Autumn Leaves at Mill Grange by Jenny Kane (best free e reader .TXT) 📕

Ajay snorted. ‘Far from it. Thea is one of the country’s leading experts on Roman Britain. She has her own career helping to run a Victorian manor and its associated rare excavation site on Exmoor.’

‘Oh.’ Not sure what else to say, suddenly conscious of making a fool of herself, Sophie got back up, and headed towards the team she’d been working with all afternoon.

Andy and Ajay watched her go. Neither of them said anything, until Phil sat back with them, four pints on a tray. ‘What was that about? Not more trouble for the site I hope?’

‘For the site no; for Shaun, quite possibly.’ Andy picked up a pint. ‘Cheers, Phil.’

‘Why’s that then?’ The producer and director wiped a beer moustache from his upper lip as he contemplated getting up again and ordering some food.

‘Looks like our resident expert has the hots for our leading man.’

‘You’re imagining things.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Ajay had found the situation amusing at first, but now he wasn’t so sure. ‘Seems Sophie believed Shaun was single because he hasn’t appeared as part of a couple in any celebrity magazines.’

Andy glanced over at Shaun. He was laughing at something Thea was saying down the line. ‘Should we warn him do you think?’

‘I honestly don’t know.’ Ajay frowned.

‘Celebrity magazines!’ Phil groaned. ‘I thought she was a fan of the show? She must know this isn’t reality TV in the popular sense of the term.’

Ajay glanced over to where Sophie was chatting with the dig team. Every so often her eyes would veer to Shaun and then back again. I think I’d better keep an eye on that young lady, he thought.

Seven

September 3rd

Tina had been longing to spend the night in a proper bed for weeks. Now she was in one, she’d hardly slept a wink.

After checking the time on her mobile, she closed her eyes. It was just past four o’clock in the morning. Time’s wingèd chariot had clearly got a puncture in one of its tyres.

Staring at the ceiling, she pictured Sam snuggled up in his sleeping bag outside. Had he opened hers out as well, covering himself with it as an extra layer? Did he miss the warmth she provided? Perhaps he was sleeping soundly, and wasn’t missing her at all. Maybe he’d only liked her being there because she kept the tent toastier. Was she no more to him than an animated draught excluder?

Holding her pillow over her head, Tina groaned. She knew she was being unfair. Sam never saw her as anything other than who she was. So when he’d told her yesterday that he considered Mill Grange theirs rather than his, he’d meant it. And when Sam had talked about them being a couple for as long as Bert and Mabel, he’d also meant it. And then she’d gone and ruined it.

Feeling tears start to soak into the cotton of the pillowcase, Tina flung it to the side and took a deep breath. Sam hadn’t reappeared from wherever he’d gone for the rest of the day. When it had come time for the evening meal, Thea had wrapped him a plate of stew in several layers of tin foil and put it in the empty tent.

‘You tried to do a good thing, and if Sam ever lets you explain the whole story, he’ll see that too. You haven’t damaged the manor, destroyed the business or endangered a life.’ Tina’s words sounded hollow as they bounced off the walls of the attic room which, although technically her allotted bedroom, she’d only slept in once before. The majority of the possessions she’d brought with her from the house-share in Taunton remained piled up along the walls. Only three suitcases of clothes were open, her outfits piled, semi-neatly, inside; the cases’ lids sat propped against the wall’s lightly floral wallpaper.

‘Perhaps it all happened too soon for us? Maybe I should have stayed in Taunton and driven across each day and…’

Her words disappeared into a tissue as she gave her nose a blow, before wiping her eyes.

‘If Sam…’ Taking another shuddering breath, Tina flung back the bedcovers and placed her feet on the carpet. ‘If Sam won’t let me explain, and can’t see that my actions came from a good place, then he isn’t the man I thought he was anyway.’

Clenching her lips together, determined not to cry anymore, Tina tugged on a pair of socks. It had been odd lying in bed with just one pair of pyjamas on and no socks at all. Now she was up, however, the chill of the house quickly invaded her bones, and she was reminded of how early it was. The heating wasn’t due to come on until six, and even then, it took a while for the whole manor to feel the benefit.

‘You know Sam came back to the tent last night because Thea saw him crossing the garden at nine, so he’s safe. And as this is his house, then I don’t have to worry about him packing up his tent and disappearing for good.’

Pulling on yesterday’s clothes and an additional thick woollen jumper from the nearest suitcase, Tina scrubbed at her eyes one more time.

‘Wash face. Clean teeth. Head to kitchen. Make coffee. Make lemon cake.’

Repeating the instructions like a mantra, she crept along the corridor so she didn’t wake Thea in the next room, Tina completed her ablutions as fast as she could with the freezing water, and fled towards the ever-present heat of the kitchen’s Aga.

*

There was something soothing about adding eggs, sugar and flour together in the mixing bowl, along with a hefty helping of butter and a splash of milk. Tina went through her lemon-cake-making ritual with the confidence of someone who knew, whatever else she messed up in her life, she’d always be able to bake.

Pausing to grate the rind from a lemon, and then deciding to throw some orange peel into the mix as well for variety,