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

eyebrow towards the empty coffee mugs. ‘A top-up, or are you off to dig holes in the rain?’

Helen and Tom had been so deep in discussion about the site that the gathering rainclouds had passed by unnoticed. ‘Oh rats, I hadn’t noticed it was wet out,’ said Helen. ‘Do you want more coffee here or would you rather head to the house?’

‘Let’s stay here.’ Tom smiled at Sybil. ‘The coffee’s better, but don’t tell Mabel.’

‘My lips are sealed.’

‘And would you think me awfully cheeky if I asked to borrow pen and paper?’

‘Dreadfully.’

As Sybil zipped to the kitchen to sort out their order, Helen asked, ‘What’s the paper for?’

‘I’ve had some ideas about certificates and sponsorship that may or may not be helpful. We could make this a real working lunch. It would be good to have some ideas on paper to show Sam when he gets back.’

Helen made a space on the table so they could work once Sybil got back. ‘I’m so glad Thea called. I’ve not known how far to go with the site. It’s all been so uncertain.’

‘What did she say exactly, about the television coverage I mean?’

‘That they are only two days behind now, and catching up fast. The chances of them making it to Mill Grange are getting better, but nothing is guaranteed.’

‘That’s great.’ Tom didn’t sound convinced.

‘You wouldn’t want to appear on screen?’

‘No, but it’s a good idea for Sam. Get the place on the map. Anyway, the show will be about the excavation, not the likes of me.’

Biting the inside of her cheeks, Helen decided against sharing the knowledge that one of the reasons the money men had relented to the extra show was that it would promote them backing the rehabilitation of soldiers through archaeology.

Tom sat back so Sybil could refill their mugs and deposit an A4 pad and pen on the table. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Sybil bowed before heading to her next customer.

Tom picked up his mug. ‘Why do you think the fortlet was built there in the first place?’

Helen, who’d been considering the question ever since she set eyes on the geophysics results, dropped a sugar cube into her coffee. ‘It has to be the elevated position. I haven’t had the chance to study the oldest geological surveys as much as I’d like to, but I doubt there was as much woodland back then. The view across the moor and down to the rivers was probably clear, making Upwich the perfect spot to build a defensive outpost. I suspect that Upwich village was either a direct result of the fortlet being here, or that there was a small pre-Roman dwelling that grew as a result of trade with the fortlet.’

‘Makes sense.’ Tom drew a makeshift circle on the paper and labelled it ‘Fortlet’, before adding a squiggly line. ‘Would you say the River Barle was roughly there?’

‘Yes, and then, about three centimetres away on this rough scale would be the Tarr Steps, which would have been in place across the Barle.’

‘Another plus in the fortlet’s favour. A pre-existing river crossing.’ Tom took a sip of coffee before asking, ‘And the nearest Iron Age hillfort to here, that’s at Brewer’s Castle, near Ashwick, right?’

‘That’s close certainly, but the nearest is almost on top of us.’ Helen pointed in the direction of a stretch of woodland nestling on the other side of the road to Mill Grange ‘Oldbury Castle. Iron Age again, and largely ploughed out now. You can just imagine how they must have felt watching the Romans arrive and the fortlet being built.’

‘Terrified, I suspect.’ Tom drew a rough circle on the map, marking it ‘Oldbury’.

‘And don’t forget all the individual barrows and standing stones on Exmoor. Especially the Wambarrows.’

‘The what?’ Tom glanced up from where he’d been adding woodland to the map. Helen was a different woman when she was talking about her passion. She’d stopped trying to make her hair flatter, and the lines that had furrowed her forehead and creased her freckles were completely gone. Her eyes shone. They were almost emerald.

Oblivious to Tom’s appreciative gaze, Helen told him about the local ancient monuments. ‘The Wambarrows are three Bronze Age bowl barrows over on Winsford Hill, about seven miles away. They form part of a barrow cemetery. There are loads of others as well. The West Anstey Barrows, Twitchen Barrows, and so on.’

‘And there I was thinking Dylan might get bored with me at the weekends. I knew there was a lot to explore, but I hadn’t realised how close to Upwich everything was.’

‘The placing of the fortlet has to have been influenced by the presence of so much earlier activity.’ Helen almost asked about Dylan, but decided to stick to safer ground. ‘You were saying about having some ideas for the certificate?’

*

Coffee, Tina noted, was served in sturdier china than the wafer-thin ceramics that tea came in at Malvern House. Still a million miles from chunky mugs, the cups rested easily in the hand. Tina would have put money on Bea having chosen them. They were tasteful yet practical. A lot like her.

‘Sponsorship then, son.’ Lord Malvern lifted his cup to his lips. ‘How do you imagine it working?’

‘The fine details will need ironing out once we get the paperwork from Landscape Treasures, but we hope they’ll agree to provide the bulk of the equipment we need. Trowels, ranging rods, shovels, sieves, and so on, in return for having their logo on the bigger items.’

‘And if they dig as well, time allowing, they’ll pay a fee?’ Lord Malvern’s coffee cup paused en route to his lips. ‘Which could go towards the repair the greenhouse?’

‘Maybe.’ Sam nodded. ‘And just think how often the old episodes of Landscape Treasures are repeated. It’s positive marketing for life.’

Tina added, ‘According to Thea, the producer particularly liked the fact that although any potential sponsorship won’t bring them heaps of publicity, they’d be supporting recovering military personnel.’

‘And be seen to be supporting recovering military personnel,’ Lord Malvern responded.

‘Oh don’t be so