Autumn Leaves at Mill Grange

by Jenny Kane

  ‘Not this time, Mabel, but that is going to happen, plus vegans, folk with food allergies. It’ll all come our way. Is that going to be alright?’

  Mabel sat herself upright. ‘It’ll be a challenge, but I could do with knowing before the guests come if they have dietary requirements.’

  ‘Never fear.’ Tina dipped some thickly buttered bread into her stew. ‘It’s all on the application forms. When you need to know about dietary changes from the norm, I’ll tell you at least a week in advance.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Mabel finally tasted her own cooking, before showing her approval.

  ‘So are you ready for tomorrow?’ Bert passed Sam a bottle of beer.

  ‘As we can be. The new chickens are in and checking out the joint, the manor is spotless, Mabel has the food in hand, and the dig has been covered with protective tarpaulin while we wait to hear from Shaun about filming.’

  Thea’s phone burst into life in her pocket. ‘Talking of which.’ Putting down her almost empty dinner, Thea raised an apologetic hand before wandering into the house and huddling down by the Aga.

  ‘Hi, Shaun, how’s it going?’

  ‘Are you sure you want to know?’

  ‘That bad?’

  ‘The JCB broke and we’re having to open the trenches by hand. Just teething troubles, but frustrating nonetheless. At least the lady of the manor has left us alone to crack on now we’ve agreed to only have three trenches and cover everything back up afterwards.’

  ‘You’re not too far behind though, are you?’ Thea hoped she didn’t seem too desperate.

  ‘Nothing we can’t claw back. Luckily Sophie, that’s Lady Hammett’s daughter, is proving a bit of a star when it comes to digging, which will help. How about your end? First guests tomorrow, isn’t it?’

  ‘Sure is. We’re ready for them, but I’m still nervous.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to being back there to see the place in action; and you obviously.’ He sighed. ‘I wish you were here. I could do with your company as well as your expertise.’

  ‘I wish I was too.’ Thea wrapped an arm around her chest. It felt ages since he’d cuddled her. ‘I have news from this end.’

  ‘What’s that then?’

  Thea could hear the sound of a pint hitting a table. ‘Are you in the pub with the others?’

  ‘Yes and no. I’m in the pub; the others aren’t all here yet. We’ve got a few minutes.’

  ‘Right, well try not to react too openly to this.’

  Edgy suddenly, Shaun said, ‘Go on then.’

  ‘We’ve been approached by Treasure Hunters. They want to film here.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’ Shaun got up and walked as far away from the bar as possible. ‘How did they hear about it?’

  ‘I have no idea. We haven’t gone public on the site yet.’ Thea was relieved he sounded more surprised than angry. ‘For now Sam has told them that you’d offered first, but that it was subject to timings. You will make it, won’t you?’

  Twelve

  September 7th

  Tina felt embarrassed, and because no one else seemed to be, she felt awkward as well, as she followed Ann, Woody and Dave into Mill Grange’s drawing room.

  Until she’d seen the people carrier, which had delivered them to the house from Tiverton Parkway station, creep up the narrow, sloped driveway that led from the road to the back of Mill Grange, Tina hadn’t realised how nervous she was at the prospect of sharing her new home with strangers.

  Ann’s exclamations of how beautiful everything was as they strolled through the large double oak doors into the porch, with its original Victorian coat stand and iron boot scrapers, continued as she admired the collection of paintings along the corridor’s walls. Her appreciation of the sweep of the wooden staircase (which Tina had to admit was looking magnificent) was almost lost amid the teasing of the men, who were telling Ann she was born to be a lady of the manor rather than ‘Lady Bomb’.

  ‘Lady Bomb?’ Tina muttered to Sam through the video link on the tablet screen she carried, so he could virtually join them inside the manor.

  Sam said nothing, but mimed the explosion of a bomb with his hands and a suitably expressive face.

  ‘Bomb disposal?’ she mouthed as they all settled onto the comfortable sofas and armchairs at the corner of the room. Sam nodded as the screen went blank and he disconnected the link, only to appear outside an open window, so he could be part of the group.

