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

the locals have all seen it, if you didn’t fit in. If you weren’t cut out to work with others and…’

Sophie sat down at the table with a thump, her elation dying. ‘You mean Mother was so sure I’d fail as an archaeologist – as a team player – that I’d just be the spoilt daughter of the manor and not fit in or mix or cope with being told what to do, that she’d get her way. Hence her agreeing to your deal.’

Lord Hammett looked worried as he saw Sophie’s face. ‘Aren’t you delighted? You proved your mother wrong. She’ll be cross, but not with you. She hates being wrong.’

‘But Mother’s right. I’ve been awful. Apart from the first couple of days and today I’ve been just like she said I would be.’

Thea put an arm around the young woman’s shoulders. ‘But today is what counts, because today is the day you have a job interview based on your work here.’

‘I have a what?’

Lord Hammett’s mouth dropped open. ‘Might be harder to convince my wife about a job for Sophie and to keep the site uncovered. Learn to pick your battles as my father would have said.’

‘That’s just it though, my Lord.’ Shaun looked at Sophie, trying to decide if she was really up to the job as Phil and Thea thought she was. ‘The two things are connected. The job depends on the church staying open. It also depends a lot on you and your wife’s willingness to work with the Cornish Heritage Trust when it comes to looking after St Guron’s.’

Lord Hammett stood up. ‘I think we’d better discuss this over a pot of tea.’

‘With Mother?’ Sophie’s expression was caught between hope and terror.

‘Of course. She has your best interests at heart, Sophie.’

‘Are you sure, Father?’

‘Well, she will have in a minute.’ He winked at Shaun and Thea. ‘Come on, everyone; let’s brave the ritual that is elevenses in the Hammett household. Bring your preconceptions with you.’

Forty-Three

September 26th

The last broken trestle table was heaped up in the corner of the stable, ready to be chopped into firewood. Bert and Sam had taken out more cobwebs than they cared to mention, along with broken chairs, decrepit tennis rackets and, from the stable’s forgotten past, a rotting leather bridle. As they rested on their brooms, the floor swept and clean, Bert surveyed a job well done.

Neither of them had mentioned that the force of the wind and rain had blown one side of the stable doors to. And while no one spoke of it, Sam felt he could pretend it wasn’t shut; while staying as close to its open brother as possible.

Noticing the door, but not wanting to flag up the situation, Bert dragged an unbroken chair from a set of three survivors and sat down. ‘Sorry I haven’t been up to see you since you got back from Malvern, lad. Been busy on the home front. Mabel tells me young Tina was delighted with how it went, although the journey was a touch chilly.’

‘Chilly is a kind way of putting it. We froze on the way and got drenched on the way back. She didn’t complain though.’

‘Of course she didn’t. Tina isn’t the whinging type. I hear you went into their kitchen.’

‘Just once.’

‘But you did it.’ Bert patted his shoulder. ‘So, how was meeting your father after so long?’

Sitting next to Bert, Sam pressed his gloved hands together to keep warm. ‘Surprisingly good. Frosty at first. Going inside – proving to him that I was working on my problem, certainly helped. He seemed as inflexible as always, but somehow… it’s hard to describe. He’d lost his bite.’

‘Age does that.’ Bert rested his kind eyes on Sam’s face. ‘You found him old, didn’t you?’

‘Did Tina tell Mabel about that?’

Bert chuckled. ‘Tina told Mabel hardly anything beyond your kitchen adventure, much to my good wife’s annoyance. She said it was your story to tell.’

‘Quoting you almost directly, Bert.’ Sam made a mental note to thank Tina later. It wasn’t easy to forestall Mabel when she was in inquisition mode. ‘It wasn’t just the noticeable difference in his physical condition though. He was more accepting of what I had been through. Like he’d stopped seeing it as failure. Looking back, it was when I told him about the mill fire that the day changed from a carefully worded fencing match, where he had the upper hand, to a score draw.’

‘Getting the girls out of the fire would impress anyone, even without them knowing about your past.’

‘It wasn’t done to impress, it was just instinct.’

‘And that’s the point.’ Bert patted Sam’s knee. ‘Your need to help overtook your fear. And, before you say it, it wasn’t just because it was Tina and Thea; you’d have done the same if it was anyone.’

‘Maybe.’

‘How did you leave the situation in Malvern?’

Sam sat up, his demeanour immediately more confident. ‘Not bad actually. Thea called us about the Landscape Treasures team still working hard to meet the filming date. That definitely piqued Father’s interest. And there was the orangery.’

Sam was telling Bert about the Edwardian-style greenhouse when Tom arrived with a flask of coffee, mugs and a cake tin. ‘Victuals from the bosses.’

Bert chuckled. ‘And there I was thinking I was talking to the boss right now.’

‘I’m glad you’re fitting in so well.’ Sam laughed as Tom pulled up the last chair.

‘The cake is an ulterior motive. I know it’s a cheek as I haven’t been here five minutes, but I’m hoping to persuade my ex to let me have Dylan at the weekend. I haven’t heard back from her yet, but if she agrees, would it be alright to bring him to the house? The pub isn’t really suitable beyond sleeping there, and my plan to take him exploring on the moor is looking dodgy with all this rain.’

‘No problem.’ Sam smiled. ‘All I ask is that Dylan is supervised; I’d hate him to hurt himself. Oh, and that he stays out of