Spring Blossoms at Mill Grange

by Jenny Kane

  Helen ruffled her curls from her eyes. ‘Hell! It is all so bloody cliché!’

  ‘Everything about love is.’

  ‘Love?’ Helen dismissed the notion. ‘I fancy him. Not the same thing. I’m sure if we could just be friends that—’

  ‘Friends with benefits? Is that what you want?’ Tina’s eyebrows rose as she picked her wine back up.

  ‘Best of both worlds.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I do say so.’ Helen wasn’t sure if she was as convinced by this argument as she sounded. ‘Tom is absolutely the last sort of man I should fall for.’

  ‘Because he has a past?’

  ‘More because I don’t. He has more baggage than a luggage shop, has fought with the army all over the world and has a son. I have a wide knowledge of Roman archaeology and can dig a decent hole.’

  *

  Sue was already waiting for Tom when he arrived at the Indian. Finding himself wondering if she was sat at the table he and Helen would have occupied if they’d come here together, Tom tried to rein in his thoughts.

  It wasn’t a date. Helen wanted to talk something work-ish through and you suggested a change of scene. That’s all.

  Sue’s hair wasn’t the same colour it had been on Monday. It was much quieter in tone now, a light brown rather than her usual jet black or bright pinks and purples. It was as if her hairstyle was reflecting the changes she was making in her life.

  Waving when she spotted him, Tom realised he hadn’t looked at Sue as anything other than someone who simply needed to be dealt with, an inconvenience on the way to his son, for years. He’d forgotten she was attractive, especially when she stopped trying to make herself look younger than she was.

  Tonight, her usual teen fashion style had been replaced by a smart shirt and jacket. Her makeup was more subtle, and her fingernails, currently curled around the menu, were a regular pink, not all the colours of the rainbow, with weird patterns on every other one.

  She’s made an effort.

  Tom looked down at his jeans and jumper. They were clean, but beyond that he’d made no effort. He thought about the shirt and new black jeans he’d been planning to wear if he’d come here with Helen. An image of him teasing out one of her long red curls, and watching it spring back into place filled his mind, only to be swept away as a waiter arrived with a bottle of alcohol-free lager and a menu.

  ‘I assumed that’s what you still drink when you’re driving.’ Sue flashed a smile.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ Tom glanced around at the pristine white table clothes and swan folded napkins. He suddenly wondered if Sue would expect him to pay for her meal. Helen he’d have paid for, if she’d let him, but Sue… I suppose I’ll pay for it somehow, whichever way we work it.

  ‘What do you think?’ Sue asked as she placed her menu open on the table.

  Not sure if she meant her appearance or the venue, Tom sat down. ‘Sorry Sue, what do I think about what?’

  ‘The restaurant. It’s nice, isn’t it?’

  ‘Very.’ Tom scanned his eye down the menu. ‘I’ve no idea what to have. It’s been years since I had anything I haven’t cooked myself, that wasn’t a takeaway or pub meal, or that Mabel or a guest cooked.’

  ‘Mabel?’ Sue’s tone was suddenly sharper.

  ‘The old lady I was waiting in for the groceries for the other day.’

  ‘Oh. Oh yes.’ Sue pointed at the menu. ‘I can recommend nearly everything in here. Especially the aloo puri for starter.’

  ‘You’ve been here before?’ He didn’t ask what he was thinking. How could you afford that?

  ‘It’s where we had our Christmas work do last year. And some of the girls have celebrated birthdays here.’

  ‘Oh right, yes of course.’

  ‘You look all put out.’ She fluttered her eyelashes at him. ‘You aren’t jealous are you, darling?’

  ‘Cut it out, Sue.’ He returned to reading the menu. ‘Apart from the aloo puri, any recommendations?’

  ‘How about we share a couple of dishes? You’ll be able to try more that way.’

  ‘Well, umm—’

  ‘Don’t panic, that won’t make this a date. We’re here to talk about Dylan, remember?’

  ‘Of course I remember. That’s why I’m here with you and not—’

  Sue pounced immediately, her expression curiously unreadable. ‘And not what? With someone else? Oh my God, you didn’t have a date, did you?’

