Spring Blossoms at Mill Grange Read online

  Also by Jenny Kane

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  SPRING BLOSSOMS AT MILL GRANGE

  Jenny Kane

  AN IMPRINT OF HEAD OF ZEUS

  www.ariafiction.com

  First published in the United Kingdom in 2021 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd

  Copyright © Jenny Kane, 2021

  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.

  E ISBN 9781838938130

  PB ISBN 9781800246058

  Cover design © Cherie Chapman

  Aria

  c/o Head of Zeus

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  5–8 Hardwick Street

  London EC1R 4RG

  www.ariafiction.com

  To secret benches and hidden doorways.

  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 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

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-one

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Become an Aria Addict

  Prologue

  Monday March 9th

  Helen cradled the stone in her palm. The size of a cookie, grey in colour, it was jagged on one side and smooth on the other. Once upon a time it had been part of the bedrock; a tiny fragment of the geology that had formed the basis of the village of Upwich and its surrounds. Now, however, it felt like the most precious possession she’d ever owned.

  She hadn’t had the heart to tell Dylan that it wasn’t an exciting find from the Roman fortlet they were excavating in Mill Grange’s garden. The five-year-old had been so thrilled to be able to help his dad, Tom, when they’d peeled the tarpaulin off the archaeological site after a frosty winter, that when he’d picked up the stone and run to her, his face wide with pleasure, she’d held it with a reverence normally reserved for the crown jewels.

  The boy’s eyes had got wider and wider as she’d told him about the land beneath Exmoor, how it had formed, and how the stone he’d found was part of that.

  Helen had been conscious of Tom’s eyes on her as his son had sat on her knee and listened with rapt attention to every word she said.

  Laying the stone back on her desk, tucked neatly in the corner of the store room, Helen sighed. She had come to Mill Grange to take a break from the pressures of her management job. She had not come to fall in love – especially not with Tom – a man with a horrendous track record with woman – and a son.

  One

  Monday March 16th

  ‘Do you honestly think I’ll need eighteen pairs of knickers? It’s the Cotswolds, not the Kalahari.’

  Thea scooped the entire contents of her underwear drawer onto the bed as Shaun flung open a suitcase.

  ‘No, I think you’ll need thirty pairs or more, but as you only have eighteen, then pack them.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Thea eyed some of her older undies with suspicion. The greying fabric had been consigned to the back of the drawer to be used in emergencies only, although now she thought about it, she wasn’t sure what that emergency might be. An archaeological excavation in the middle of nowhere, perhaps?

  ‘You know what it’s like on a dig. Laundry facilities only happen to other people. A flushing toilet can be a luxury sometimes.’

  ‘Won’t the local village have a launderette?’

  ‘It’s the Cotswolds, Thea. The people who can afford to live there don’t need launderettes.’ Shaun winked. ‘I tend to wring out my smalls in the nearest public toilet sink or a bucket of cold water.’

  Thea laughed. ‘I used to do that when I was a student on excavation.’ Stuffing every pair of socks she owned into the suitcase, she added, ‘Age has softened me!’

  ‘You’ve got used to manor house living, that’s what it is.’ As Shaun threw a pile of t-shirts onto the bed, he caught a glimpse of anxiety crossing Thea’s face. ‘I was only joking. It’s not like student times. We get a catering truck, posh tents and Portaloos. The only thing we don’t have is regular access to a washing machine.’

  Holding a thick jumper to her chest, Thea pulled a face. ‘I’m not worried about knickers or having our own bathroom or anything like that. It’s just… what if the show’s new producer hates me? Phil gave me the job as co-host of Landscape Treasures because of the work I did for you in Cornwall, but the new guy… is it a guy?’

  ‘It is. A bloke called Julian Blackwood. I’ve not worked with him before, but I’ve heard he’s good.’

  ‘Well, what if this Julian takes one look at me and decides to trade me in for a younger model? I’m thirty-three for goodness sake, that’s ancient in female telly present land.’

  ‘Then he’d be a fool. Anyway, that attitude, thank goodness, is gradually dying off. And if he was a “pretty young thing” bloke, rather than a “pretty thirty-something with experience and talent” type of chap, then he’d lose your skills and my respect. Which, as I’m the show’s presenter, would be pretty stupid.’

  ‘That’s the o
ther thing.’

  ‘What is?’ Shaun threw a mountain of socks into the case, many of which, Thea was convinced she’d never seen before.

