by Jenny Kane
‘Of course.’ Biting back the urge to ask where Helen was, Sybil was saved the bother by Sue.
‘Who’s Helen?’
Dylan came to Tom’s rescue. ‘I’ve told you about Helen, Mum. She works on the dig with Dad. She’s really nice. Knows about the Romans and dinosaurs.’
Keeping her eyes fixed on Tom, Sue sounded suspicious. ‘A work colleague then?’
‘And a friend.’ Feeling increasingly uncomfortable that Sue was here and Helen wasn’t, Tom changed the subject. ‘I believe you had something exciting to tell me?’
‘Can I tell him, Mum?’
‘Go for it.’
‘Next week it’s my very first parent’s evening at school. Will you come Dad? Will you? Pleeeeease.’
As Dylan wriggled off his seat and scrambled onto his dad’s lap, Tom felt his heart burst with love for his son. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ He looked up as Sue, who was looking at him oddly. ‘What time is it?’
‘Four o’clock. Will that be okay for you?’
‘Blimey, I was expecting an evening appointment. I’m sure my parents, when they bothered to go to such things, dragged me back into school after seven.’
‘I expect they did, but this is a new century. Anyway, I needed to book an early timeslot, as I’m going out afterwards.’
‘So you chose four o’clock to suit you, even though you knew I don’t finish work until six?’
‘Well, I…’
Catching the worried expression on Dylan’s face, Tom gave his son a smile. ‘I will be there. I’ll talk to Sam the minute we get back. I’m sure he won’t mind.’
‘You can meet my teacher! And you’ll get to see my work. I’ve got a picture on the wall over the art table. But I’m not going to tell you what it’s of. It’s a surprise!’
*
‘Are you alright?’ Thea locked the inside of the campervan door, and slid into bed next to Shaun. ‘Got the guilts for sneaking off to bed with your temporary co-host in the middle of the afternoon?’
‘Hardly! It’s our day off anyway, apart from the news thing. No, it was something Ajay said. It made me think.’ Shaun tucked his arm around Thea’s shoulder. ‘If we hadn’t met before, you and I might have met today for the first time.’
‘How did you work that out?’
‘It’s not unusual for the local news crew to visit us when we’re on site. They often invite an expert on the period in question, Saxon, Tudor, whatever.’
‘So?’
‘So, if life had been different, and you hadn’t gone to work at Mill Grange, you may well have been the local expert, drafted in from the Roman Baths, so we’d have met today, and I’d have asked you on a date.’
Laughing, Thea kissed him hard. ‘You old romantic you.’
‘Well, it could have happened.’
‘It could.’ Rolling onto her side gingerly, so as not to fall out of the narrow bed, Thea slid a hand down under the covers. ‘Or it could have been the bloke who runs the museum in Cirencester or the lass who manages Chedworth Villa.’
Shaun groaned gently as Thea’s fingers found what they were looking for. ‘Nah, it would have been the hot girl from the back room in the Roman Baths. No question.’
Nineteen
Saturday March 28th
Helen’s legs ached more than they had any right to, considering how much physical work she’d done over the last six months. It wasn’t as if the walk from where she’d parked her Land Rover at Exford, to Landacre Bridge was that far. The three and half miles of moorland terrain wasn’t even tough going. It was the fact she’d marched there at an incredible speed, trying to outpace her thinking that caused her muscles to twinge.
Even the climb up Chibbet Hill, which was the steepest part of the walk, shouldn’t have done more than increase her pulse. Today, however, as Helen sank down onto the grass next to the pretty bridge, and surveyed the wonder of Exmoor, she felt as if she’d like to borrow Bert’s oxygen tank.
Not wanting to spend the day wandering about Mill Grange on her own, when there was a high chance that Tina would take one look at her expression and ask her what was wrong, Helen had packed a rucksack with food and drink, grabbed a notebook and pen, and grabbed her car keys. She hadn’t known she was heading to Landacre, but now she was here, she was glad she’d come.
‘I’ll start planning the book,’ Helen told a passing rabbit.
