by Jenny Kane
‘That’s because you’re a gentleman. I used to have to do the same for Bert. You can imagine how that went down in the 1940s and 50s! Bert was teased constantly for it. Drove him mad. Still…’
Sam could well imagine. Not for the first time was grateful that, if he had to have seen hell, he’d witnessed it in the twenty-first century not the twentieth. ‘So, how is the old boy? I couldn’t hear much of what I was told in the car.’
While Tina was busy ordering, Mabel explained to Sam about Bert not being in the Coleridge ward after all, and how Jamie had taken care of them before going off home at the end of what they’d discovered was a twelve-hour shift.
‘You’d never have known; the lad was as lively as anything.’
Sam laughed. ‘So was I when I worked twelve hours at a time when I was young. Not so good at it now!’
‘Why do you think Bert and I nap in the afternoons between helping with lunch and dinner at the manor?’ Mabel smiled, but the sigh that escaped her was unmissable.
Sam gave her hand a supportive squeeze. ‘But Bert was in good spirits? His breathing an occasional issue rather than a crisis?’
‘The problem is that they’re concerned it might get worse not better. That’s why he’s staying in hospital, so if he does have a bad moment like he did on Friday night, then they can help him instantly. Although he’s upbeat, you can tell it costs Bert to speak for too long. Not that it stops him of course!’
Tina returned with a tray laden with cutlery and drinks. ‘We timed that well. Worst of lunch rush is over and the diners for evening meals aren’t here yet.’ She slid the tray onto the table. ‘I ordered ham, egg and chips all round. Hope that’s alright.’
‘Perfect.’ Mabel picked up her tea and cradled it to her chest. ‘Thank you both. I don’t know what I’d have done about seeing Bert today if you weren’t here.’
‘Our pleasure.’ Sam looked at Tina, who immediately inclined her head; agreeing with what she was sure Sam was about to say.
‘One of us will get you over to see Bert every day until he’s home.’
‘But you can’t. I mean, thank you, but Mill Grange needs you. The next round of visitors arrives tomorrow. I couldn’t ask you to interrupt the business for me. Bert wouldn’t like that either.’
‘You didn’t ask,’ Sam passed the cutlery around the table, ‘we offered. If Tina or I can’t bring you, then Tom or Helen will. We can all drive and we all adore you and Bert.’
‘But—’
Mabel’s objections were interrupted by the arrival of their food. After which Tina said, ‘Did you tell Sam about Bert trying to chat up the old dear in the bed next to him?’
Chuckling, Mabel speared a chip. ‘Made my day that did. The old fool is still after the redheads!’
‘But it was dyed – and a ghastly shade of red at that. It clashed alarmingly with her white wrinkled skin.’
‘She was laughing when we left her though, and she wasn’t when we arrived.’ Mabel looked proudly across at Tina. ‘My Bert did that.’
*
‘Unlike the public baths in many Roman towns, the bath suite at Birdlip would have been an exclusive place for specifically invited guests of high social status. We think of social networking as a new idea, but the Romans knew the value of it centuries ago. Bathing with your peers in places such as this, would have been an essential part of that networking process, enhancing business opportunities and improving personal status.
‘This area is part of the later phase of the villa’s development. We are looking at workmanship from the fourth century, whereas over there,’ Thea waved a hand to the left, ‘the earlier phases of the sites can be seen, with the outhouses and, what we expect, are servant’s quarters.’
Thea knelt to the tiny section of mosaic, picking up a soft brush and sweeping it over the tiles. ‘As you can see, Shaun and I have had the privilege of uncovering the first few rows of mosaic tesserae, or tiles, and I’m pleased to report that, so far, they are largely intact. Naturally, it is too soon to guess what pattern might be revealed, or indeed if we’re going to be lucky and have an undisturbed mosaic beneath us, but we could ultimately be looking at something in the same style as at Chedworth. If that’s the case, it may even have been created by the same artist.’ Thea looked directly into the camera, ‘Although, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s get back to the digging, and see what appears next.’
‘And cut!’
