Midsummer Dreams at Mill Grange Read online

  Coming soon by Jenny Kane

  Autumn Leaves at Mill Grange

  Spring Blossoms at Mill Grange

  MIDSUMMER DREAMS AT MILL GRANGE

  Jenny Kane

  AN IMPRINT OF HEAD OF ZEUS

  www.ariafiction.com

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2020 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd

  Copyright © Jenny Kane, 2020

  The moral right of Jenny Kane to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 9781838938116

  Cover design © Cherie Chapman

  Aria

  c/o Head of Zeus

  First Floor East

  5–8 Hardwick Street

  London EC1R 4RG

  www.ariafiction.com

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Become an Aria Addict

  Dedicated to Tammy and Evie, without whom visits to Northmoor House (the ‘real’ Mill Grange) would not be the same.

  Prologue

  March 8th

  Thea Thomas checked her mobile. EMERGENCY CALLS ONLY was written in bold type across the top of the screen.

  She tried connecting to her Wi-Fi.

  Nothing happened.

  Relief made her shoulders sag, as a wide smile knocked away some of the nervousness she felt about starting a new job in an unfamiliar part of England.

  Here, she could avoid the constant barrage of social media alerts and unwanted texts, calls and emails. Here, she could start over.

  *

  Positioned at the top of a high rise of land, not far from the southern border of Exmoor, the Victorian manor house called Mill Grange rose from the centre of a gravelled drive, taking command of the surrounding scenery. Three tiers of a once-loved terraced garden fell away from the house in tatty overgrown rows. At the foot of these gardens ran a semi-encircling band of encroaching woodland, which the Ordnance Survey map Thea was clutching declared to stretch down to the River Barle on one side and the meandering River Exe on the other.

  Huddled beneath her thick jumper against the sharp March wind, Thea was enfolded in a sensation of freedom and peace. The very stillness of the air, the lack of any visible overhead wires or street lighting, made her feel as if she’d driven into a Victorian time capsule. A Roman historian and archaeologist to the bone, she felt daunted by the prospect of taking on the restoration of a manor centuries removed from her field of expertise. With its fourteen bedrooms, seven bathrooms, numerous associated rooms, outhouses, and the mill after which it was named, a quarter of a mile away on the edge of Upwich village, it was not a task for the faint-hearted. However, the early spring sunshine, which caused the house’s granite walls to glitter with welcoming promise, seemed to be telling her it was going to be alright.

  Alongside her Roman studies at university, Thea had trained in industrial archaeology and museum management, and was well-qualified for the job in hand. But this challenge, to turn Mill Grange into a heritage centre, was vastly different from her last posting at the Roman Baths in Bath. She could feel herself prodding the outer edges of her comfort zone.

  At least she wouldn’t have to face the unknown alone. Her best friend, Tina, had been associated with the project for some time. Then there was the team of volunteers who’d been working on restoring Mill Grange, on a casual basis, for the last five years. A tingle of anxiety dotted Thea’s palms as she wondered how they’d take to being guided in their endeavours after pleasing themselves for so long.

  Flicking an unruly stray brown hair from her eyes, she circuited the outside of the manor house. Thea’s boots made satisfying crunching sounds against the gravel as she attempted to banish her nerves, peering through each window as she went. The eclectic mix of original Victorian and reproduction furniture and artwork she saw within took her breath away. Squinting and pushing her eyes as close to the glass as she could, she studied the wallpaper. It was original. She was sure of it. With every new step and glimpse of the treasures within, she felt more exhilarated.

  She could do this.

  Thea checked her watch. The courier arranged to deliver the keys to the double doors that would take her inside Mill Grange would not arrive for another hour.

  She stood still and listened. Birds called overhead. The breeze rustled the newly budding leaves. Otherwise there was nothing. In that moment Thea felt as if she might be the only human being left in the world.

  Rather than being overwhelmed by the isolation of the place, as she walked from the house, down the sloping dew dampened grass towards the long-abandoned kitchen garden, Thea felt more relaxed than she had in weeks.

  John would never find her here. It was for his own good. She couldn’t face another excruciating conversation like the one they’d had in February.

  One

  February 8th

  It wasn’t him.

  It couldn’t be. He’d moved away.

  At least, he’d told her he had.

  If Thea had any doubts about her vision, the sinking feeling in her stomach confirmed her fears. Her body had sensed her ex-boyfriend’s presence before her brain had finished joining the dots.

  A coach-worth of Japanese tourists was following a stressed tour guide around the outside of Bath’s Pump Room. Assessing the amount of lemon cake and espresso she had left, Thea wondered if she should abandon her café lunch and trust to the
crush of tourists to shield her from the man she’d hoped never to see again.

