by Jenny Kane
‘How is Frank?’
‘Miserable as ever.’ Bea grinned as they went under cover. ‘I swear he only stays on as gardener because he enjoys moaning about the work so much.’
Tina gave Sam a sideways glance, checking he was alright as they reached the marquee. It was enclosed on three sides, and although the open side ran for four metres, she knew it was a big deal for him to step inside.
Staying by the entrance, Sam pointed to a pile of blankets balanced on the end of a large trestle table. ‘Extra covering in case Jack Frost strikes an early blow for winter?’
Bea laughed. ‘More like blankets for those of us with old bones and a touch of arthritis.’
‘Oh, Mum, I’m so sorry. If you need to go inside you must and—’
Placing a finger on her son’s lips, Bea shook her head. ‘Do I look like I’m suffering?’
‘No. You look as amazing as ever.’
‘Then stop with the guilt.’ With a flourish of her skirt, Lady Malvern patted the seat next to her. ‘I want to hear about everything, Sam.’
‘Everything is a big subject.’
‘Then we’d better have a cup of tea.’ She turned to Tina with a wink. ‘And cake. Tea and cake always help when the subject is as big as “everything” don’t you think?’
‘Always.’ Relieved that they’d got this far without Sam bolting, Tina asked, ‘Would you like me to go inside and fetch some?’
‘That’s kind, but I’m a fortunate woman. I have help waiting for word to serve.’
Sam’s jaw dropped when his mother pulled a mobile from her jacket pocket, and started to send a text. ‘Blimey! I was expecting you to ring that old bell you used to use to call Sarah.’
‘Got to move with the times.’ Bea sent her text message and laughed at Sam’s stunned expression. ‘Anyway, Sarah retired years back. We had Dotty, but she finished her PhD and headed off to be a lecturer in Art History last year. We have Karen now. She’s doing a doctorate as well. Physics.’
Seeing Tina’s surprise, Bea explained, ‘I like to employ staff who wish to earn while they get on with improving their lives; post-graduates mostly. There’s plenty of space and time for them to study in between their duties, and our wages pay for them to live without adding to their student debts. We don’t charge rent. It’s a good arrangement for them in return for cooking breakfast, lunch, and the occasional cake or three.’
As a young woman in ripped jeans and an oversized T-shirt appeared from the nearest door, a tray in her hands, Tina said, ‘I can see where Sam gets his desire to help others from. What a fabulous idea.’
‘Again, you’re kind, but we do very well out of the arrangement.’
Sam, who was becoming more gobsmacked by the moment, couldn’t prevent the question that was racing up his throat. ‘Father is okay with this?’
Tina admired the antique tea set, complete with Victorian sugar tongs and paper-thin china cups and saucers as Bea replied with practised calm. ‘The house staff are my responsibility.’ Then, arranging the cups ready to pour the tea, she changed the subject. ‘So, Tina, tell me all about yourself.’
Thirty-Nine
September 24th
Lady Malvern was clapping her hands together and laughing as Tina finished telling her about the Mill Grange chickens.
‘You must think me quite mad, but I have a dear friend called Gertrude and she has one almighty crush on Robert Downey Junior. I can’t wait to tell her that she shares a name with one of your hens and your rooster is called Tony Stark.’
After her initial alarm at being invited to talk about herself, Tina had started to relax, and now, two cups of tea and a slice of the best fruit cake she’d ever tasted later, she found herself giggling alongside her boyfriend’s mother. ‘Sam and I built the coop together. It was one of the things that brought us together.’
While Sam kept one eye on the back door of the house, half hoping his father wouldn’t appear, and half hoping he would so they could get the inevitable showdown over with, he said, ‘Those chickens have an awful lot to answer for.’
‘They sound delightful.’ Bea tilted her head towards her son, her hair hanging over half her face. ‘And you, Sam? How are you?’
Taking Tina’s hand, Sam opened his phone. ‘I’m good thanks. Not “cured,” as father would put it, but better than I was thanks to Tina, Thea, Shaun, and all our other friends at Mill Grange.’