Before Julian could tell Thea how fantastic she was, Shaun stepped down into the bath house, next to her and engulfed her in a hug. ‘That was brilliant. Well done, love.’
‘Yes indeed.’ Julian brushed his hands together briskly. ‘Right then, if you could just put our guest historian down, Shaun, I need you to crack on. Let’s get some more hands in here and get this mosaic opened to the eyes of the world.’
Twisting on the balls of his feet, Julian suddenly looked back at the two archaeologists. ‘Drinks on me tonight, Thea. You deserve a treat after doing such a flawless job today.’
Fourteen
Tuesday March 24th
Holding the plans of the Roman fortlet before her, Helen stood at the head of the site and examined its layout. The publishers needed to know if she was going to write the book, or not, soon. But apart from Tom, she still hadn’t told anyone about the offer.
Tom.
The smile that had more or less lived on her face for the past few days widened as Helen twisted her stance. She could see him and his companions working across the fake trench on the other side of the site.
Helen knew Sam and Tina had noticed her new contentment, but she and Tom had agreed to say nothing about their walk on Saturday, nor the kiss that had followed on the clapper bridge. Gentle at first, tentative, it had quickly turned into something urgent and charged with passion. A kiss that had lasted so long, a rather embarrassed dog walker had been obliged to loudly cough at them, so they would stop and let him cross the river.
With the arrival of the new guests yesterday and being short staffed, they’d had little time alone since then. But that was alright. Now they’d finally admitted how they felt, time was on their side.
Except, it wasn’t.
When she’d first taken her sabbatical, seven months had felt an age, now the days towards her departure date were ebbing away. Soon, she’d have to depart for Bath, ready to resume her post after the Easter weekend.
Two hours away. As she thought about how far she was going to be from Mill Grange, and how long the working hours she was returning to were, Helen wondered why she hadn’t just dragged Tom into bed with her on Saturday night. The attic had been empty but for them. No one would have known, and she’d certainly wanted to, but her insecurities had stopped her. No man had seen her body in years. What if he hated what he saw when – if – the moment came?
‘Cupid, if you’re listening out there, I think it’s high time you thought about the consequences of your actions!’ Muttering as she tried to concentrate on the job in hand, Helen found herself smiling again. It might feel like she was freefalling without a parachute, but she still felt more alive than she had in years.
‘Focus, woman!’ Helen pulled her phone from her pocket. Knowing she should have spoken to Sam and Tina about the book offer already, she sent Sam a quick text asking for a meeting when he was back from seeing Bert. Then she sent Thea a text asking if she could call when it was safe to talk away from the cameras.
She was about to start a list of ideas for the book based on what she’d discussed with Tom, when he appeared with one of the guests. Cherry, Helen thought her name was. There were three women staying at Mill Grange that week, all with the same hairstyles and uniform of jeans and t-shirts. To her shame, Helen was having trouble remembering which was which.
‘Helen.’ Tom raised a hand in greeting. ‘Cherry is proving a natural at this archaeology lark. Anything she could do up on the real site?’
‘Certainly is.’ Helen got up, gesturing to the far side of the
fortlet. ‘Come on, let’s take a look.’
Helen tried not to mind the flirty thank you Cherry offered Tom before he returned to his other charges. You have to accept he’s a good-looking man. People are going to find him attractive.
Ten minutes later, as she knelt next to Cherry in a trench on the outer edge of the site, Helen’s phone buzzed with the arrival of a text. Expecting it to be Thea or Sam, Helen mumbled an apology, and checking Cherry was happy with what she was doing, stepped away to check her message.
It was from Tom.
I really fancy you. Just saying. Tom x
*
Ajay jabbed a fork towards the note stuck up on the wall.
‘Have you seen this, Shaun?’
Picking up his pint, Shaun joined his friend on the far side of The Carthorse’s function room. The hastily put together poster, written on a page ripped from a notebook, announced that Julian had arranged a meal for the main presenters on Friday night.
‘Just the main presenters?’ Shaun frowned. ‘And this was the man who didn’t want me and Thea to chat on telly together in case it patronised the viewers! What about the archaeologists? They’re the ones that do most of the work around here.’
