Autumn Leaves at Mill Grange

by Jenny Kane

Gripping the pint of beer she didn’t want, but had ordered because everyone else had one, Sophie felt her insides twist into a knot. ‘I hadn’t realised Shaun was attached.’

  Andy lowered his eyes, trying not to laugh at her obvious disappointment. ‘Oh yes. She’s an archaeologist too. Lovely girl.’

  ‘Oh. I’ve never seen her mentioned in the magazines.’ Sophie’s forehead crinkled into two neat parallel lines.

  ‘Magazines?’ The AA regarded each other, puzzled.

  ‘You know, Chat, Hello! and all those. Shaun’s famous and handsome. If he had someone in his life, they’d be all over him like scarlet fever.’

  Managing not to choke on his final chip, Ajay laughed. ‘That’s not Shaun’s style at all. He hates the whole celeb thing.’

  Andy studied Sophie more shrewdly. ‘You do know that the majority of the people featured in those magazines approach them first. Then they demand a criminal amount of money for the privilege. Shaun’s a private person; and Thea even more so.’

  Sophie took a tentative sip of her drink to avoid the expressions of the men before her. She wasn’t sure if she could read scorn, pity, or both on their features. The pint of Tribute beer wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. ‘Why isn’t she here? Isn’t Thea good enough an archaeologist to be on the Landscape Treasures team?’

  Ajay snorted. ‘Far from it. Thea is one of the country’s leading experts on Roman Britain. She has her own career helping to run a Victorian manor and its associated rare excavation site on Exmoor.’

  ‘Oh.’ Not sure what else to say, suddenly conscious of making a fool of herself, Sophie got back up, and headed towards the team she’d been working with all afternoon.

  Andy and Ajay watched her go. Neither of them said anything, until Phil sat back with them, four pints on a tray. ‘What was that about? Not more trouble for the site I hope?’

  ‘For the site no; for Shaun, quite possibly.’ Andy picked up a pint. ‘Cheers, Phil.’

  ‘Why’s that then?’ The producer and director wiped a beer moustache from his upper lip as he contemplated getting up again and ordering some food.

  ‘Looks like our resident expert has the hots for our leading man.’

  ‘You’re imagining things.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Ajay had found the situation amusing at first, but now he wasn’t so sure. ‘Seems Sophie believed Shaun was single because he hasn’t appeared as part of a couple in any celebrity magazines.’

  Andy glanced over at Shaun. He was laughing at something Thea was saying down the line. ‘Should we warn him do you think?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know.’ Ajay frowned.

  ‘Celebrity magazines!’ Phil groaned. ‘I thought she was a fan of the show? She must know this isn’t reality TV in the popular sense of the term.’

  Ajay glanced over to where Sophie was chatting with the dig team. Every so often her eyes would veer to Shaun and then back again. I think I’d better keep an eye on that young lady, he thought.

  Seven

  September 3rd

  Tina had been longing to spend the night in a proper bed for weeks. Now she was in one, she’d hardly slept a wink.

  After checking the time on her mobile, she closed her eyes. It was just past four o’clock in the morning. Time’s wingèd chariot had clearly got a puncture in one of its tyres.

  Staring at the ceiling, she pictured Sam snuggled up in his sleeping bag outside. Had he opened hers out as well, covering himself with it as an extra layer? Did he miss the warmth she provided? Perhaps he was sleeping soundly, and wasn’t missing her at all. Maybe he’d only liked her being there because she kept the tent toastier. Was she no more to him than an animated draught excluder?

  Holding her pillow over her head, Tina groaned. She knew she was being unfair. Sam never saw her as anything other than who she was. So when he’d told her yesterday that he considered Mill Grange theirs rather than his, he’d meant it. And when Sam had talked about them being a couple for as long as Bert and Mabel, he’d also meant it. And then she’d gone and ruined it.

  Feeling tears start to soak into the cotton of the pillowcase, Tina flung it to the side and took a deep breath. Sam hadn’t reappeared from wherever he’d gone for the rest of the day. When it had come time for the evening meal, Thea had wrapped him a plate of stew in several layers of tin foil and put it in the empty tent.