  ‘Tea, coffee? Something stronger?’ Tina was relieved to be able to fall into hostess mode, as requests for three large builder’s teas came her way.

  As she headed along the square-tiled corridor to the kitchen, Tina could hear laughter behind her, as their guests teased Sam for being outside. She’d never heard anyone make light of his problem before. He didn’t seem to mind, but she felt put out on his behalf anyway.

  Tina was glad to find Thea at the sink, scrubbing mud from her fingers with the help of a scouring pad and a generous squeeze of washing-up liquid.

  ‘I saw the people carrier arrive. What are they like?’

  ‘They laugh a lot.’

  Thea’s eyebrows rose at Tina’s tone. ‘Isn’t that a good thing?’

  ‘Well yes, of course it is, but… I don’t know what I was expecting to be honest.’

  ‘I take it Sam still hasn’t told you what happened to make them come out of service?’

  ‘No, like I said, he thinks everyone should have the right to tell their own story, and I totally agree with that. It’s just – I don’t know. Suddenly the atmosphere’s wrong.’

  ‘Because we don’t know what brought them here?’

  Tina took a tray from a rack in the corner and loaded it with mugs. ‘Not really, it’s more that I can’t shake the notion that we’re using them. These people have done things we’ll never know about, to keep people safe somewhere, and here we are using them as lab rats for a recovery retreat.’

  Loving her friend for her concern, Thea gave up trying to remove the final layer of ingrained dirt and dried her hands. ‘If they were insulted by the prospect, then they wouldn’t have come.’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘And you said they were laughing; so they are obviously friendly.’

  ‘Yes, but they tease each other. I hate teasing – you know that. It makes me uncomfortable.’ Tina threw six teabags into an industrial-sized pot. ‘I hadn’t considered that side of it; the joking and private camaraderie. I already feel in the way. And what will happen if they fall out? If there’s a row, I’ll automatically think it’s my fault, because I always think rows are my fault, and that will create an atmosphere and…’

  ‘They won’t row, and if they do, it won’t be anything to do with what you have, or haven’t, done.’ Suspecting she might feel the same about the teasing, and hoping it wouldn’t show, Thea stuck another mug on the tray. ‘I’ll come with you. I ought to say hello, and as tempting as it is to get back to digging the new veg garden, the late British summer has decided it’s had enough for this afternoon and has gone to bed early.’

  ‘Raining?’ Tina turned to look out of the window behind her, just as large spots of water pattered against the panes. ‘That’s a shame. I thought I’d take everyone to meet the chickens.’

  ‘Hon, a bit of rain isn’t going to bother folk who have fought the Taliban.’

  ‘Good point, well made.’ Tina blushed at her naïveté. ‘Come on then, better bring biscuits. The big tin.’

  September 8th

  ‘Why Woody?’

  Tina felt herself starting to relax as she passed her companion a basket so he could help collect that morning’s eggs.

  Momentarily surprised, he tapped each leg with the basket, resulting in two dull thuds. ‘False legs. Not wooden of course, but “Prosthetic-ally” or “Metally” doesn’t have the same ring to it, and the services do like a nickname.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, I…’ Tina groaned. ‘It was a stupid question.’

  ‘Not at a
ll.’ Woody flexed his knees. ‘While Woody’s not exactly original, it could be a lot worse.’ Woody pointed to the cockerel. ‘How about that fine fellow? What’s his name?’

  ‘Tony Stark.’

  ‘Now that is a good name.’ Laughing, Woody turned so his back was resting against the coop fence; he stared up the slope of the garden towards the house, his expression telling Tina he approved of the scene. ‘What Sam’s doing here, it’s a good thing, you know. There aren’t many places like this. Hospitals yes, counsellors yes – although not enough. The majority of those poor devils are so overloaded with work that they need counselling themselves to cope with what they hear. But this is going to be something special.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘But you’re uncomfortable with us: myself, Ann and Dave I mean.’

