Spring Blossoms at Mill Grange by Jenny Kane (fiction books to read .txt) 📕

explained the evolution of the most famous of all Roman accommodation types.

‘Here you go, mate.’ Andy dropped a file in front of Shaun. ‘The updated scripts for today.’

‘Updated?’ Shaun flicked open the file. ‘I haven’t done anything beyond the episode’s introduction yet.’

‘Apparently Julian has lots of ideas.’

‘I bet he does,’ Shaun muttered as he scanned through the papers.

Returning to the geophysics plans that he and Ajay had been particularly excited about, Andy asked, ‘What do you think? Private bath house for the villa’s owner and guests?’

‘What?’

‘Are you with me, Shaun?’ Andy tapped a finger on the plans. ‘Possible bath house?’

‘Yeah. Very probably.’

‘I bet Thea will be keen on that.’

Tearing his eyes away from where his girlfriend was working, Shaun sighed. ‘Sorry mate. Yes, bath house. Thea will be extremely interested.’

‘Julian obviously thinks it is too, look.’ Andy turned a page over in the script folder. ‘He’s got her talking about bathing ritual and routines for quite a while.’

‘So he has.’ Shaun’s mouth went dry.

‘You might actually get to do some proper archaeology this time. Looks like Thea has most of the screen time. Julian must have been impressed by the bits and pieces she did to camera for the Mill Grange Christmas episode.’

‘Of course!’ Shaun groaned at his own stupidity. ‘He’s seen her before, but she hadn’t seen him.’

‘You’ve lost me, mate.’

‘Julian, did he know Thea and I were a couple?’

‘Sure.’ Andy fired up his laptop ready to process some more results. ‘Ajay and I told him when we arrived yesterday. I got the impression he already knew though. I assumed you, Thea, or Phil would have told him.’

‘Right.’

‘You okay?’

‘Didn’t get much sleep.’

‘Lucky devil.’ Andy winked as he clicked through to the page on his computer he wanted.

Shaun mumbled, ‘Not really, mate.’

*

Lady Bea oozed excitement down the phone line as she reacted to Sam telling her they’d set the wedding date for May 23rd.

‘May is a wonderful month to marry in. I can just picture Tina standing in the hallway in a gorgeous dress waiting to be escorted to the church. Perhaps she could go by horse and carriage! Now we have a solid date to work with, I can give the vicar a call. I’ll do it as soon as I’m off the phone. He gets booked up, especially in early summer. And then…’

Sam’s heart sank. His mother was talking ten-to-the dozen. Her joy radiated down the line. Trying hard to cut into her stream of words, hating that he was about to crush her dream, Sam knew he had to finish telling her about the rest of their wedding plans before she put her preconceptions in motion.

‘Mum!’

‘Sorry, Sam. I’m just so excited. I can’t wait. It’s been years since Malvern House saw a wedding and—’

‘Mum!’ Sam realised he’d shouted, and lowered his tone. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, but you’re getting a bit carried away.’

‘I am, aren’t I?’

Sam could picture Lady Bea on the other end of the line. She’d be perched on the Chesterfield that had been known as the telephone chair ever since he was little boy.

‘I’m glad you’re excited, Mum. Tina and I are too, but, the thing is—’

‘What? What’s the thing? Is everything okay? I know Tina hasn’t got any parents of her own so, we thought that…’

Sam shook his head. His normal, calm, placid mother had turned into a mass of wedding anxiety, the likes of which neither he, nor Tina, had come anywhere near exhibiting.

‘Please, Mum. Everything is alright. Tina’s fine, I’m fine, but this is our wedding, and as you said, Tina hasn’t got parents, but she is the bride-to-be. Old fashioned though it sounds, I want her to choose where to marry and what sort of wedding we have so—’

‘You mean you might not marry here?’ Lady Bea’s voice cracked, but Sam heard her quickly rally. ‘I admit I’d assumed that you would, but… Could you ask her if that would be something she’d consider?’

‘Alright, Mum, but to be honest, Tina is pretty set on marrying here. Our friends here are the closest thing she has to a family.’

‘Well yes, I can see that, but we’re your actual family Sam, and we have traditions.’

Surprised by how much like his father she suddenly sounded, Sam was lost for words as his mother added, ‘I’m just asking that you explain to Tina that all your ancestors, male and female, have married at Malvern House in Worcestershire. We’d very much like you, as our third son, to continue that tradition.’

The line went silent. Sam was stunned. He’d never heard his mother sound so inflexible about anything before. Until Tina had come along, he’d been estranged from his parents, particularly his father. But Tina had fixed that, and over the past few months an increasingly relaxed relationship had existed between them.

It hadn’t occurred to Sam that he’d be expected to marry at their home. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he opened them, the sunlight that poured through the roof of his tent in Mill Grange’s gardens made him blink. Spring had arrived in earnest. Until his phone call, he’d been as optimistic as the budding daffodils that lined the driveway. Now he felt a sense of foreboding.

Did he upset the parents he’d only recently been reconciled with, or his future wife?

Six

Thursday March 19th

Helen brushed the mud off her palms and straightened up from the trench in which she’d been kneeling. The retreat guest she was working with, a chirpy former Marine called Pete, smiled broadly as he shook his head.

‘I could do this when I was digging on the pretend site. I’m all fingers and thumbs now it’s for real.’

Helen was reassuring. ‘Everyone’s the same, don’t worry.’

Shuffling backwards, Pete held his trowel out before him, gingerly resting its long side edge against the earth.

‘That’s it. Now if you keep the trowel at that angle, and ease it backwards you’ll get a nice clean sweep. That way it takes just a fraction of soil away at a