  ‘You tried to do a good thing, and if Sam ever lets you explain the whole story, he’ll see that too. You haven’t damaged the manor, destroyed the business or endangered a life.’ Tina’s words sounded hollow as they bounced off the walls of the attic room which, although technically her allotted bedroom, she’d only slept in once before. The majority of the possessions she’d brought with her from the house-share in Taunton remained piled up along the walls. Only three suitcases of clothes were open, her outfits piled, semi-neatly, inside; the cases’ lids sat propped against the wall’s lightly floral wallpaper.

  ‘Perhaps it all happened too soon for us? Maybe I should have stayed in Taunton and driven across each day and…’

  Her words disappeared into a tissue as she gave her nose a blow, before wiping her eyes.

  ‘If Sam…’ Taking another shuddering breath, Tina flung back the bedcovers and placed her feet on the carpet. ‘If Sam won’t let me explain, and can’t see that my actions came from a good place, then he isn’t the man I thought he was anyway.’

  Clenching her lips together, determined not to cry anymore, Tina tugged on a pair of socks. It had been odd lying in bed with just one pair of pyjamas on and no socks at all. Now she was up, however, the chill of the house quickly invaded her bones, and she was reminded of how early it was. The heating wasn’t due to come on until six, and even then, it took a while for the whole manor to feel the benefit.

  ‘You know Sam came back to the tent last night because Thea saw him crossing the garden at nine, so he’s safe. And as this is his house, then I don’t have to worry about him packing up his tent and disappearing for good.’

  Pulling on yesterday’s clothes and an additional thick woollen jumper from the nearest suitcase, Tina scrubbed at her eyes one more time.

  ‘Wash face. Clean teeth. Head to kitchen. Make coffee. Make lemon cake.’

  Repeating the instructions like a mantra, she crept along the corridor so she didn’t wake Thea in the next room, Tina completed her ablutions as fast as she could with the freezing water, and fled towards the ever-present heat of the kitchen’s Aga.

  *

  There was something soothing about adding eggs, sugar and flour together in the mixing bowl, along with a hefty helping of butter and a splash of milk. Tina went through her lemon-cake-making ritual with the confidence of someone who knew, whatever else she messed up in her life, she’d always be able to bake.

  Pausing to grate the rind from a lemon, and then deciding to throw some orange peel into the mix as well for variety, Tina contemplated the available baking tin options – two sponge tins for a sandwich cake, a loaf tin, or a square tin for a slab cake. She knew it wasn’t important, but if she focused all her energy on culinary issues, then perhaps reality could be suspended for a little longer.

  Opting for the sandwich cake option, so that she’d have to spend additional time making both a filling and a frosting, Tina played butter cream flavours around in her mind while she licked the tiny blobs of cake mixture that still remained on the spoon.

  ‘Caught you in the act of illicit cake making!’ Thea came in, her hands full of unwashed coffee mugs. ‘I know! I’m a mug thief. I’m always forgetting to bring my evening cuppa mug down in the morning. Before I’ve noticed it, half of Mill Grange’s mug collection had emigrated to the attic.’

  Tina smiled despite herself. ‘Give them here then. I’ll sling them in the dishwasher along with as much of the rest of this stuff as I can fit in. I’ll still have to wash the mixing bowl and spoon in the sink though.’

  Thea pointed to the clean ones hanging on hooks around the wall
. ‘Shall we get two more mugs dirty while we work?’

  Tina clicked on the kettle before plunging her hands into the freshly run washing-up water. ‘What are you doing up so early? I didn’t wake you, did I?’

  ‘I was thinking about the excavation. Couldn’t turn my brain off.’ Thea noticed the heavy shadows under Tina’s eyes, denoting she’d also had a more serious lack of sleep. ‘You were worrying about Sam.’

  ‘Lemon cake felt like the only positive thing I could do.’ Tina pointed towards the Aga door. ‘I was driving myself mad lying there thinking about Sam; wondering if we have a future together or not.’

  ‘You should have come in to talk to me. I wouldn’t have minded.’

  ‘I know, but being cried over in the middle of the night can become dull very quickly.’ Tina wrinkled her nose. ‘Thanks though.’

