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

in first. To explain herself and then ask him to leave, but the second the door shut behind them Tom pulled the note she’d left him from his pocket, and thrust it out towards her.

‘Well?’ He sounded angry, but his expression spoke of hurtful incomprehension. ‘Perhaps you could start by telling me why you chose to leave this rather than speak to me? Or maybe we should start with you telling me why Sam and Tina got a nice long letter and I got this pathetic excuse for a note? Or how you expected me to tell Dylan that one of his favourite people – that’s you – got up in the middle of the night and disappeared without saying goodbye to him?’

Helen’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Her eyes dropped to her coffee cup. The cookie has totally disintegrated and clung in unappealing clumps to the side of her mug.

‘Nothing to say?’ Tom crossed his arms.

‘How’s Dylan?’ Helen headed back towards the coffee machine.

‘If by that you mean, how is he taking you walking out; I haven’t told him yet. He is safe at the house with our friends.’

‘Right.’

‘That’s it?’ Tom found his resolution not to get angry fading. ‘You tell me you’re going to stay at Mill Grange, you give my son a gift that he treasures and then, five minutes later, you leave without a word.’

‘I told you in the note.’ Helen picked up some clean mugs, glad of the activity as she made two more coffees, even though she’d gone off the idea of drinking anything.

‘The note says nothing! Thea and Tina think you’re got it into your head that you aren’t good enough to help bring up Dylan! Talk about rubbish!’

‘What?’ Helen cheeks pricked with heat. ‘You talked to them about it?’

‘Of course I did! They’re our friends. I was going out of my mind.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh? Seriously? That’s it?’

‘Coffee?’ Helen held up a mug; her head started to thud. She’d been so sure they’d all understand; especially if Dylan had shown them his family painting too.

‘I don’t want anything other than an explanation.’

Suddenly exasperated; lack of sleep and food catching up with her, on top of the heart she’d broken for herself before Tom could do it for her, Helen sagged onto her desk. ‘Are you really going to make me say it, when you know how much it’ll hurt me?’

‘Say what?’ Tom’s anger dipped into confusion as he saw unshed tears welling in Helen’s eyes.

‘The reason behind all the furtive phone calls to Sue, and then… the painting. Dylan’s painting.’

‘Phone calls?’ More confused by the second, Tom said, ‘A couple were to Sue, but most weren’t. I’ve been helping Sam and his parents with wedding stuff.’

Helen’s pulse raced. ‘Wedding stuff?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you always moved away when you took them, like they were secret?’

‘They were – not from you specifically, but I promised Lord Malvern and Sam I’d help keep a few things a surprise until the big day.’

‘Oh.’ Feeling rather stupid, Helen shrugged. ‘Makes no difference anyway, not now.’

‘Not now, what?’

‘Now you’re getting back with Sue.’

Forty-two

Wednesday April 8th

‘Getting back with Sue?’ Tom was so stunned, not just by what Helen had said but by the certainty with which she’d said it, that he repeated the sentence twice.

‘You aren’t getting back with her?’

‘Not even if Hell froze over!’

‘But… Dylan said…’ Helen steadied herself against her desk as they confronted each other across the office.

‘What did Dylan say?’

‘That his mum wanted him to be part of a family again.’ Helen felt her head begin to thud. ‘And Sue did too. I heard her. She was speaking to you when she said, “I think we owe him some proper family time, don’t you?”’

‘When did she say that?’

‘Just before you went to Sybil’s with Dylan for a scone.’

‘Did she?’ Tom picked up the mug of coffee he hadn’t wanted. ‘And Dylan? When did he tell you Sue wanted to be a family again?’

‘When we were drawing the Easter egg map. What with that and your furtive calls, and then the painting…’ Helen sighed. ‘I can’t be the person who stops Dylan being with his parents. I love him far too much for that.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Tom gripped the mug tighter. ‘I just told you, the calls were for the wedding. Some were from Lord Malvern and some were Sam asking for help with Bert.’

‘Bert?’ Helen gave a ringlet of hair that had fallen across her face an agitated tug.

‘He needs a new suit, but he’s not well enough to go shopping yet. Sam asked me to arrange for a tailor to visit him at home.’

‘Oh.’

‘I would have told you, but we had Dylan with us all the time, and there’s a chance he’d have told Bert in his excitement. Five-year-olds are not the best at keeping secrets.’ Tom suddenly strode across the room and put his mug down on the desk next to Helen’s. Before he could stop himself, he’d reached out a finger and pushed the ringlet from her eyes. ‘I am not, nor will I ever, get back together with Sue. Okay?’

‘But the painting?’

‘The one Dylan did of Mill Grange? What about it?’

‘It was of you, Dylan and Sue. I know it’s natural for him to paint his parents, but…’

‘That wasn’t me, Dylan and Sue; it was me, Dylan and you.’ Tom was shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Sue was not amused when she saw how proud Dylan was of it. You should have seen her face when Dylan’s teacher told us it was to hang on the art room wall at school.’

‘Not Sue.’ Helen’s hands gripped the side of the desk.

‘Dylan didn’t say it was, did he?’ Tom pulled up the photograph of the painting on his phone and stared at it. ‘Look, he’s even got your bouncy hair right.’

Helen looked. ‘Kids always paint hair like that, don’t they?’

‘He didn’t paint his or mine like that though, did he?’

‘Well, no.’ Helen closed her eyes. She could feel the pulse in her fingertips