  ‘No. I told you, I had a work thing. It can be rescheduled.’ Tom hid in his lager for a moment. ‘Let’s talk about what we are here for. How is Dylan, and more to the point, who’s looking after him?’

  ‘He’s great,’ Sue checked the time on her phone, ‘and about now Harriet will be reading him a bedtime story.’

  ‘Harriet?’

  ‘The eighteen-year-old daughter of one of my work colleagues. She’s a lovely girl and Dylan adores her.’

  ‘Right. Okay.’ Tom suddenly felt as though he knew nothing about his son’s life at all, let alone Sue’s.

  Before he could ask more questions, a waiter arrived at their table and Sue ordered for them both.

  ‘Was the food I chose okay for you?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Honestly, Tom.’ Sue passed him a poppadom. ‘Are you with me tonight?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Tom cracked his poppadom in two and dipped one half into some mango chutney. ‘Look, Sue, it’s just occurred to me that I know even less about yours and Dylan’s daily lives than I thought I did. At the risk of making it sound like an inquisition, can I ask some questions before we do the rest of it?’

  ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Okay. So, your job. I know you work in the local supermarket.’

  ‘Tesco.’

  ‘And you are on the tills, yes?’

  ‘Ah.’ Sue shuffled uneasily, taking rather more time balancing some chutney on a small fragment of poppadom. ‘I was, but I’m not now.’

  Tom stopped eating and laid down his food. ‘Sue, if your job changes, you’re supposed to tell me. It affects how much maintenance I pay. And while I don’t begrudge Dylan a penny, I’m not exactly affluent here.’

  ‘Don’t go arsy! Work is one of the things I wanted to talk about.’

  ‘So, what’s the job and how long have you had it?’

  ‘In the admin office. Payroll Assistant.’ Sue blushed. ‘I thought I should train for something better, you know, for when Dylan is over eighteen and you don’t have to help us anymore.’

  Stunned, Tom repeated, ‘When did you start?’

  ‘Two months ago.’ She crumbled a fragment of poppadom between her fingers. ‘I should have said but—’

  ‘But you didn’t want me to pay you less each month!’

  ‘No!’ Sue looked around, aware that other diners were staring at them. ‘It’s more that, well… I didn’t want to tell you and then find I was rubbish at it. I’d have been so embarrassed if I’d lost the job before I’d even finished the training.’

  Being surprised by Sue was beginning to become a regular experience. ‘Are you enjoying it?’

  ‘I am. It’s challenging. There’s so much to remember, but if I can do it… I want Dylan to be proud of me. Do you think that’s silly?’

  ‘Not at all.’ Tom hesitated before saying, ‘You’ve changed so much, Sue. What brought this on, it can’t just be Dylan?’

  ‘Well it is. I want the best for him.’ She took a deep draught of her glass of wine. ‘Talking of which, I put you on the school list as promised, and, if you’d like to, I’d be open to you having Dylan 50 per cent of the time.’

  Tom put his glass of lager down in slow motion. ‘Did you really just say 50 per cent of the time? As in, split custody?’

  ‘I did.’

  Nine

  Saturday March 21st

  A ray of morning sun streamed through a gap in the curtains, waking Tom in his attic room. Blinking with a groan, he pulled his pillow over his head. It was becoming incr
easingly difficult to sleep in the bedroom next to Helen.

  Last night, as he’d driven home from Tiverton to Upwich, he’d realised how ridiculous their situation had become. He knew she liked him, she knew he liked her. They were like a couple of teenagers who weren’t quite brave enough to make the first move.

  When he’d climbed up the servant stairs at just gone eleven the previous evening, Tom had been tempted to knock on Helen’s door, but his hand hadn’t quite connected with the wood. She’d probably have been asleep anyway.

  ‘And what would I have said if she’d opened the door?’ he muttered into his pillow. ‘Hi, Helen, I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with you, but I’m bad news on that front, but I’d love to sleep with you, so may I come in? Hardly!’

