Autumn Leaves at Mill Grange by Jenny Kane (the little red hen ebook .txt) 📗

Loving her friend for her concern, Thea gave up trying to remove the final layer of ingrained dirt and dried her hands. ‘If they were insulted by the prospect, then they wouldn’t have come.’

‘I suppose not.’

‘And you said they were laughing; so they are obviously friendly.’

‘Yes, but they tease each other. I hate teasing – you know that. It makes me uncomfortable.’ Tina threw six teabags into an industrial-sized pot. ‘I hadn’t considered that side of it; the joking and private camaraderie. I already feel in the way. And what will happen if they fall out? If there’s a row, I’ll automatically think it’s my fault, because I always think rows are my fault, and that will create an atmosphere and…’

‘They won’t row, and if they do, it won’t be anything to do with what you have, or haven’t, done.’ Suspecting she might feel the same about the teasing, and hoping it wouldn’t show, Thea stuck another mug on the tray. ‘I’ll come with you. I ought to say hello, and as tempting as it is to get back to digging the new veg garden, the late British summer has decided it’s had enough for this afternoon and has gone to bed early.’

‘Raining?’ Tina turned to look out of the window behind her, just as large spots of water pattered against the panes. ‘That’s a shame. I thought I’d take everyone to meet the chickens.’

‘Hon, a bit of rain isn’t going to bother folk who have fought the Taliban.’

‘Good point, well made.’ Tina blushed at her naïveté. ‘Come on then, better bring biscuits. The big tin.’

September 8th

‘Why Woody?’

Tina felt herself starting to relax as she passed her companion a basket so he could help collect that morning’s eggs.

Momentarily surprised, he tapped each leg with the basket, resulting in two dull thuds. ‘False legs. Not wooden of course, but “Prosthetic-ally” or “Metally” doesn’t have the same ring to it, and the services do like a nickname.’

‘I’m so sorry, I…’ Tina groaned. ‘It was a stupid question.’

‘Not at all.’ Woody flexed his knees. ‘While Woody’s not exactly original, it could be a lot worse.’ Woody pointed to the cockerel. ‘How about that fine fellow? What’s his name?’

‘Tony Stark.’

‘Now that is a good name.’ Laughing, Woody turned so his back was resting against the coop fence; he stared up the slope of the garden towards the house, his expression telling Tina he approved of the scene. ‘What Sam’s doing here, it’s a good thing, you know. There aren’t many places like this. Hospitals yes, counsellors yes – although not enough. The majority of those poor devils are so overloaded with work that they need counselling themselves to cope with what they hear. But this is going to be something special.’

‘I hope so.’

‘But you’re uncomfortable with us: myself, Ann and Dave I mean.’

The statement, kindly spoken, had no judgement in it, yet Tina felt herself shrinking into herself. ‘I’m not, I’m… You’re all lovely and kind and I’m so glad you like the place but…’

‘Go on. I promise we’ll all have heard worse and survived.’

Watching Gertrude, who was clucking encouragingly in her direction, Tina jumped on the opening Woody had given her. ‘That’s just it you see. You have survived so much worse. More than most human beings would be able to get their heads round. I can’t stop feeling we’re using you as an experiment here.’

Woody looked amazed as he regarded his friend’s partner anxiously twirling her pigtails through her fingers. ‘I bet you did that at school when you had to do something you were nervous about.’

‘Sorry?’

‘The pigtail twisting.’

‘I did actually.’ Tina laughed. ‘Displacement probably. It drove my mum mad.’

‘Sam’s a lucky man to have you.’ Woody focused his eyes on Mill Grange as the rain clouds blew overhead and away across to the heart of the moor. ‘It takes guts to admit you’re uncomfortable. It takes guts to do something like this.’

Tina noted an edge of sadness to Woody’s voice as he went on. ‘Sam asked us to come and help him out and we all said yes. He’s come so far from when we met him outside the rehab centre after our various… mishaps.’

‘Outside the centre?’ Tina asked. ‘He wouldn’t even go inside there?’

‘Couldn’t, rather than wouldn’t. It’s not so unusual. There was a large shelter in the gardens. Like a garage with no back or door. Sam and another guy, I forget his name, slept in there, in bunks.’

‘That’s a brilliant idea.’ Tina was already picturing where they could build such a shelter for future guests as she said, ‘I wondered how he’d managed back then, with going inside for therapy I mean. He doesn’t talk about it much.’

‘Why would he want to discuss the past when he has all this future to plan and enjoy? You can’t go back, Tina. If we could everyone would call me Will, not Woody.’

‘That’s your real name? I like it.’

‘Me too, but I’ve been Woody for so long now, that sometimes I forget.’

‘I’ll call you Will, if you’d prefer it?’

Woody winked. ‘I would, but the others will take the piss.’ Seeing her wince at the thought, he added, ‘It’s not unkindness on their part, just a survival thing. Like you twisting your hair into knots. Fake names hide things.’ He paused. ‘You aren’t used to people teasing each other.’

‘Reminds me of being bullied at school.’ Not wanting to dwell on that, Tina gently asked, ‘What’s the other thing? You said you were here because Sam asked if you would test the place, but you implied there was another reason as well.’

‘Oh that’s easy, Tina. We need to be here. The initial help we had only went so far. There comes a point, once they’ve got you functioning on a basic level again, when the next poor bastard seeking help arrives on their to-do list, all beaten up and exhausted, and you’re left needing to find a reason for being. That’s what Sam is trying to help people find. A