lurking spiders, she’d moved from room to room making notes on the extent of mould, dust and damage to window sills, with a mind to assessing the size of the job in hand.
‘So, young lady, this is why you didn’t want to tackle the attics.’ Not wishing to view Thea’s pile of laundry any longer, Mabel closed the bedroom door with a crisp click and an accompanying tut.
Her hand was still on the door when her mind switched from wondering how long Thea had been living at the manor in secret, to whether Shaun knew she was there. Or, worse, had she arrived because Shaun was there. Maybe Thea wasn’t sleeping in this room, but merely storing her things there.
Appalled at the idea that the man she admired so much would be living in sin with Thea, Mabel considered going down to the room Shaun was renting to see if there were signs of Thea there too, but she decided against it. She didn’t want to see. Instead, she decided to talk to them both together. This might be modern times, but this was not a modern house, nor was it their house. They had no right whatsoever to use it like some rent-by-the-hour hotel!
Disappointed in Shaun and feeling the sense of respect she’d had for Thea slipping away, Mabel marched towards the scullery to make her views on the subject plain. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Tina pass the hall window, and Mabel rushed outside.
‘Did you know? Did you?’
Taking a step back in alarm at Mabel’s raised voice, Tina asked, ‘Did I know what?’
Mabel looked around her, suddenly aware she was close to shouting, and perhaps didn’t want everyone to know what she’d discovered. ‘Don’t play innocent with me.’ Her words hissed through her teeth. ‘She’s your best friend, of course you knew.’
Guessing that Mabel had discovered Thea’s living quarters, Tina mentally crossed her fingers it was the room in the attic she’d been nosing around in, rather than Shaun’s bedroom. Grating the mud off her boots on the scraper by the front door, Tina felt cross and defensive on her friend’s behalf.
‘If you are referring to the fact Thea has been staying in the attic for a while, then yes, I did know.’
Mabel opened her mouth to protest further, but Tina hadn’t finished.
‘Thea wants this place to work, Mabel. How else would she be here so early and work so late? And where is there for her to live locally anyway? The rental prices in Upwich are extortionate and there aren’t many of them. Isn’t it better that she pays the Trust a rent she can afford? Every extra hour she’s here improves the chances of this place not being sold. Since Thea learnt the attics were going to be converted she’d been trying to find somewhere to live. But what with the Trust still being vague on the sale of the house, not to mention John…’
The minute she’d mentioned the name John, Tina could have bitten her tongue off.
Mabel didn’t hesitate, and pounced on the chance to find out more about Thea’s relationship with John. ‘What about John?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Tina tried to change the subject. ‘The point is, if the manor does get sold, Thea doesn’t want the Trust or anyone locally for that matter, to think it was because of any shortcomings on her front. She is lodging here so that not a single hour of the working day is wasted!’
*
‘Yes, sir, I’m sure she would.’ John wiped a few dots of perspiration from his brow as he took the call from the managing director of Sure Digital. ‘But as I’ve explained, she travels a lot, so my wife may
not be able… Yes sir, of course I understand. Yes, yes… of course. The figures have been done. They will be in your inbox by tomorrow morning. Absolutely, I’m looking forward to it too. Goodbye, sir.’
John pushed his back tighter against the opposite side of the porch as he listened. He thought he’d heard someone walking towards him, but now there was nothing. He must have imagined it.
He licked his lips as he stared up at the stag’s head above the door. Its hollow eyes seemed to look right into his soul.
Today had been the day he was going to sort things out with Thea. He’d already been there for hours, watching and waiting for Sam to get up from his pathetic little tent and go into the woods for his morning walk. He’d waited for Shaun to leave the premises and for Thea to arrive.
He thought somehow he’d missed her arrival. But he hadn’t. She’d never been going to arrive, because she hadn’t been anywhere but here.
Thea had been sleeping in the attics.
A sense of relief filled John. She wasn’t sleeping with the archaeologist. Thea had a room in the attic.