  Daydreaming about Helen was one thing, and fantasising about someone you fancy was normal, but today he decided he was going to be sensible about the situation that was building between them. Unless Helen had plans for the day, he’d ask her if she’d like to take a walk across Exmoor. They could discuss whatever it was she’d wanted to talk about last night, and he could tell her about having Dylan part time.

  He’d been so thrilled at the thought of sharing parenting with Sue that the practicalities of achieving that had escaped him at first. That elation had died by the time he and Sue were eating the final mouthfuls of naan bread, and now they crowded in on him again. How could he fit work around Dylan? What about school pick-up? Where would Dylan sleep?

  Leaving the warmth of his bed, which had once been used by one of the Victorian serving maids that had worked at Mill Grange, Tom flung opened the curtains. One glimpse of the view and his optimism returned. He would shower, dress and then see if Helen would like to walk over to the Tarr Steps. If she didn’t, then he’d walk anyway, and try to work out how to fit his life at Mill Grange around Dylan. Then he’d start enquiring into how much it would be to rent a place with two bedrooms in or around the village.

  As he grabbed a towel, Tom’s insides clenched with nerves. After years of living in a self-imposed emotional wilderness he was contemplating a life with his own home, his son with him half the time and a proper girlfriend. ‘I swear fighting the IRA was less frightening than this!’

  *

  Tina placed the empty notebook on the picnic bench outside the kitchen door and opened the first crisp page. Smoothing her palm across the cool lined paper she wrote, ‘Guest List’, at the top.

  A smile crossed her face as she wrote down her friends’ names. She knew she didn’t need to add Thea, Shaun, Helena and Tom, but she did anyway. They might be automatic invitees, but apart from Sam, they were the most important people in her life.

  Next to Thea’s name, Tina added – ‘ask to be bridesmaid’.

  Since they’d first met at Durham University as archaeology students, Tina and Thea had been firm friends. While Thea had been a born archaeologist, Tina had enjoyed every second of her degree, but hadn’t the love for the subject required to stay in the field. Instead she’d moved towards her own passion; heritage work. It was that, combined with her skill with numbers, which had led her to a career with the Exmoor Heritage Trust as their financial advisor and restoration co-ordinator – until Sam had come along just as the trust decided to sell Mill Grange. After that, everything had changed.

  She hadn’t asked Sam who he’d like to be best man, but assumed Shaun would be offered the role. Unless there was someone from his time in the forces that he hadn’t mentioned before, that he’d like to perform the task.

  A cloud blew in front of the sun, and with it, Tina’s spirits dipped as she considered who would give her away. She’d been a teenager about to head to university when a car crash had taken her parents from her. It had been a long haul to get where she was now without them, but she’d done it. However, that didn’t stop her wishing they were here. An image of her father walking down the aisle she and Sam intended to make with chairs and bands of willow, sent tears to the corner of her eyes. Pushing them away, Tina got up, clutched the notebook and pen to her chest and headed to the walled garden.

  Gertrude and Mavis were strutting around the chicken coop with their usual air of nonchalance. Every now and then one of them would tilt their heads in the direction of Tony Stark, the cockerel, making sure they still held his affections.

  ‘Good morning, ladies.’ Tina leaned on the fence which Sam had built around the hen house. ‘I’m in need of some chicken wisdom.’

  As if on cue, Betty and a few more of the White Sussex hens popped their heads out of their house, and strolled across the coop towards Tina.

  ‘I’m trying to organise mine and Sam’s wedding. We want to marry here, but his parents want us to marry at Malvern House. What do you think?’

  Gertrude gave Tina such an old-fashioned stare that she could help but laugh. ‘You have strong views about us staying here, then?’ Sitting down on a bench that overlooked the coop, Tina wondered why she was still debating the location of the wedding. It had to be at Mill Grange.

  ‘But perhaps not in the main garden as we thought. Maybe in here.’

  There was a general clucking of agreement from her feather companions.

  Tina’s gaze fell on the ruined Victorian greenhouse. Its spooky, almost gothic, splendour was something Sam had wanted to restore since he’d first purchased the manor. Although cost and time had prevented them doing anything more than a tidy up of the site, it still exuded a timeless beauty.