Resting against the dry-stone wall behind her, she stretched her legs out and tried to visualise the chapter headings she’d need to encompass everything a potential reader would wish to know about Upwich Fortlet. She grabbed her notebook and listed the headings, ‘Introduction’ and ‘The Romans in South West England’, before the picture she’d been trying to suppress floated to the front of her mind, obscuring her work-based thoughts.
Helen wondered if Dylan had stuck to orange juice or if he’d finally been brave and opted for the strawberry milkshake he always said he fancied, but never tried. Tom would have black coffee. How many cupfuls has he drunk by now? She couldn’t imagine Sue eating scones, but maybe she was wrong. ‘Or maybe you don’t want her to eat them, because that’s what you and Tom do when you go to Sybil’s.’
I think we owe him some proper family time, don’t you?
The memory of Sue’s words made Helen feel cold as she leafed through her empty notebook. She tried to imagine all the pages filled with the notes she’d need to make if she was going to write about the fortlet’s history, rather than picturing Tom, Sue and Dylan playing happy families.
You know that Tom was put in an impossible situation and he went with Sue and not you because it was the right thing to do for Dylan.
Helen forced herself to consider a more pressing problem. What would she do about her job?
‘That’s the only real problem,’ she muttered to herself as she pulled a flask of coffee from her bag. ‘I need to choose between working with my friends at Mill Grange or going back to working with my colleagues in Bath. The insecurity I feel towards Sue is a failing, not a problem.’
A memory of Tom’s fingers running across the front of her t-shirt that morning sent a frisson of pleasure shooting through her, despite her self-imposed gloom. Finding herself suddenly smiling, Helen gave herself a mental shake, and checking no one was around, started to talk herself through her feelings as she used to do when working out tricky business issues back in Bath.
‘One: Sue is Dylan’s mum, so Tom will see her. Two: if Tom is going to have joint custody, then they’re going to have to meet more often to sort out how it’ll work. Three: You have no right, or reason, to feel excluded. You were not part of Tom’s life when Dylan came along.’ Rechecking no one was listening as she told herself off, Helen kept going. ‘More to the point, no one knows you are part of his life now; a mutual decision based on common sense as we live and work in the same place and because we have Dylan to consider.
‘Four: I wouldn’t begrudge Dylan a moment of happiness with his parents. So, in conclusion, I’ve been feeling like a slighted teenager for no reason.’
Helen looked down at the notebook in her lap. ‘Luckily, no one knows I stormed off in a huff, so no harm done.’
Picking up her pen, she added, ‘The Romans on Exmoor’, to her list of chapter headings.
*
Waving at Tom, Tina headed to the table for two she’d reserved. Situated on the opposite side of the café, she was out of earshot of the small family group, deep in animated conversation, near the garden door.
Sybil appeared at her side, a pot of tea in one hand and a pot of coffee in the other. ‘Mabel almost with you, Tina, or should I make her a fresh pot in a while?’
‘She’s on her way. The hospital phoned as we were leaving her cottage. After I got the thumbs up telling me Bert was alright, I was ushered out to make sure we didn’t lose the reservation.’
‘As if I’d let anyone else sit at Mabel’s favourite table.’ Sybil laughed. ‘How’s she coping without Bert?’
>
Tina pulled a face. ‘It’s hard to tell. She’s back doing lunches at the manor, so she’s keeping busy, but she isn’t the same.’
‘That’s what I thought when I saw her a couple of days ago. I’m not sure she’s eating properly. She’s lost weight, and she wasn’t big to start with.’
‘I don’t think she’s sleeping much either.’ Tina looked out of the window in time to see Mabel crossing the road towards them. ‘That’s why I’ve invited her here this morning, to get some food into her while I distract her with wedding talk.’
Sybil added a handful of serviettes to the wooden dispenser on the neighbouring table. ‘I’ll assume three cheese scones between two, unless you come and tell me otherwise.’
‘Perfect. Thanks Sybil.’
*
Dylan was having trouble sitting still. His scone and orange juice were long gone, but his parents were being extremely slow about drinking their coffee, despite having finished talking about school ages ago. When he saw Tina come in, Dylan put down the book he was reading and tugged his dad’s sleeve.
‘Look, it’s Tina, can I go and say hello?’