  The statement, kindly spoken, had no judgement in it, yet Tina felt herself shrinking into herself. ‘I’m not, I’m… You’re all lovely and kind and I’m so glad you like the place but…’

  ‘Go on. I promise we’ll all have heard worse and survived.’

  Watching Gertrude, who was clucking encouragingly in her direction, Tina jumped on the opening Woody had given her. ‘That’s just it you see. You have survived so much worse. More than most human beings would be able to get their heads round. I can’t stop feeling we’re using you as an experiment here.’

  Woody looked amazed as he regarded his friend’s partner anxiously twirling her pigtails through her fingers. ‘I bet you did that at school when you had to do something you were nervous about.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The pigtail twisting.’

  ‘I did actually.’ Tina laughed. ‘Displacement probably. It drove my mum mad.’

  ‘Sam’s a lucky man to have you.’ Woody focused his eyes on Mill Grange as the rain clouds blew overhead and away across to the heart of the moor. ‘It takes guts to admit you’re uncomfortable. It takes guts to do something like this.’

  Tina noted an edge of sadness to Woody’s voice as he went on. ‘Sam asked us to come and help him out and we all said yes. He’s come so far from when we met him outside the rehab centre after our various… mishaps.’

  ‘Outside the centre?’ Tina asked. ‘He wouldn’t even go inside there?’

  ‘Couldn’t, rather than wouldn’t. It’s not so unusual. There was a large shelter in the gardens. Like a garage with no back or door. Sam and another guy, I forget his name, slept in there, in bunks.’

  ‘That’s a brilliant idea.’ Tina was already picturing where they could build such a shelter for future guests as she said, ‘I wondered how he’d managed back then, with going inside for therapy I mean. He doesn’t talk about it much.’

  ‘Why would he want to discuss the past when he has all this future to plan and enjoy? You can’t go back, Tina. If we could everyone would call me Will, not Woody.’

  ‘That’s your real name? I like it.’

  ‘Me too, but I’ve been Woody for so long now, that sometimes I forget.’

  ‘I’ll call you Will, if you’d prefer it?’

  Woody winked. ‘I would, but the others will take the piss.’ Seeing her wince at the thought, he added, ‘It’s not unkindness on their part, just a survival thing. Like you twisting your hair into knots. Fake names hide things.’ He paused. ‘You aren’t used to people teasing each other.’

  ‘Reminds me of being bullied at school.’ Not wanting to dwell on that, Tina gently asked, ‘What’s the other thing? You said you were here because Sam asked if you would test the place, but you implied there was another reason as well.’

  ‘Oh that’s easy, Tina. We need to be here. The initial help we had only went so far. There comes a point, once they’ve got you functioning on a basic level again, when the next poor bastard seeking help arrives on their to-do list, all beaten up and exhausted, and you’re left needing to find a reason for being. That’s what Sam is trying to help people find. A reason for getting out of bed every day. If I’d read about this place, Sam or no Sam, I’d have booked in for a week instantly.’

  Tina had no idea what to say; she felt humbled and heartbreakingly proud of Sam all at once.

  ‘Come on.’ Woody turned back to the coop, his tone reverting to its original lightness, as if he’d flicked some sort of internal switch to “get on with it” mode. ‘Which of these divine creatures is the fabled Gertrude?’

  ‘The one having a peck-off with the brown hen on the other side of the chicken wire. I think I’ll call her Mavis.’

  ‘What’s with the segregation?’

  ‘Mavis and her crew are new. The idea is that they can get used to each other without coming to blows. Apparently, it’s normal for them to squabble; they’re establishing a pecking order.’

  Woody grinned. ‘So that’s where that phrase comes from then.’

  ‘So the farmer who delivered them said. She also warned us that we may not see many eggs from the established brood while they adjust to each other.’ Tina bent down to peer inside the henhouse. ‘Looks like that’s the case. I can’t see any.’

  ‘No boiled eggs for breakfast then.’ Woody watched Tony Stark giving Mavis the eye from the safety of the henhouse.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ve plenty from yesterday. I’ll have to nip into the village and warn Sybil at the tea rooms that supplies will be low for a bit though.’

  ‘You supply the village?’