  ‘Sam hasn’t gone anywhere you know. He just isn’t used to being helped.’

  Tina wiped the wooden spoon beneath the soapy water. ‘I was thinking about what you said about him being so used to secrets and coping alone. And you’re right.’

  ‘You’ll have to go and talk to him about it.’

  ‘I will.’ Tina stood a little taller as she plunged her hands back into the soapy water. ‘Eventually. But I’m going to leave him to think for a while first.’

  ‘In the hope he’ll work out why you’re upset all by himself?’

  ‘Partly, but mostly because he and I happened so fast. It’s only been a few months since Sam arrived at Mill Grange to help restore the place. Then, suddenly, the house was being sold and he bought it. In that time, we got together and you and I almost died in a fire, and then the Roman site got found and now, only a few weeks later, we’re working like stink to get this place open for paying guests by October. Is it all too much too soon? Sam needs space, and I suspect he feels hemmed in.’

  Passing Tina a towel to dry her wet hands, Thea regarded her friend with respect. ‘You might be right, but don’t wait too long. It’s wise to give him space, but I know you, you’ll nag away at yourself until you’re sure that you and Sam are okay.’

  ‘True.’ Sagging onto the nearest chair, Tina inhaled the aroma of almost-cooked sponge. ‘In the meantime, I’ll work on enlarging my waistline. Isn’t that what women are supposed to do when they’re having a romantic crisis?’

  ‘I believe that, in such circumstances, the cliché follows that the consumption of large amounts of ice cream or chocolate is vital. Or, in extreme cases, chocolate ice cream.’

  ‘Well, as we don’t have either of those things handy, it’ll have to be hot lemon cake with lemon and orange frosting.’

  Thea’s eyes lit up. ‘You’re making frosting?’

  ‘Extreme circumstances call for extreme amounts of sugar.’

  *

  ‘Are you alright, Sam mate? You sound half asleep.’

  ‘Hey, Shaun.’ Sam squinted at the screen of his tablet, glad Shaun hadn’t activated Skype’s video link option. ‘That’s because I am. Bad night.’ He hauled himself up so he was sitting, while remaining snuggled inside his sleeping bag. ‘How can I help?’

  ‘I’m hoping it’ll be the other way around.’

  Something about the excitement in Shaun’s tone woke Sam up. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You know, ages ago, we talked about Mill Grange being featured on the show, but then dismissed the idea as pie in the sky? Well, I’ve had a chat with Phil, our producer, and he’s spoken to the money men, who have spoken to the channel’s schedulers, who have agreed that, providing we can fit it in during this season’s allotted filming time, we could come to you and do a Christmas special.’

  ‘That’s fantastic.’ Sam pulled a jumper over his head, trapping his ponytail between it and his T-shirt to keep his neck warm. ‘The publicity would be fantastic! And to be aired so soon after we open would be amazing.’

  ‘Do you have many bookings yet?’

  ‘Some, but so far not enough to do more than pay bills as they come in. If the boiler dies or something else goes wrong, there’s nothing left over to pay for it to be fixed.’

  ‘Then we must make extra sure we get done here on time.’ Sam could hear the sound of Shaun rustling paper down the line. ‘If all goes to plan, we’ll be with you from the 1st to the 4th of October. Later than that, and we’ll not have time to do the film properly, and the producer won’t go forward with it. So, I’m not promising the filming will happen, but there’s a good chance.’

  ‘But now you’ve got a Christmas television slot, won’t you have to fill it whatever happens?’

  ‘Phil would put together a “Best of” type show instead. Much cheaper and only takes a few days to sort out.’

  Sam tugged on his boots. ‘Does Thea know yet?’

  ‘She knew it was on my mind, but when we spoke, I hadn’t got the go-ahead from Phil on “if time allows” basis. I thought I ought to check with you, as the owner of the property, before I told Thea, in case you didn’t fancy it.’

  ‘Of course I do. An episode of Landscape Treasures is free advertising forever! I know how often the show gets repeated!’