  ‘I don’t want the guest-presenter role just because I’m your partner. Some of the archaeologists are bound to think that’s why I got it. If Phil only gave me the job because—’

  Raising a hand to stop the fear he’d heard Thea utter at least once a week since Landscape Treasures had asked her to appear as their Roman expert for the next series’ opening episode, Shaun said, ‘You got the job because you are good at it. End of. Now, if you put all the clothes you want to take on the bed, I’ll finish packing them so you can go and say goodbye to Tina and Helen. Go to Sybil’s or something. It’ll be a while before you have a scone as good as one from her café.’

  *

  ‘There is something rather delicious about sneaking off for morning coffee on a work day.’ Tina raised her coffee cup in salute to Thea and Helen as they waited for Sybil to deliver a round of her famous cheese scones.

  ‘I ought to be scraping a ton of mud off the shovels ready for the new guests this afternoon,’ Helen dropped a sugar cube into her mug, ‘but I can live with the guilt.’

  Looking at her two friends across the Spode covered, table, Thea smiled. ‘I’m going to miss you two.’

  ‘You’re only going for eight weeks. Anyway, you’ll be far too busy being famous to miss the likes of us,’ Helen gave her a friendly nudge, ‘and too knackered from all the digging to notice the time passing.’

  Thea laughed, ‘The famous bit I doubt, the knackered bit I can’t argue with. I ache enough after a day helping you and Tom on our fortlet, these days. A full eight week dig with television cameras watching my every move is going to kill me.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ Tina looked up as Sybil arrived at their table, ‘I swear your scones smell more delicious every time we come in here.’

  Sybil rolled her eyes, ‘Praise indeed seeing as at least one of you – Thea – is here every other day testing the merchandise.’

  Thea stuck out her tongue. ‘Well, the chicken’s eggs need delivering. It would be rude to walk all this way and not sample the goods.’

  ‘It’s a twenty-minute walk! You make it sound like you need Kendal Mint Cake and crampons!’

  ‘I’m going to miss your cooking almost as much as I’ll miss you, Sybil.’

  Picking up a large paper bag from where she’d placed it on the next table, the café owner passed it to Thea. ‘Well, these should keep you going for a while at least.’

  Having peeped inside the top of the bag, Thea got up and gave Sybil a hug. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I didn’t want Shaun to go without my scones either.’

  ‘Shaun?’ Thea laughed. ‘If you think a bag of your scones will last long enough to share with him, you are under a serious misconception!’

  Watching Sybil skip off to her next customer, Thea was suddenly emotional. She was only going away to work for a while, and she was going with the man she loved, yet it felt as if she was leaving Mill Grange for good.

  Cradling the warm paper bag, Thea realised with a start that it had been almost a year since she’d first arrived at the manor house where she, Tina, Sam, Helen, Tom and Shaun – when he wasn’t away filming – lived. Along with their friends, Mabel and Bert, they ran the manor as a retreat for former military personnel recovering from various injuries and debilitating experiences. Part of that recovery therapy included working on uncovering a Roman Fortlet that she and Shaun had found in the manor’s garden.

  The excavation, a rare find for Exmoor, an area of Britain which the Romans had hardly touched, was a popular choice of work for Mill Grange’s visitors. In fact, it was so much in demand that, now the digging of the site was almost complete, they’d set up a fake dig so that their visitors could still learn archaeological techniques during their stay.

  Having worked for years as an archaeologist and historian at the Roman Baths in Bath alongside Helen, Thea was finding the dual challenges of running a manor house, being host to guests, and co-managing a dig, immensely rewarding. So why am I going to the Cotswolds to be a TV presenter?

  ‘Thea? Are you with us?’ Tina pushed a plate in her friend’s direction. ‘Your scone has been sat in front of you for over thirty seconds and you haven’t pounced.’

  ‘I just realised it’s a year since I first came to Mill Grange to help do the place up.’

  ‘Oh my goodness! Already? We should celebrate!’ Tina raised her cup in salute. ‘So much has happened since then.’

  ‘Including your engagement to Sam!’ Thea cut her scone in half, inhaling the rich aroma of vintage cheese and cayenne pepper. ‘I feel awful for not being around to help you arrange it.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Sam and I intend to keep things very simple.’

  ‘Simple sounds good,’ Thea tilted her head to one side, ‘but is that what you want or what Sam wants? I remember a Tina Martin who wanted to get married in satin lace and diamonds at Westminster Abbey.’

  ‘I wasn’t quite that bad. I’d have settled for St Paul’s Cathedral.’

  Helen’s eyebrows rose. ‘I can’t imagine you wanting an all-the-trimmings type wedding Tina.’