  Telling herself that the chances of John Sommers spotting her were slim, Thea blew ripples into the top of her coffee. So what if he does see me? We’ve been apart for three months now. He won’t want to talk to me.

  Returning to the novel she’d been reading as she sat outside the Abbey Café, Thea was unable to prevent her eyes lifting from the page every few seconds to see if he was still there. On the third surreptitious raise of her eyelids, she finally convinced herself that John had disappeared from view – or that maybe she’d imagined his presence in the first place.

  She hadn’t finished exhaling with relief, when a voice from behind made her jump.

  ‘If it isn’t the gorgeous Miss Thomas! What a coincidence.’

  ‘What do you want, John?’ Placing her cup onto its saucer, Thea gave an internal groan of resignation.

  ‘I thought it was you. A pointlessly tiny cup of coffee, a slice of lemon cake and a novel. Such a giveaway! Although I had to do a double-take because your hair is wrong.’

  Thea’s hand automatically went to her chocolate brown ponytail. ‘What do you mean it’s wrong?’

  ‘You’ve grown it.’ It was clear from his tone that the change of style did not meet his approval.

  Self-consciously, Thea muttered, ‘Well, I like it,’ into her coffee.

  Oblivious to his lack of tact, John smiled in a way that made his emerald eyes shine with the promise of mischief. ‘I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure it was you, but I had to check. It felt like the right thing to do.’

  ‘The right thing to do?’ Wary, and unsure she wanted the answer to her next question, Thea asked, ‘How did you know I was here?’

  Ignoring the enquiry, John pinched a few cake crumbs from her plate. ‘I wanted to ask you to come out to dinner with me tonight.’

  Thea almost choked on her coffee.

  ‘I want to talk to you. It’s been ages. We have a lot to catch up on.’

  ‘It’s only been three months, John. We have nothing to catch up on.’

  John Sommers was the only boyfriend Thea had ever dumped, and he’d made it as difficult as he could. And even then he’d refused to fully let her go.

  ‘We only dated for a year. It was nice for a while, but then I discovered we wanted different things from life. It took all my courage to tell you it was over.’ Hooking her bag onto her shoulder, Thea stood up. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you, John, but I couldn’t make myself love you. Nor could I mould myself into the woman you wanted me to be.’

  ‘You couldn’t then. I can see that.’ John’s expression became serious. ‘However, things are different now.’ He centred his attention on the bowl of sugar cubes in the middle of the table. ‘I’m extremely successful. I’ve taken a promotion which has brought me back, to Bath.’

  ‘Back to Bath?’ Thea held her jacket across her chest. ‘But you only moved to Newcastle two months ago.’

  ‘You remember the company I worked for here, Sure Digital?’

  ‘Of course I do! It’s all you ever talked about.’ Thea found herself reaching for the dregs of her coffee. ‘You only left them a couple of months ago.’

  ‘For a better post in Newcastle, yes…’ John’s eyebrows knitted together as he rubbed his chin. He looked like a caricature of someone trying to think. ‘With hindsight, I was unreasonable to expect you to come with me.’

  ‘You didn’t ask me to come with you!’ Thea regretted her reaction as soon as she saw the glimmer of hope flash in John’s eyes.

  ‘I should have said as soon as we got to the restaurant. I see that now. Just think of all the archaeology in the Northumberland and Tyneside area you could have explored up there.’

  Trying her best to follow John’s disjointed logic, Thea sat back down with a resigned sigh. ‘It would have made no difference. I have a life here. Anyway, I left you before you told me you were leaving.’

  John flapped the point away with a flick of his wrist. ‘It’s immaterial now, because Safe Hands Digital up north, and Sure Digital here, are merging. And guess whose old school friend needs someone to head up the merger and run the newly combined IT department?’

  Thea sighed into her cup. ‘I wonder.’

  ‘Exactly! Yours truly. So here I am, back where I belong, plus with a prestigious position within Sure Digital.’

  ‘You got a promotion because of who you knew from school?’ Disbelief robbed Thea of a more dynamic response.

  ‘I’m exactly the sort of man you need in your life if you’re going to continue pursuing a low-paid career path and pay rent in such an expensive area. With me, you’d never have to worry about money again. Sure Digital is going places, and I’m the man at the helm.’

  ‘I love my job and…’ Thea’s stuttered words faltered as she clutched her bag in front of her like a shield. ‘John, did you listen to a single word I said when we split up?’

  He gave her an encouraging smile. ‘I’ve thought very carefully about where I went wrong, and I’ve fixed it, so we’ll be alright now.’