  Putting down her notebook, Tina moved forward to stand on the square of grass between the chickens, and the vegetable garden beyond, and tried to work out how much space there was, and if the marquee they’d envisaged for the main garden, would fit in.

  Suddenly she could see the greenhouse’s skeleton bedecked in fairy lights, a stunning backdrop to their vows.

  Running back to her pad, Tina scribbled down her idea. ‘Do you think Dylan would like to help with the putting up the fairy lights, Gertrude?’

  The responding clucks from the chief hen confirmed her suspicion that Tom’s son would like that very much, but it might not be the safest venture for the boy. ‘You’re right of course.’ Tina quickly added Dylan’s name to the guest list as a potential page boy.

  ‘How about you and Mr Stark give me away then, Gertrude? I’m sure you’d both be up to the task, and it’s not as if…’ Tina stopped talking and stared at the hens, who all stared back at her. ‘I’ve been an idiot, girls. I’ve got to go. I’ll be back later with some food.’

  Clutching her notebook, Tina jogged across the garden. She’d expected to find Sam taking his habitual early morning stroll around the grounds, making sure his domain was as it should be. Instead she found him sat on the bench by the kitchen door, a mug of tea in his hand, with another next to him.

  ‘Tea?’ Sam smiled as he spotted the notebook Thea had given her as a present before she’d left for the Cotswolds. ‘I was going to bring it over to the chickens, but then I heard the gate squeak, so I knew you were on your way.’

  Tina laughed. ‘Better get that oiled before the wedding.’

  Sam pointed to the notebook. ‘Is there room in there for a list of practical things, or is it just for the nice stuff?’

  ‘Everything!’ Tina opened to the back page. ‘But boring stuff goes at the end!’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Sam took a sip of tea before asking, ‘How far have you got?’

  Tina flashed the only page of the book with anything written on it, under Sam’s nose. ‘Thea for bridesmaid and maybe Dylan as a pageboy. I sort of assumed Shaun would be your best man, but I didn’t write it down. You might have someone else who—’

  ‘Shaun. Definitely. If he wants to do it.’ Sam nodded as Tina wrote down Shaun’s name next to ‘best man’.

  ‘I was talking to the chickens just now.’

  ‘And what genius did Gertrude and the gang deliver this morning?’

  ‘Well.’ Tina suddenly found her eyes pricked with tears. Thinking about who would atten
d her wedding in place of her parents was one thing, but actually saying it out loud was something entirely different.

  Sam frowned, pulling her close to his side. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about who’s going to give me away. The answer is obvious, but it means admitting my dad won’t be doing it.’ She wiped the back of a hand over her eyes. ‘Silly, really, after all this time.’

  ‘It’s not silly, it’s natural. I’d be worried if you didn’t feel that way.’ Sam kissed the top of her head, as Tina rested against his side.

  ‘Do you think Bert would do it? He’ll be well enough by then, won’t he?’

  Sam beamed. ‘I hoped you’d ask him.’

  ‘I’d like Mabel to be mother of the bride.’ Tina smiled. ‘I can just picture her in a hat Queen Elizabeth might wear.’

  Sam laughed. ‘Me too. Probably in lilac.’ More serious for a moment, Sam checked his watch. ‘It’s still early, but in a couple of hours why don’t we go and ask them? It might give Bert the extra oomph he needs to recover.’

  ‘He is getting better, isn’t he?’ Tina’s heart constricted. She couldn’t bear to lose Bert as well.

  ‘He is, but he’s weak. Something positive to think about will help him recover all the quicker.’

  Writing, ‘Ask Bert and Mabel to be honorary father and mother of the bride’ in her book, Tina said, ‘I thought of something else when I was with the chickens.’

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘I know we were going to have the wedding on this bit of garden, with the house behind us, but how about having it in the walled garden, with the greenhouse behind us?’

  ‘But the greenhouse is in ruin?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s very beautiful, and it means that Gertrude and crew could come to the wedding.’

  ‘You’re crackers.’

  ‘Yes.’ Tina sat up so she could drink her tea. ‘I had another thought too. Why don’t we invite your parents over for the weekend soon? If they saw this place, they might understand why we want to marry here.’