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

‘I was just thinking. Weddings are very emotional occasions. They make one think.’ She sprinkled some garlic into the pan. ‘Yes…’ she muttered to herself as she watched the mix begin to caramelise… ‘Yes, that might work.’

‘What might?’ Tina asked as Mabel stirred.

‘Best you leave it to me, Tina. It’s your wedding day, time to worry about yourself and Sam and let your mother-of-the-bride play fairy godmother.’

*

Bert couldn’t stop chuckling as Dylan ran around the room with a tape measure, fully endorsed by the tailor, James, who was obviously used to being helped by his client’s offspring.

Sam had been somewhat surprised to find the itinerant tailor was not an aging man in a well-cut suit, but a chap in his twenties in smart jeans and a shirt.

‘I can’t believe you arranged this for me, Sam.’ Bert held out an arm so that James could measure his underarm. ‘I was a bit concerned about letting you and Tina down.’

‘You could never do that.’

Bert chuckled. ‘You haven’t seen my original suit.’

‘I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.’ Sam smiled as James ducked under Bert’s arm and tackled his back.

‘Oh the suit’s fine, it’s me. I’ve shrunk! I’m sure it’s the fabric that is supposed to shrink in the wash and not the wearer, but there you go. That’s old age for you.’

Dylan sat on the sofa and looked up at his friend, his eyes wide. ‘Dad says you aren’t old, you just sat still and lots of life happened.’

Bert burst out laughing. ‘Did he now! Well, your dad might well be right. Where is Tom, by the way?’

‘Fetching his suit.’ Sam watched James as he moved around Bert, able to work as they chatted, being present but apart.

‘It’s at my house.’ Dylan twirled the tape measure around his wrist. ‘Mum had it in the attic.’

‘There.’ James jotted his last measurement into his tablet, and gestured for Bert to sit down. ‘All done, Mr Hastings. So, father of the bride. A proud moment.’

‘You have no idea.’ Bert’s eyes filled with tears, but he ignored them. ‘I’m in your hands, James. What colour would suit my suit?’

*

Shaun stared at the phone. He was finding it hard not to comment as he listened, but he’d promised the others he would keep his mouth shut until he’d heard the whole recording. Anyway, it was compelling listening. If he spoke, he might miss Julian digging himself deeper into a hole.

His urge to say “I told you so” to Thea when she’d explained, prior to Ajay playing the recording, that the promised business room had turned out to be an executive suite, with champagne laid on, had only been curtailed by the desolate expression on Thea’s face. For the first time, he noticed she was hurting as much as he was.

Shaun felt a stirring of remorse as he listened to Thea on the recording, telling Julian that it was him she loved. He risked a glimpse at her now, sat opposite him, her hands holding each other to hide the mild shake he knew would be there.

As they reached the end of the first part of the recording where Thea left for the bar, Ajay pressed pause. Silence coated the table for a moment, before Andy said, ‘This could end his career. His behaviour’s more prehistoric than any dig I’ve ever covered.’

Ajay nodded, but Thea just stared at the mobile on the table before them. She could feel the seconds ticking past as she waited for Shaun to say something.

When he did speak, Thea’s heart dropped lower. ‘I was right then. He does fancy you.’

The AA exchanged glances, before Ajay said, ‘No offence to Thea, but I don’t think so mate. He was just after being able to blackmail her, or buy her by getting his leg over. Not really the same thing.’

‘Arrogant git,’ Andy hissed, shifting in his seat as the atmosphere between Thea and Shaun thicken. ‘Maybe we should hear the rest?’

As Andy reached forward to press play, Thea realised she didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to see Shaun’s reaction to what came next. If, after listening, he wanted to find her, then fine, but even if he finally believed that she had done nothing to encourage Julian, it was going to take more than a sorry and a hug to sort them out.

She put her hand over her phone. ‘You’ve got the recording on your laptop haven’t you, Ajay?’

‘Sure.’

‘Then if you don’t mind, I’m very tired. I’m going to have a rest. If Julian needs more filming, give me a call.’

Then, without giving them time to reply, Thea left the pub, her heart thudding, but her head held high.

Fifty-three

Friday May 22nd

Tina had been up since five. The chickens had been cleaned and given strict instructions not to mess their coop up before tomorrow’s wedding. The kitchen had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life, and Sybil had been and gone, delivering a glut of double cream and jam, ready to accompany the scones she’d make the following day.

As the kitchen clock chimed ten o’clock, Mabel could be heard humming to herself as she made up some of the main guest bedroom, so that Sam’s parents had a place to change in once they arrived in the morning. The bathrooms had been cleaned, and the banister to the main staircase shone, giving out a deliciously comforting aroma of beeswax.

Filling a large teapot with boiling water, Tina experienced a sense of happy satisfaction. She was getting married tomorrow. Everyone who made up the wedding party was either there, or due by early morning. The weather forecast, although not foretelling bright sunshine, was claiming a dry spring day for the morrow.

Tom had taken charge of Bert and Dylan’s suits, which hung in the downstairs bedroom Tina usually shared with Sam. Her own dress, still at the boutique, would be collected by Thea that afternoon, along with the bridesmaid’s dresses; while Mabel had her mother-of-the-bride outfit under control.

Pouring some milk into