  ‘Alright now?’ Thea shook her head. ‘How did you come to that conclusion? I’m sorry, John, but I meant what I said. I just don’t love you. It is over. We have split up, for all the reasons I gave in the restaurant—’

  ‘When you walked out in the middle of our first anniversary dinner.’

  Guilt made Thea’s freckled cheeks flush. She’d felt sick at the prospect of dumping him at the time, but as she’d sat, listening to him talk about their future, the house they’d have, the ‘jollies’ she’d go on when she accompanied him on business trips, and how in time they would need an au pair for their children – it had all felt too much.

  ‘I know my timing was terrible, John, but you freaked the hell out of me.’ Thea absent-mindedly played with the crumbs on her plate. ‘I’d been having an occasional night out with you, when you were in town – that’s all! I had no idea you were planning how we were going to spend the rest of our lives! It was like listening to you input my life onto a spreadsheet.’

  John brushed off her summary of their breakup. ‘Like I said, I realised I was being rather old-fashioned. Blame my parents. Mum always followed Dad everywhere. I assumed you’d do the same for me.’

  Thea opened her mouth to speak, but John held up his hand so he could finish. ‘I realise now I was being selfish. I should have listened when you said you need your career, so of course you can have it. When our children come along, we can always get some kind of childcare.’

  ‘Childcare?’

  ‘I know you want children one day, you told me.’

  ‘One day.’ Aware she was beginning to sound like a stunned parrot, Thea lifted her eyes from her plate and regarded John properly for the first time since he’d gate-crashed her lunch. ‘How did you know I’d be here?’

  ‘Oh, that’s easy. Your social media pages have pictures of you, and occasionally some other woman, sat here. There were comments about lunching near the abbey. It wasn’t hard.’ John looked pleased with himself as he added, ‘You’d be surprised what people give away about themselves on Facebook. You should be more careful, you know. This time it’s only me, but what if it was some kind of stalker?’

  Thea’s words came out slowly, as if they were battling through fog. ‘You’ve been watching me?’

  ‘Of course.’ He spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world. ‘We didn’t have time for a proper goodbye before I moved to Newcastle. I wanted to make sure you were alright.’

  ‘But I left you. I hurt you, not the other way around. I’m the last person you should care about. Why are you here?’

  ‘Because I miss you, silly.’ John beamed. Thea had the strangest idea he’d ruffle a hand through her hair if they hadn’t been in a public place. ‘I’m prepared to forgive you for making such a scene on our anniversary. So, let’s draw a line under that and start again. Where would you like to go for dinner tonight?’

  Two />
  April 4th

  Thea stared out of the attic bedroom’s small sash window, struggling to calm the apprehension which was making her stomach act as if it was a washing machine stuck on the spin cycle. Spotting a flash of blue among the tangle of overgrown hedges and leftover autumn leaves, she picked up her binoculars and focused on five azure petalled flowers, complete with hairy stems and oval leaves. A clutch of woodland forget-me-nots was winning the fight against the mass of undergrowth that connected the garden and the woods. It was the glimmer of hope Thea badly needed.

  Scanning the full sweep of the manor’s terrain, she hunted for more signs of life. Buds on assorted tree branches and rain-drooped Campanula soon filled the lenses and made her smile away some of her apprehension.

  The over-loud tick of the carriage clock, perched on the room’s unusable fireplace, broke into Thea’s moment of escapism. Turning to the rickety single bed, under which she’d stuffed the few belongings that had accompanied her from Bath, Thea wiped her perspiring palms down her jeans.

  What was wrong with her?

  She was used to having constant battles with her inner shyness and lack of confidence at work, but usually she won the fight. Since she’d taken the job at Mill Grange, however, her ability to hide her insecurities and self-doubt had deserted her in the face of the project’s established volunteers. Tonight, Thea was determined to change that. She had to, or there’d be no hope of finishing renovating the manor in the timeframe the Trust had given her.

  Jogging down the two sets of narrow Victorian backstairs to the kitchen, Thea resolved to pull herself together. ‘You’re a professional woman. You know what you’re talking about. You can do this.’

  Pushing open the narrow double doors towards the kitchen’s Aga hugging warmth, Thea sank into an oversized wingback armchair. Cocooning herself beneath a pile of throws, she critically examined the site of that day’s restorative activity.

  Two nearby seats, companions to the chair upon which she sat, gave off a satisfying aroma of buffed leather. Three kitchen shelves, which had been in danger of collapsing under the twin strains of damp and wear, had been replaced, and every cupboard was empty, ready to be washed out the following day. For now, Thea allowed her mind to skirt over the mountain of cupboard contents and ornaments which sat in random heaps on the dining room table.