Sue shook her head before Tom had time to answer. ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea to bother one of your dad’s employers.’
Tom laid a hand on his son’s leg. ‘Tina’s as much a friend as an employer, and I know she wouldn’t mind, but perhaps you could just say hello on the way out, Dylan.’
‘Okay.’ Dylan lifted his book back up, only to drop it again when he saw Mabel. ‘Look, Dad. It’s Mabel! She’s not an employ person, Mum. She’s my friend. Can I go?’
Sue was surprised. ‘That old lady is your friend?’
‘And one of the nicest people you’d ever wish to meet.’ Tom suddenly found himself having to pick his words with care so he didn’t lose his temper. ‘Of course you can, Dylan. But walk and be careful of Sybil moving around with hot food and drink.’
As Dylan shot off like a rocket trying very hard to move in slow motion, Tom hissed under his breath. ‘That woman, in fact, those women, have been incredibly kind to your son. Don’t you ever make them sound as if they are not worthy of his attention again.’
Sue’s eyebrows shot up, as she looked over to where Dylan was being scooped up onto Mabel’s lap and held as if he was visiting a grandparent. ‘Don’t tell me you have a thing for your boss?’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Tom leaned forward so he didn’t have to raise his voice. ‘I assume your implying a fling with Tina rather than Mabel?’
‘Well—’
‘What is wrong with you, Sue? We were having a lovely morning. Dylan was happy, we had things to look forward to, and then you go and say something like that?’
‘Well, I—’
‘You’re jealous.’
Sue crashed her coffee cup down onto her saucer, causing half of the café’s occupants to turn and look at her. ‘Why the hell would I be jealous of a wrinkly old lady and a woman who hasn’t grown out of having her hair in pigtails?’
‘You are jealous of the way Dylan’s face lit up when he saw them, that’s what.’ Tom shook his head. ‘What’s going on with you, Sue? I thought you were happy with your new job and new life and so on.’
‘I am.’
‘So what’s with the barbs?’
Sue continued to watch Dylan. She couldn’t hear what was being said but she could see he was giggling and she sighed. ‘I suppose I wish he’d act like that around my friends.’
‘I doubt they spoil him rotten and read him bedtime stories, though, do they?’ Tom forced a smile, while wondering who these friends were. ‘He likes Harriet though, she reads to him too.’
Sue ignored the question. ‘Perhaps we should go. Dylan’s probably disturbed them for quite long enough.’
Hastily leaving some cash on the table to pay the bill, Tom followed as Sue got up and headed across the café at a speed she’d have disapproved of if Dylan had adopted it.
‘Hello, I’m Sue, Dylan’s mum.’
Tom winced as he heard the stress Sue put on her role in Dylan’s life. He felt embarrassed for his son, as recognising the tone his mother used as one to be wary of, he slid off Mabel’s lap.
Mabel’s face adopted an expression not dissimilar to the one she used when being told a vegan was coming to dinner. ‘I’m Mrs Hastings, and this is my friend, Miss Martin.’ She turned to Dylan, and winked playfully. ‘I’ll tell Bert I’ve seen you. Now be a good boy and we’ll have another chat soon.’
With an apologetic flash of his eyes, Tom ushered Sue and Dylan out of the café as fast as he could.
‘Mrs Hastings and Miss Martin,’ Sue scoffed as Dylan ran ahead of them along the quiet pavement. ‘Stuck up old biddy.’
Grabbing her elbow, Tom spun Sue around so she was looking right at him. ‘Now you listen to me, Mabel is of a time where manners earned respect. If you think you acted like someone who deserved to be introduced on a first name basis, then you are delusional.’
‘She’s stuck in a time warp.’
‘Better that than dismissing your son’s friends as worthless right in front of him! Thank goodness he’s too young to understand quite how rude you were. Don’t forget, if you want me to be there to pick Dylan up from school sometimes, and skip off work so I can do parent’s evenings and such like, they’re the people who’ll be covering for me!’
*
‘She’s just as I imagined, but without pink hair.’
Having dismissed Sue in one sentence, Mabel raised her teacup to her lips. ‘So, Tina love, wedding plans. Tell me everything you’ve sorted out so far.’