  ‘Before I met Sam, I was a bit lost bloke wise. Couldn’t see the kind hearts for the gold cufflinks.’ Tina happily scooped up some extra butter. ‘A marquee on the lawn at Mill Grange, with all our friends and Sam’s family will suit us just fine.’

  ‘With Sam’s claustrophobia, that sounds wise. How is that now?’ Thea dabbed up a stray scone crumb. ‘I know he sleeps in the downstairs bedroom when we don’t have guests with mobility issues, but is there any progress on him facing the stairs and the attics yet?’

  Tina shook her head, her mouth too full to speak.

  ‘He’ll get there, you’ll see.’

  ‘He will,’ Helen agreed. ‘Got a date sorted for the wedding yet?’

  ‘I wanted a May date so we can have a couple more months to concentrate on getting the retreat running on track, plus the gardens here look wonderful in late spring. The local registrar can do the sixteenth or twenty-third of May, so we’ve gone for the twenty-third. As it’s a Saturday, we won’t have guests in the manor to worry about at the same time.’

  ‘Surely you’ll close Mill Grange to visitors for a few days?’ Helen poured everyone a top up of coffee from the pot. ‘Or maybe not, it’s a new business after all.’

  ‘Precisely. We want to keep closed days to the minimum. Bookings have been improving steadily, but they are non-existent over the Easter period at the moment, so we will probably close that week in April. We can do most of our wedding planning then. Then we’ll close the week of the actual wedding.’

  Helen wiped a finger around her buttery plate. ‘What week is Easter this year?’

  ‘Works out from the eleventh to the twentieth, if you include weekends. It’s a bit of a long time to be closed to be honest, but if we have no bookings then…’

  Thea suddenly sat up straight. ‘Helen, that’s when your birthday is, you’re going to be—’

  ‘Yes. I know.’ Waving her hand, as if to brush away the fact of another passing year, Helen asked, ‘What time are you and Shaun leaving?’

  ‘Oh no you don’t. No sidestepping the issue, Helen Rogers!’

  ‘What is it?’ Tina asked.

  ‘Helen’s fortieth birthday is during the Easter break. The twelfth of April.’

  Helen sighed. ‘I was hoping it would go away if I didn’t think about it.’

  ‘But don’t you want to celebrate?’ Tina added a dollop of butter to her final mouthful of scone. ‘We could have a party.’

  ‘Hell no!’ Helen looked horrified. ‘I just want to crawl under the bed and forget about it. I’m going to be forty and I’ve done nothing with my life.’

  ‘Apart from manage the Roman Baths for almost two decades and be one of the most respected Roman archaeologists and historians on the circuit!’ Thea paused, before
adding, ‘I bet Tom will want to celebrate it. And let’s not forget Dylan! Any chance for balloons and birthday cake.’

  Guessing that Tom – and the fact he hadn’t made any move on her despite obviously being besotted – was at the heart of Helen’s discomfort over her forthcoming birthday, rather than the fact she was a year older, Thea let her off the hook. ‘If you change your mind, let me know. I’d better get back. I’ve left Shaun packing our clothes.’

  ‘Seriously?’ This time it was Tina who looked horrified. ‘If I left Sam packing for me, I’d end up with buckets of underwear and very little else.’

  Thea laughed. ‘Well that’s young love for you. Makes you blind to the need for woolly jumpers, don’t you think, Helen?’

  She gave a brave smile. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

  Two

  Monday March 16th

  As Shaun’s car drove away, Thea waving madly through the passenger window, Tina threaded her arm through Sam’s.

  ‘I know it’s only for a couple of months, but it’s going to feel strange without Thea here.’

  ‘It will.’ Sam kissed the top of his fiancée’s head. ‘And even though Shaun’s only here on and off, I’ve got used to him being around too.’ He smiled at Helen and Tom, who were propped against the side of the manor. ‘You guys up for a quick staff meeting? I’ve got a couple of things I’d like to discuss before today’s guests arrive.’

  ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on.’ Helen pulled herself away from the wall. ‘Where do you want to meet?’

  ‘The walled garden.’ Sam grinned mischievously as he turned to Tom. ‘Would you mind helping me carry a couple of trestle tables over?’

  ‘No problem.’

  Tina tilted her head to one side. ‘What are you up to, Samuel Philips?’

  ‘You’ll see.’ He winked. ‘Fancy bringing one of your delicious lemon cakes? Oh, and some apple slices for the chickens? Gertrude and Mavis would never forgive us if we entered their domain without treats.’

  *

  Helen had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard the quiet sobs until her feet were almost on the kitchen’s threshold.