Sharing his indignation Ajay ran a finger over the words, main presenters. ‘I’d like to know what main actually means. Is it Julian, you and Thea, or is it me and Andy too?’
Shaun grunted. ‘It means you two as well. At least it ought to. But I have a feeling Julian would prefer it if you weren’t there, or me for that matter.’
‘You still think he’s after Thea?’
‘If he isn’t, then he’s got a funny way of showing it.’
*
‘Mabel, how wonderful to see you!’ Helen came in through the kitchen door, Cherry at her side. ‘Cherry, meet Mabel, preparer of the finest lunches in all of England.’
‘Daft girl.’ Mabel swatted away the compliment. ‘Bacon rolls are almost ready and there’s fresh coffee in the pot.’ She paused when she saw the state of the new arrivals’ hands. ‘For those who have scrubbed enough mud off their hands!’
Cherry laughed as Helen pointed the way through the kitchen to the downstairs washroom. Waiting while her charge got cleaned up, Helen asked, ‘How was Bert this morning?’
‘Much the same.’ Mabel turned away from the Aga. ‘His main problem is boredom. He isn’t one to sit and do nothing, but every time he tries to move, he starts coughing and that makes his breathing tricky.’
‘Which makes him weaker?’
Mabel nodded. ‘I hate seeing him in that horrid mask.’
‘I’m down to take you to the hospital tomorrow. Would you like me to come in with you? I’d like to see him. Your conversation must be running a bit dry by now.’
‘Would you?’ Mabel sat at the kitchen table. She looked worn out.
‘Of course.’ Helen held her hands up, so she didn’t drop mud on the table. ‘Forgive me saying so, but should you be here, Mabel? You seem tired.’
‘I am.’ Mabel twisted her wedding ring around her finger. ‘But sitting around at home all day, just waiting… Waiting for the hospital to call, waiting for the next trip to the hospital, and then not knowing what to say when I get there… Here, at least, I’m useful.’
Hearing Cherry’s footsteps along the corridor, Helen quickly said, ‘I’m glad you’re here, and not just because of your delicious bacon sandwiches.’
‘Thank you,’ Mabel whispered into Helen’s ear. ‘Good to see that you and Tom have sorted yourselves out at last.’
‘How did you know? We haven’t told anyone.’ Helen blushed bright red.
‘I’m old, not blind.’
‘We aren’t ready to tell anyone yet. Would you mind not…?’
Mabel winked. ‘Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.’
Getting to her feet as Cherry came in, Mabel busied herself into hostess mode, as Helen retreated to the bathroom.
*
Making sure his workforce was happily tucking into their lunch, Tom hailed Sam as he saw him leaving the walled garden, an empty sack of chicken feed in one hand, and a clipboard and pen in the other.
‘Gertrude and co. alright today?’
Sam shook out the empty sack. ‘Wondering why they don’t get fed more often and insisting on front row seats at the wedding. Usual stuff.’
‘Sounds about right.’ Tom grinned as he gestured to the kitchen. ‘Bacon sandwich and coffee? Or are you in a tea mood?’
‘Tea would be great thanks. The sandwich goes without saying.’ Sam gestured to the nearest picnic bench. ‘I’ve got time for that chat now if you have?’
Having collected their lunches, Tom headed to the table. Until now it hadn’t occurred to him that Sam might say no to Dylan staying at Mill Grange until he’d found somewhere to rent. Now the chat he’d asked for was about to start, Tom realised he’d taken it for granted Sam would be okay with it. He hadn’t even got round to asking Mabel about good letting agents.
‘So, how can I help?’
Tom passed Sam his sandwich and decided to dive straight in with his request. ‘I’m after a favour. A big one.’
‘Go on.’
‘Sue has agreed I should have joint custody of Dylan.’
‘That’s brilliant news. I’m so chuffed for you.’ Sam patted his friend on the back. ‘How can I help?’