‘I’m thrilled to hear that.’ Bea winked at Tina. ‘Every man needs a good woman.’
Pressing a few buttons on his phone, Sam passed it to his mum. ‘Would you like to see some pictures of Mill Grange?’
Taking the phone, Lady Malvern scrolled through a few shots of the outside of the house. ‘I saw a few photographs in the brochure, the one that named you as the new owner, but I have to say, they didn’t do it justice.’
Tina was about to retrieve her phone from her handbag to show Bea pictures of the inside of the manor, when the sound of footsteps across the gravel path made them all look up.
‘Ah.’ Bea stood up as her husband approached. ‘Tina, let me introduce you to the Earl of Malvern. Charles, this is Miss Tina Martin.’
Not sure if she was supposed to curtsey, bow, shake hands, or do none of the above, Tina felt as if the sun had gone behind a storm cloud. The air changed from friendly to potentially hostile as the earl gave a curt nod in her direction. Tina held her breath as she waited for Sam to speak.
‘Father, it’s good to see you.’
‘Indeed.’
The earl didn’t say anything else as he sat on the opposite side of the table, waiting for his wife to pour his tea. Tina couldn’t work out why such a free spirit as Lady Malvern was married to this stuffy man in a clichéd three-piece suit and burgundy silk tie. Everything about him was stiff.
Passing her husband his tea, Bea said, ‘Sam was showing me photographs of Mill Grange. It looks wonderful.’
‘I’m impressed you invested in property, son. Have you seen inside your home yet?’
The temperature dropped further as Sam responded with a brittle, ‘I have. Video links are wonderful things.’
Tina winced inside. It was like watching two stags sizing each other up before a fight.
‘Are you telling us you haven’t stepped inside the manor you have purchased?’ The earl tutted into his tea. ‘How do you propose to run the place if you can’t adopt a hands-on management technique?’
Biting her lip, stopping herself from answering on Sam’s behalf, Tina observed Lady Malvern. She appeared resigned but resolute, as if she hadn’t yet given up hope of a reconciliation.
‘Sam has employees of course. Good people by the sounds of it. And I believe you have been inside the manor, haven’t you, Sam?’
‘I suppose you’ve been having therapy?’ The earl grunted, as if therapy was akin to gun running.
Tina opened her mouth to respond, but Sam put his hand out. ‘As it happens, Father, I have been getting help. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’
Before Tina realised what was happening, Sam had picked up two empty cups and was walking at high speed towards the kitchen. Seconds later he went through the back door, disappearing from the view of his gobsmacked family.
For a second Tina exchanged a shocked look with Lady Malvern, before, with a muttered apology, she got up and walked towards the house. It took a massive effort of will not to run, but she didn’t want Lord Malvern to think she was worried about Sam coping inside, even though she was.
He can go inside! He never said.
Looking around, finding herself in a short corridor and then a huge kitchen, Tina almost bumped into Sam. He was sweating and his hands were shaking, but he was there, catching his breath as he rested against the kitchen door, having already left the china by the sink.
‘Sam?’
‘Surprise!’ His smile was shaky, but the relief in his eyes was huge. ‘Did he see me? Did Father see me come in?’
‘You know he did. We all did.’
Tina wrapped her arms around him. ‘When did you learn…? I mean, how did you do that?’
‘Bert.’ Sam licked his dry lips. ‘I’ll tell you everything, but outside.’
*
Back in the marquee, Tina placed a hand on Sam’s knee, pinning him in place as she addressed his father. ‘Lord Malvern, Sam’s just told me he has been having in-depth training to get him inside, albeit for short bursts at a time. I think you should know about the man helping Sam. He isn’t the sort of person you’re imagining. In fairness, I don’t imagine any therapists are as you’re assuming them to be. Bert certainly does not fit the mould.’
Ignoring her husband’s elongated puff of dismissal, Bea leant forward. ‘I’m so proud of you, Sam, and I’d love to hear about Bert. The name suggests an elderly gentleman?’