Sliding back into the shadow of the porch, John barely dared breathe. He felt as if he was outside of himself watching a stranger, who looked just like him, acting in a way he never would.
He, John Davies-Sommers, didn’t do things like this. He didn’t send fake texts or spy on women. That’s what failures did, and he wasn’t a failure.
If she’d just let me explain, I could have gone home by now!
John glanced back up at the stag. ‘You failed, but I’m not going to.’
Thirty-Three
June 1st
Thea took a step back to examine the door that had once formed Mill Grange’s servants’ link from the kitchen corridor to the outside world, and admired her handiwork.
Working the runny preserving oil into the grain of the wood had been satisfying and therapeutic, as well as essential. The liquid had absorbed into the surface so fast Thea could have sworn she’d heard the wood sighing with relief after years of dehydration. It had been good to do something that required no thought beyond the rhythmical circling of a cloth.
She’d just laid down the tin of oil and was scrubbing pointlessly at the pattern of dotted brown splodges that now adorned her jumper, when Shaun’s car turned into the drive behind her. Noting the grim set to his face, Thea brushed her dirty hands down her thighs and went to greet him. ‘They said no to the television appearance, didn’t they?’
‘Yes and no. It is dependent on the decision to sell.’ Paying no attention to Thea’s grubby state, Shaun wrapped her in his arms as he explained how he’d underlined how much the Trust would get paid, how good the publicity would be and how, as they already had a trained historian on site, they wouldn’t have to employ someone to oversee the filming on their behalf. But they hadn’t budged. No decisions were being made about the future of the manor until they’ve had a meeting about selling, or not.
From the cocoon of Shaun’s side, Thea asked, ‘And did they tell you when the meeting is going to be?’
‘Today.’ Shaun looked at his watch. ‘Now.’
‘Oh my God!’ Thea’s breath hitched in her throat as she broke free from his arms. ‘Today?’
‘You might want to stay in the office so that when the verdict comes you’re in the right part of the manor to receive the call.’
Thea nodded. ‘Tina thinks the Trust’s up to something. This behaviour is so out of character; Malcolm isn’t usually anything but crystal-clear in his instructions apparently.’
‘She may be right.’
Returning her attention to Shaun, Thea took his hand. ‘Did Malcolm say something then?’
‘Not as such. I don’t know Malcolm, but I could tell he wasn’t comfortable with the non-answers he was giving me.’ Shaun registered his girlfriend’s sticky jumper and hands as he accidentally brushed against a blob of sealant on her sleeve. ‘You’ve been keeping busy then.’
She gestured half-heartedly to the pristine servants’ door. ‘For what it’s worth.’
‘Don’t give up, love.’
‘Come on Shaun, I’m not stupid. They’re going to sell. I just wish I knew why.’
Wishing he could argue, but suspecting Thea was right, Shaun stroked a hand through her hair. ‘Well, we can’t do anything until we know the outcome of the meeting. The income from the filming might be the ammunition we needed to tip the balance in Mill Grange’s favour.’
‘Let’s hope so.’ Thea kissed his cheek. ‘Thanks for trying. I think I’ll go and change. If I’m going to face the firing squad, I think I’d like to do it without looking like a sticky scarecrow.’
*
‘And the verdict?’ Sam paused in the process of tightening the hinges of the gate that divided the walled garden from its main counterpart.
‘The Trust is in discussion about the sale now.’
Giving the gate an experimental swing, to make sure it was hanging level after years of being cockeyed in its settings, Sam said, ‘Let me guess. They withheld a discussion about the filming pending a decision.’
‘You are quoting them almost word for word.’ Shaun glanced up at the attic window where Thea would be changing. ‘I think I’d like to be with Thea when the call comes through.’
‘Quite right.’ Sam pocketed his screwdriver. ‘But before you go, could I show you something?’
‘Thea’s changing her clothes, so I’ve only got five minutes. That girl doesn’t hang about on the clothes front.’