  ‘Just the tea rooms so far, but in time, hopefully we’ll sell to others as well.’

  ‘That’s brilliant.’ Woody waved to the hens as they left the coop. ‘I love a tea room.’

  ‘Maybe we could all go up for coffee and scones tomorrow.’

  ‘Depends what Sam has lined up for us.’ Woody massaged his stomach. ‘It also depends what dinner is like tonight. Mabel cooked up such a delicious feast last night I could hardly manage breakfast.’ He chuckled. ‘On the other hand, I see Ann is on the rota to cook later. Maybe you’d better book us in for a large fry-up and then afternoon tea as well.’

  Thirteen

  September 8th

  It had been a long time since driving a Land Rover had been practical, rather than just an act of owning and driving an object of her affection.

  Helen stroked the steering wheel, whispering a thank you to the ancient engine, as it effortlessly negotiated the thin twisting lanes that her phone insisted would take her up to Mill Grange. She could almost hear her vehicle taking deep breaths of country air after years of tootling through Bath City Centre.

  Hoping Thea wouldn’t be cross at her unheralded arrival, Helen slowed down. The sat nav was convinced she ought to turn right into the lane that led to Mill Grange, but she couldn’t see a right to turn into.

  Edging onwards, glad there was nothing behind her, and praying that a tractor didn’t decide to drive towards her from the opposite direction, Helen craned her neck, peering over the hedges that lined the fields on either side of the road. Having failed to see anything except the occasional pheasant and a herd of distant deer, Helen prayed for a lay-by to appear so she could pull in and consult the directions she’d written down in case the sat nav connection broke.

  ‘How can I lose an entire manor house?’

  A mile later, rather than discovering somewhere safe to pull over, the Land Rover reached a crossroads where the associated signpost suggested she turn either left or right to places she’d never heard of, which didn’t feature on her map at all. Determined not to panic, reminding herself that, when she’d been a practising archaeologist, getting lost down country lanes was all part of the adventure; Helen did a twenty-three-point turn.

  ‘Okay then, so if it was supposed to be on the right last time, now it’ll be on the left.’ Edging forwards, heading downhill, Helen was arrested by the stunning vista before her.

  From the opposite direction, all she’d seen was road and hedges, but now she found herself presented with a picture-book view of patchwork fields and copper-tinged woodland. The first lick of autumn was
in evidence, despite the warmth of the sunshine that reflected on her window screen. Helen marvelled at how some trees were already adorned with crisp brown leaves, ready to fall, whereas others were stoically clinging on to their greenery, determined not to relinquish their leaves until the last possible moment. The pine and conifer trees, liberally dotted between them all, looked smug and warm in their evergreen coats.

  ‘No wonder Thea decided not to come back to the Roman Baths.’ Dropping her speed to a crawl, Helen spotted a narrow driveway to the left. A faded wooden sign with “Mill Grange” engraved into it was propped against a stone wall.

  ‘How the hell did I miss that on the way up?’

  Turning gingerly into the driveway, Helen felt a tremor of excitement. It had been way too long since she’d seen Thea. She’d been so busy, that it was only when her former colleague had contacted her with queries about the fortlet that Helen realised how much she missed her.

  Muttering under her breath as she turned into the drive, thanking her ancient Land Rover for getting her there, Helen gasped in delight as, from behind a bank of trees, Mill Grange came into sight.

  *

  Tina watched from the kitchen window as Sam and their three guests assembled outside, backpacks on their shoulders.

  Establishing a quick pace, they were soon standing at the far edge of the garden, one step from the entrance to the woods that would take them on a downward path, through moss-covered woodland, down to the River Barle, beyond to the Tarr Steps, and on to the heart of Exmoor’s open ground of heather, gorse and grazing sheep and ponies.

  ‘I almost wish I was going with them.’ Tina picked up a bunch of carrots, waiting to be diced.

  ‘Only almost?’ Mabel was keeping her eyes on the bubbling stock on the hob that was finally doing what it was told. ‘It’s a beautiful morning. I’m sure the house could spare you for a while if you want to go to.’