  ‘Excellent.’ Now you’ve said yes, I can give Phil the official thumbs up.’ Shaun seemed to lose a fraction of his bounce. ‘I’d best get on. The lady of the manor has put a heap of conditions on our dig here, and her daughter isn’t exactly helping.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I’d love to tell you, mate, but trust me: it’s a story best told over a pint in the Stag and Hound!’

  Eight

  September 4th

  Thea turned away from her computer monitor and then looked back again. She hadn’t imagined it. There really were twenty-three emails awaiting her attention, all of which had subject headings that included a variation on the words ‘Rare Roman Find Enquiry’.

  Opening the first message, from a sender she didn’t recognise, Thea’s jaw dropped. It was an invitation to be interviewed by Current Archaeology magazine on how the site was found and its potential importance to the canon of knowledge pertaining to the Roman occupation in the south-west of Britain.

  She picked up her phone to call Shaun. Current Archaeology was about as good as it got in commercial magazine terms, but something stopped her. Instead she flagged the email for her attention and opened the next one. It was a request from the Exmoor Archaeological Society to run a day visit for its members.

  Making a note of the group’s contact name and number, Thea opened the next email and exhaled a sigh of relief that she hadn’t realised she’d been suppressing. The archaeology unit at Exeter University would be delighted to use the site as a training dig for six of its students. They’d also be pleased to loan Mill Grange a number of basic essentials, from trowels to buckets, find sieves and tape measures, for the duration of their time on site.

  ‘We have diggers!’ Thea closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of her chair. ‘With the students making a start, and then Shaun joining us once his filming schedule has ended, this might just work.’

  She badly wanted to discuss things with Shaun, to know how far he wanted the dig to have progressed before he arrived, not to mention to hear his advice on which of the many offers of article coverage she should go for, if not all of them. She didn’t though. Any interruption during the working day had the potential to slow his schedule, and if that happened, they wouldn’t make it to Mill Grange. That was an opportunity she did not want to jeopardise.

  Thea was about to go and find Sam to share the good news, when another email arrived at the top of the page. Her hand hovered over the open button as she read and reread the subject line. “Offer to film – Treasure Hunters.”

  Feeling disloyal to Shaun, Thea took a deep breath and read on.

  *

  Tina sat in the café, her laptop open, an empty latte glass at her side. It had been several weeks since she’d visited the Exmoor Trust’s head office in Taunton. Having popped in to collect some financial records t
o check over, she’d decided to work in the nearest coffee shop with free Wi-Fi before heading home.

  She’d justified not going straight back to Mill Grange by telling herself that, as local car parking was so expensive, she should use all of the parking time she’d paid for. She was absolutely not avoiding going back because Sam still hadn’t spoken to her.

  Unable to concentrate on the spreadsheet before her, Tina watched out of the window. The sun was trying to push through the covering of cloud. A few hardy types were wandering through the busy shopping centre wearing T-shirts and no jumpers, and a courier was unloading a van on the roadside opposite wearing nothing but shorts and a tank top. She shivered at the thought as she crossed her legs tighter under the table. Even after sleeping inside, Tina didn’t feel properly warm. It was as if the chill of all the nights she’d spent outside had invaded her bones and decided to take up permanent residence.

  Picking up the empty cup, Tina cradled it, soaking up the fading traces of warmth as her eyes landed on her bag. As she’d passed the main door at Mill Grange that morning, the post had arrived, including another letter addressed to Sam in his mother’s distinctive handwriting. Panicked by its arrival, she’d stuffed it into her bag unopened. She could almost hear it shouting at her. I don’t belong to you!

  Getting up order a new drink, Tina checked her watch. There was time to do one set of account checks and then go back. I’ll give Sam the letter. I’ll apologise again, and then that’s it. It’s up to him. It is Friday today. If he doesn’t speak to me by Monday, I’m leaving.

  Refusing to let the tears that prickled at the backs of her eyes to fall, with her decision made, she sat back down with a chair-cushioned thump and began to work.

  *

  ‘A considerable sum.’ Thea repeated the sentence as Betty and Gertrude peered up at her, feigning interest in her latest dilemma. ‘A considerable sum in excess of five thousand pounds – that’s what the email said. I call anything over five grand a fortune!’