‘It’ll only take two.’ Sam gestured towards the rough slope of land between the back of the garden and the woods.
*
With every step towards the little attic room she’d called home for the past three months, Thea felt increasingly incensed at the Trust’s behaviour towards her, and more importantly, towards her volunteers.
The creak of each stair seemed to echo her thoughts and imprint images of the work her team had done at the manor. She could see Derek and Sam battling against the broken window pulley. Diane, doing her best to clear out the stables, despite her hatred of spiders. Bill and Derek, laughing with the students from Exeter University, as they piled branches and brambles onto the latest bonfire. Tina handing out slices of lemon cake during her early attempts to gain the volunteers’ support. And Mabel… Mabel, both the bane of Thea’s life and Mill Grange’s saviour. Thea knew the manor and mill house would never be as advanced in its restoration without Mabel’s unstoppable gusto. At least nothing stank of vinegar anymore.
Reaching her room, Thea sat on the bed and rested her head in her hands. Mabel was going to take this news harder than anyone.
It might not be sold.
The voice of hope that Thea had been so determined to keep hold of since Tina accidentally discovered the possibility of the manor being put on the market, was becoming fainter by the minute. Peeling off her jumper, she threw it into the corner to join the others. She had hardly anything left to wear that wasn’t coated in some sort of paint or grime. Cross with herself for living in such a mess, Thea muttered, ‘I might as well be back on excavation after all.’
Picturing Malcolm and their fellow trustees sitting around a table playing God with the manor’s fate, Thea moved to the window. She could see Shaun and Sam walking up from the woods, deep in conversation.
Relieved that Shaun was softening the blow for Sam, who despite having never progressed further into the manor than the bathroom nearest the back door, held an obvious affection for the place, Thea closed her eyes.
‘There must be something I can do. Something I haven’t contemplated yet, that can stop the Trust selling. There must be…’
‘Maybe there is.’
Thea swung around, her heart thumping in her chest. Her mouth went dry, while her brain screamed accusations at her for not paying attention to who might be lurking in the other rooms as she’d come up the stairs. ‘John.’
‘You were expecting someone taller? Someone who must have enough
money to buy this place for you?’
Thea turned back to the window. There was no one in sight; not even a rogue student with an armful of brambles for burning. ‘What do you want John?’
‘I want to talk to you, just like I wanted to talk to you when I booked the meal at the pub.’ John crossed his arms over his chest, a determined smile set on his chiselled features.
‘Go away, John.’
‘Not until you’ve heard me out.’
Thea’s mind raced as she stared at John. It hadn’t crossed her mind that Shaun could buy the house. Surely television presenters weren’t paid that well. And even if they were, she’d never ask him to buy the manor in a million years. They’d only been together for two minutes. If they’d been married fifty years, she’d still never have asked. ‘Have you any idea how pathetic you look standing there like a Bond villain? Surely you see that you’re being here is pointless.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’
Thea was amazed at how steady she was managing to keep her voice. ‘If you’re about to threaten me with outing the fact that Shaun is staying here, then you’re too late. People already know. And if you’re going to start yelling the news that I’m lodging here too, then I hope you have fun doing so. In fact, it would save me a job, as I intended to tell everyone at tomorrow’s staff meeting.’
John’s eyes narrowed. ‘If there really was a staff meeting tomorrow, I would have been invited to it.’
‘No you wouldn’t. You haven’t done any work here for weeks. Your safety check has expired.’ Thea kept talking, hoping he’d believe her lie. ‘Hanging around the village and generally making people wonder what you’re up to is not helping your cause. All you’ve done is create suspicion. Even Mabel is beginning to wonder what you’re up to.’
John didn’t even blink. ‘There isn’t a meeting tomorrow, is there?’
‘There is.’ Thea grabbed the nearest semi-clean jumper from the chair and tugged it over her head. ‘Why are you still here? Do I really need to tell you again what a fool you’re making of yourself?’