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

Thea dropped the cloth she was using to wipe the window sill for a moment. ‘We thought we’d crack on. It’s like old times getting the house ready for the public.’

‘Thanks everyone.’ Tina gave Thea an appraising look. She hadn’t expected to see her. She’d also expected puffy eyes and signs of strain. ‘Are you okay, Thea?’

Getting closer to her friend, Thea muttered, ‘Nope, but I’m tired of moping. So, I’m getting on with what needs getting on with – if you see what I mean.’

‘I do indeed.’ Tina inhaled the scent of beeswax polish that now hung around the room. ‘Weather forecast is good for the weekend, so looking positive for hiding the eggs outside.’

‘Dylan is looking forward to hiding them all,’ Mabel mused. ‘He was going to do it with Helen, but…’

‘I’m sure he’ll have fun anyway.’ Thea exchanged a look with Tina. ‘In the meantime, it’s all systems go for Easter Sunday, and, with the wedding just over a month away, it’s all systems go for that too. Both bridesmaids and the best man are detailed to be back here on the day.’

‘The best man?’ Mabel paused in the act of dusting.

‘Shaun’s had to go back to the Cotswolds ready for the next part of the dig.’ Thea hoped she sounded breezy. ‘I have to go back on Tuesday as well, but we’ll be here for the wedding.’

Diane was almost jumping up and down. ‘It’s so exciting! Where are you going on honeymoon, Tina?’

‘We aren’t.’ Tina’s smile weakened. She’d been trying very hard not to think about that. ‘With Sam’s claustrophobia, hotels and unknown places are out so we thought we’d save the money and have a holiday in a few years’ time, when Sam’s a bit better.’

*

Tom swept his phone from the side of the dig as soon it rang. He expected it to be either Sue or Helen. He licked his lips, ready for either a row or a difficult conversation – but it was a number he didn’t recognise.

‘Hello. Tom Harris speaking.’

‘Mr Harris, forgive the interruption, it’s Charles Phillips. I hope you don’t mind, but I wondered if you could do me a favour…’

Forty-eight

Sunday April 12th

Helen yawned as she pulled the Land Rover up the drive at Mill Grange. It was only eight in the morning, but she’d promised Dylan she’d be there for the whole day so, not wanting to risk getting caught up in the Easter Sunday traffic, she’d left Bath just before six.

She was surprised at how quiet it was. She’d expected the Easter egg hunt signs to already be up, and Dylan running around with armfuls of chocolate.

Feeling a little like she was trespassing, Helen wasn’t sure if she should just stroll on in as she always had, or if she should go to the front door and knock. She headed to the kitchen door anyway, hooking her overnight bag on her shoulder as she went.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, she knew why the drive was deserted. Everyone was in the kitchen. The chatter and laughter floating along the corridor knocked away a little of the strangeness she felt at not knowing which bedroom she was supposed to leave her stuff in. I can’t share with Tom, he’s with Dylan.

Dylan. She couldn’t believe what Tom had told her. No; that wasn’t true. She could believe it – she just didn’t want to. The thought of Mill Grange without Dylan…

Don’t think about that now. This is Dylan’s day. It is him you are here for. Nothing else.

Taking a deep breath Helen called out, ‘Hello! Is it okay to come in?’

The response was instant. Dylan shot out of the kitchen, closely followed by Tom and Thea.

‘Can I say it first, Dad, can I?’

‘Say what?’ Helen hooked Dylan up into her arms, and held him tight.

‘Happy Birthday!’

Helen cuddled him closer, inhaling the scent of his freshly washed hair. Her reply of ‘Thank you, Dylan’ was lost as a mumble in his shoulder, before he started to wriggle like a jumping cracker.

Letting him drop to the floor, Helen found her hand engulfed in his as she was tugged into the kitchen. She looked at Tom, who mouthed ‘Happy birthday, darling,’ as she was towed forwards.

‘Surprise!’ Mabel, Thea, Tom, Sam, Tina and Bert chorused, as Dylan pushed Helen onto a seat and climbed onto her lap.

The kitchen table was heaped with more birthday presents than Helen had had in the last decade’s birthdays combined. A bunch of six balloons sat as a centre piece and a large lemon cake with four lit candles was positioned at the end.

‘I-I don’t know what to say,’ Helen stuttered. ‘Thank you.’

‘No need for thanks, lass.’ Bert waved from his seat at the head of the table. ‘Your birthday gave me an excellent excuse to leave the house. Thought I was going to be stuck on that sofa forever!’

‘It’s so good to see you, Bert. You look well.’

‘I am well. Just slow. Darn slow… hate that!’

Dylan giggled. ‘Bert said a bad thing, Dad!’

Tom rolled his eyes. ‘And I’m sure Bert is very sorry. Aren’t you, Bert?’

‘Whoops, yes. Very sorry.’ Bert winked at Dylan. ‘Now come on lass, open these pressies. We’ve got an Easter egg hunt to prepare!’

*

An hour later, stuffed with lemon cake, her cards all lined up on the table before her, a mountain of wrapping paper at her feet Helen was overwhelmed and incredibly happy.

When she’d woken up that morning, her first thought had been that Tom wasn’t there. Her second had been that she was forty years old. This second thought had made the first infinitely worse.

Deciding she’d done enough wallowing over the past week for a lifetime, Helen pushed down her feelings about waking up alone on her fortieth birthday, and focused on the day ahead. It hadn’t occurred to her that her friends would remember her birthday, not with the Easter egg hunt, the wedding, Bert being unwell and now Dylan’s imminent departure.

Deep down though, she’d hoped