‘It’s a case of living arrangements. I’ll need to find a place to rent for the two of us, but until then…’
‘Until then you’ll need to have Dylan with you here, is that it?’
Tom took sanctuary in his sandwich for a moment, before saying, ‘I know it’s a hell of a cheek, but what do you think? If you’d allow me to have Dylan here for half the week, would it work? The house isn’t designed for children, and although he is used to the place from his visits, it would mean me having to fetch him from school during the afternoon, which means finishing work early some days, or at least breaking off from it for a while. Then Dylan would need watching while I am working and…’
As he heard his own words, the reality of the situation he’d agreed to with Sue sank in properly for the first time. This wasn’t just a question of Dylan sleeping in the spare twin bed in his room now and then. This would affect his whole life and work, and therefore the running of Mill Grange. He found himself holding his breath as he waited for Sam to speak.
‘When does this arrangement with Sue start?’
‘April the fifth.’ Tom didn’t dare meet Sam’s eyes.
‘In theory I’m in favour. We’d need to work out how to make sure the archaeological training wasn’t interrupted, so let’s have a group meeting. Helen can stand in for Thea. I owe her a meeting as she asked for a chat this morning as well.’
Tom had stopped listening to Sam as he repeated, ‘Stand in for Thea?’
‘Well yes, we only have Helen for a few more weeks. Once Thea is back, she’ll be the one who covers the trenches while you do the school run.’
‘Of course.’ Tom’s insides clenched. She really is leaving soon.
‘You alright, mate?’
Tom picked up his coffee mug. ‘To tell you the truth, I feel guilty for putting this on you, especially when we’re short-handed and you have a wedding to organise.’
‘Not a bit of it. We all love Dylan. Anyway,’ Sam peered over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being overheard, ‘it isn’t just the wedding we have to organise. I have something else in mind, and I’m going to need your help.’
Fifteen
Friday March 27th
Mabel engulfed Dylan’s hand in hers as they walked through the clinical corridors, with Tom right behind them.
‘I’ve never been to a hospital before.’ Dylan stayed close to Mabel as they wove their way through the corridors towards the wards for afternoon visiting.
Tom laughed. ‘You have, but you won’t remember.’
‘Have I?’
‘Of course. You were born in a hospital.’
> ‘This one, Dad?’
‘No, but they all look pretty much the same. You were born in Swindon.’ Tom ruffled his son’s hair. ‘Best day of my life.’
‘Why, what happened?’
Mabel laughed despite the cluster of nervous apprehension gathering in her gut as they approached Bert’s ward. ‘Because you were born, Dylan.’
‘Oh. That’s nice.’ He looked at his dad. ‘Are we almost there yet?’
‘Next corridor.’
‘It’s a long walk.’ Mabel looked apologetically at Tom. ‘Like I said in the car, I don’t think they’ll let all three of us see Bert. They’re strict about the two at the bedside rule.’
‘It’s fine. You can give Bert my love and I’ll go and find us some coffee for afterwards.’
‘Coffee! Yuk.’ Dylan pulled a face. ‘Can I have orange juice? Mum forgot to put one in my school lunch today.’
‘Did she?’ Tom frowned. ‘Did you find a drink alright?’
‘There’s always water.’
‘Right. Okay, coffee and orange juice.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘We’ll ask though, just in case we can all go in.’ Mabel smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing my old boy’s face when he sees you, young fella.’
Dylan tugged anxiously at Mabel’s arm. ‘Bert will be okay, won’t he? He’s my friend.’
Looking helplessly at Tom, Mabel opened her mouth, but no words would come out. How could she make a promise it wasn’t in her power to keep?
Seeing the emotions battle on her face, Tom picked up Dylan. ‘Why don’t you go and book in at reception, Mabel? We’ll wait here.’
As the relieved old lady joined the short queue, Tom sat on a plastic chair and took a deep breath. ‘Bert is going to be pleased to see you, Dylan, but you must remember he is very poorly. His voice might sound a bit strange. He might even be wearing a special mask to help him breathe.’
Dylan’s usual red cheeks paled. ‘Mabel said he was tired a lot.’