‘Very little.’ Tina pulled her wedding planning notebook from her bag. ‘The venue is sorted, but then again, it isn’t.’
‘I don’t understand?’
Tina poured herself another cup of coffee as she told Mabel about Sam’s parents’ wish that they marry at Malvern House. ‘We’ve told them we want to marry here, and that we’d love them to come and see the place, but it’s been very quiet ever since.’
‘I see.’ Mabel lifted her teacup to her lips, hovering it there as she listened.
‘I want to marry at Mill Grange, we’ve even worked out that we can put a marquee over the ground between the chickens and the greenhouse, so we can have the ceremony in the walled garden, and then a couple of small marquees on the main lawn for the reception.’
Finally taking a drink, Mabel said, ‘I can just see that. I bet the old greenhouse would look beautiful with fairy lights all over its old frame.’
‘You don’t think I’m mean asking Sam to break with family tradition and marry here then?’
‘No, and I doubt Sam does either. This is more than your home. This is where you met and where Sam began to recover from his claustrophobia. Anyway, you’re the bride! Tradition usually dictates you get to marry from home.’
‘I’m not sure Sam’s family do usual. Sam is convinced his father is behind this, even though his mother was the messenger.’
‘From what I’ve heard of the earl, he does seem to take tradition very seriously.’
Tina twiddled a teaspoon through her fingers and shrugged. ‘Oh well, I’m sure we’ll work it out.’
‘To change the subject a moment, I have news.’ Mabel’s eyes suddenly twinkled, and she put her cup down with a clatter. ‘I was going to tell you straight away, but then I thought I’d wait until we were back at Mill Grange, to tell everyone together, but I can’t wait!’
‘What is it?’
‘Bert’s coming home tomorrow!’
‘Oh my God, that’s fantastic! What a relief.’
‘I thought Sam should be with us when I told you, but, well… I’m so excited, Tina! I know he’ll have to stay at home and just sit around, and I’ll probably get irritated with him. But I’m looking forward to that so much!’
‘Getting irritated with him?’ Tina laughed as Mabel rubbed her hands in delight.
‘Yes. I’ve really missed it.’
Saturday March 28th
Telling herself she needed to make a trip to see the remains of Rainsbury Roman fort and Martinshoe fortlet, the only other Roman military installations found on Exmoor so far, in the very near future, Helen sat back on her bed. Her notebook was almost half full. Lists of points to consider, academic papers she had to read, as well as ideas for the data she needed to accumulate from the fortlet itself, from precise measurements to photographs of the best finds.
She knew Tom was back. She could hear Dylan’s voice faintly through the wall as he made the appropriate roaring noises while his dad read him his favourite dinosaur story before bed.
Closing the notebook, Helen stretched out her tired legs and looked around the little room. Its whitewashed walls helped give it a sense of space, even though there wasn’t much. The built-in cupboard, which had been acting as Helen’s wardrobe for half the year, was so crammed full of jumpers, jeans and dungarees that it didn’t shut properly. There was a heap of trainers and walking shoes by the bedroom door. Her coat hung next to the old hoodie she’d been using as a dressing gown since she came to Mill Grange. Helen considered her wardrobe and chest of drawers in her two-bed terrace. They didn’t hold much more in the way of variety when it came to her clothes, apart from her office clothes and the one dress she kept just in case she needed it.
Continuing with her survey of her attic space, seeing how the light from the small window reflected across the room, how the rag mat had been stuck down so you didn’t skid across the polished floor boards, she tried to picture her bedroom at home.
It was twice as big as the old servant quarters she was in now, with soft, blue carpet, which meant you could cross the room without getting cold feet or being in danger of slipping unless you donned rubber soled slippers.
Helen sat up, running a hand over the wooden bed head she’d been resting against. It was hard and unforgiving without pillows to cushion it. At home she had a pine bedstead, which wasn’t much more comfortable, now she thought about it. That bed was a double though. A fact she often considered ironic, as no one had ever shared it with her. But after squeezing her curves into a narrow single bed for weeks, she had to concede it would feel like bliss to have space to rollover in the night.