Tina gave Lady Malvern a grateful smile. ‘He’s in his eighties, but with the spirit of a twenty-year-old. Possibly the kindest man I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet.’
‘Does he live at Mill Grange too?’
‘No, he’s in the village. Upwich. He and his wife Mabel have been good friends to us since Thea – she’s the house’s co-manager – took over the property’s restoration last March. Mabel is something of a village stalwart. She helps with our meal preparation now.’
Bea beamed. ‘She sounds wonderful. Like an elderly Mrs Beeton.’
‘She is a bit.’ Tina risked a glimpse at Sam, who was still in the process of mastering his breathing. ‘Bert was in the forces too. He was involved in an incident that resulted in a severe fear of confinement, to the extent that they had to build a wet room in their home with a door leading into the garden.’
Tina felt Lord Malvern’s eyes on her as she kept speaking. ‘Bert has worked his whole life to overcome his fear. He came from a time when backbone was the thing. Any show of weakness was considered failure. Thankfully we know better these days.’
Shifting his chair closer to Tina, Sam put an arm around her and took over the story. ‘Traditional therapy has been good, but only goes so far. Bert has taken me under his wing. He’s teaching me the small steps he took to conquer his fear.’
‘Yet he still has an emergency exit from his bathroom!’ The earl had the air of someone who was trying to hold on to his argument, simply for the sake of it.
Sam sucked in a patience-grabbing breath. ‘Because while it is there, he doesn’t need it. It is the knowing it’s there that counts.’
Lady Malvern pointedly removed her husband’s teacup. ‘I think Bert sounds fantastic. Please thank him for us. We appreciate what he’s doing for you, Sam. Don’t we, Charles?’
Lord Malvern grunted as the refilled cup was passed back. ‘He’s very kind I’m sure.’
Sam’s eyebrows rose so high that Tina thought they might shoot off his head. ‘I didn’t tell you about Bert helping before because I wanted it to be a surprise, Tina. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not!’ Tina felt the tension in her shoulders ease. I should never have assumed he wasn’t trying to overcome his fear. Sure Sam would appreciate not being the centre of attention for a while, Tina screwed up her courage and said, ‘You have a beautiful home here. Sam tells me it’s Queen Anne.’
‘It is.’ Bea lowered her cup. ‘Would you like a tour?’
Tina was halfway through saying she’d like that very much, when she realised it would mean leaving Sam alone with his father, and backtracked. ‘I couldn’t possibly impose. You’ve already been such a kind hostess.’
‘Nonsense. That was just a snack to keep us going. We’ll need a walk or you won’t have room for Karen’s lunch.’
As Bea got up, Charles raised his cup to his lips and took a sip. ‘I don’t know why she wants to study physics when she’d be a brilliant housekeeper.’
Lady Malvern rolled her eyes, but there was an affectionate lilt to her tone as she said, ‘I know you don’t, dear, that’s the problem.’ Getting to her feet, beckoning Tina to come with her, the countess gave her husband and son an equally stern glare. ‘If you two can manage not to squabble before we get back, we’d both be very much obliged.’
*
Tina stood in the vast marble-lined hallway, not sure where to look first. In the very centre, a staircase of highly polished mahogany sat, with doors – presumably leading into a variety of small rooms – opening off the hallway and upper gallery around it.
‘It’s breath-taking.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’ Bea gazed up the stairs. ‘I’m never sure if I do or not. I’m continually impressed by it of course, but I’ve never warmed to it.’
Surprised, Tina asked, ‘If planning permission allowed, would you change it?’
‘I’d make the hall smaller. Divide it into rooms. Many other houses of this period have been split up like that. As you can imagine, this space costs a fortune to heat. I’m constantly guilt-ridden by how much we are costing the environment in this bit of the house alone.’
Liking Lady Malvern even more by the minute, as they walked up the staircase into a world of silver-white marble and landscape paintings, Tina shyly asked, ‘Do you think they will be alright out there?’
*
‘Which family does your young woman come from?’
Sam groaned. ‘Why do you have to say it like that? You know they won’t be landed, and therefore not good enough for you.’
‘I was merely being civil.’
‘No, Father, you were being condescending.’ Sam flexed his legs. ‘However, just so you don’t say something to upset Tina, I’ll tell you that her parents passed away when she was in her teens.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Are you? Well that’s a first.’
Letting out a hiss of a sigh, Lord Malvern got to his feet. ‘Can I show you something?’
Sam followed his father away from the house towards the walled garden. Following in his father’s footsteps, Sam noticed how much slower he walked these days. In fact, now Sam looked properly, he noticed that Lord Malvern wasn’t as square-shouldered or upright as he remembered.
With a jolt, Sam realised his father was getting old. Objectively, he knew he was in his late seventies, but Sam had never associated ageing with his formidable parent. He moved to his father’s side, instinct telling him he might have to support his arm if he tripped. The concept of the daunting Lord Malvern being enfeebled filled Sam with a mixture of horror and regret. He didn’t like the old man much, but he couldn’t help loving him.
‘There.’ Lord Malvern opened the gate to the walled garden and pointed to an orangery that ran along the far wall. ‘What do you think?’
Sam was astounded. The last time he’d been in this part of the gardens, it had been little more than a glorified allotment with a bare wall and a heap of wasted opportunities. ‘It’s beautiful. It’s so in keeping.’
The earl’s stature relaxed a fraction as his son strode ahead, making for the right-hand side of the structure. It was largely glass, made up of eight large picture windows, joined together by wrought-iron frames and supported on a low red-brick wall. It would take an expert eye to know it wasn’t an original Edwardian construction.
Sam ran a hand along the first piece of iron work he came to. It was exquisite. Looking through the glass, he could see rows of terracotta pots containing lemon and orange plants. There were grape vines climbing the original wall at the back of the structure, and a neat line of raised beds had been fixed to the nearer side of the greenhouse; perfect for any plant to catch the sun’s rays as they reflected through the glass.
‘When did you this get done? It’s wonderful.’
‘Last year.’ Lord Malvern kept his eyes on the orangery. ‘Your mother always wanted one.’
Sam wasn’t sure how to respond to this evidence that his father could behave like a normal human being. There was no doubt this was a labour of love.
Not sure if he would be scorned, but taking the chance anyway, Sam pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled thro
ugh his photographs until he found shots of Mill Grange’s dilapidated greenhouse.
‘I aim to do this up. It’s one of the projects I want my guests to help with. First though, I need to get advice on the best techniques and materials. I got a quote to have it restored professionally, but it was rather more than I wish to pay out. And after the fire at the mill—’
‘A fire?’ The earl broke through Sam’s words. ‘You’re alright? Tina and your friends are alright?’
‘Yes.’ Sam found his mouth opening and closing, before saying, ‘Tina and Thea got trapped in the old mill as it went up in flames. We lost the mill, but my friend Shaun and I got the girls out.’
Gesturing to a bench at the side of the garden, Lord Malvern sat down heavily. ‘Did you go into the mill to get them out?’
‘With Shaun.’
‘You went into a burning building to rescue someone? Again.’
‘Yes.’
The earl was quiet for a long time before he asked, ‘Will you tell me about your plans for Mill Grange, Sam?’
Forty
September 24th
Having finally managed to convince Sophie that a moment’s embarrassment wasn’t the end of the world, Thea had got her charge halfway to the dig site before she suddenly stopped walking.
‘I promise, Sophie, they all think you’ve been ill. You’ve nothing to worry about.’
‘No, it’s not that.’ Putting her hand in her pocket and, checking to make sure no one else was watching, Sophie sheepishly produced a mobile. ‘It’s Shaun’s. I found it.’
Thea felt her palms prickle. ‘Found it?’
Sophie shuffled her feet. ‘Yeah.’
‘Where?’
‘The pub.’ Averting her eyes from Thea, Sophie mumbled, ‘I was going to give it back in the café, but I never got the chance.’
Thea stared at the phone in her hand. ‘Are you sure you didn’t pick it up off the pub table and pocket it?’
