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

than a regal command from Sophie’s mother. ‘What she was saying about the contemporary records documenting the building of aqueducts to carry water through the church to beyond the churchyard was really interesting.’

‘It was.’ Shaun hid behind a menu as he found himself remembering the brief second when Sophie had dropped her script notes, her palm brushing his knee in the back of the car as she bent to retrieve them. ‘Sophie definitely has presence. No doubt about that.’

Fifteen

September 8th

Sam held his hands under the cold tap and took a long deep breath. He was shaking, but he didn’t feel sick. Nor was he drenched in sweat. Only his hands and the back of his neck had dotted with perspiration as he’d stood on the threshold of the downstairs bathroom, looking down the short corridor that led to the kitchen. Bert had told him the kitchen back door had been propped open, in the hope he’d walk the short distance.

He hadn’t made it, but nor had he bolted out of the manor. This time, with the knowledge of his friends cheering him on from wherever they happened to be around the house, and the less pure thought of a sleeping next to a naked Tina inside every night – not to mention the desire to wipe the disapproving expression off his father’s face – Sam had taken a single step into the corridor. He’d stood with his back to his usual exit, facing the length of tiled floor corridor. He hadn’t moved, but he’d counted to ten before turning and walking – not running – back outside.

Bert had been delighted; his enthusiasm and praise for Sam made him buoyant as he went to report progress to Mabel in the kitchen.

Now, pressed against the open window inside the bathroom, Sam watched the water splash over his skin as he pictured the kitchen. He’d been in there before, so he could go in again. It might have been a crisis that took him there back in July, but that didn’t matter. He’d sat at the kitchen table with Tina and survived. The roof hadn’t caved in on him and the walls hadn’t sucked the life out of his lungs, even though his brain had told him that both these things would definitely happen.

Drying his hands, Sam headed to the corridor and tried again. He stood where he had with Bert and focused on the red and black floor tiles. They were the originals; he knew that from the particulars he’d studied before buying the house. As he stood there, he pictured all the feet that had crossed them during their lifetime, from the Lord and Lady of the manor checking on their staff, to maids, butlers, cooks, gardeners and beyond.

They all lived here and they all walked along that corridor without even thinking about it, so I can too.

Sam gulped; the perspiration he’d just washed off was already creeping back. He could hear their guests and Tina in the kitchen chatting as they worked together to prepare dinner. They must have come inside via the rear door. He attempted a smile; it was Dave’s night to cook, so the meal would be good. Sam’s smile died. He wanted to join them. Suddenly the boundless safety of the outside felt like the loneliest place in the world.

Tina walks along here every day.

Sam counted to twenty, but his feet wouldn’t move.

Okay, you don’t have to go to the kitchen today, but you do have to count to sixty before you can go outside again.

Focusing on the open kitchen door, only five paces ahead of him, Sam curled his hands into fists and pushed them into balls, digging his fingernails into his palms. ‘Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty…’

He almost called out, but not wanting to ruin the surprise for Tina, nor wanting anyone to witness his frozen state, Sam forced his mind to consider how comfortable the sofas had looked in the drawing room the evening before, when he’d peered through the open window. How nice it would be to curl up there, next to Tina, and be part of things. Not always on the outside staring in.

‘Forty-nine, fifty…’ Almost time to move, almost… ‘Fifty-nine, sixty.’

Sam was back outside, his lungs heavy and tight in his chest, before there was any chance of saying sixty-one. He hadn’t known he was going to run, but something had taken over, and he’d run. Survival instinct. It had saved him so often in the past; now it was ruining his life.

*

Thea slowed her pace as she saw Sam hurtle from the house. Hoping Helen hadn’t noticed his hasty exit, she made a play of pointing out where the house’s brickwork had altered over the years.

Keeping an eye on Sam, she waited until he was stood upright and was breathing normally, before hailing him. ‘Sam, excellent timing, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.’

Introducing Helen, Thea shared the good news that her former boss agreed with her theory that the site was larger than originally thought. Not a fort, but an extended fortlet; possibly built over two periods of construction, first with round walls made of wood and stone, with ditches and banks, and then with new walls of a more solid stone construction.

‘That’s fantastic.’ Sam’s moment of panic faded. ‘And you’re from the Roman Baths?’

Helen took his hand. ‘I should have phoned to let you know I was coming. I’m having a few days’ holiday down here and thought I’d come and, in all honesty, curiosity got the better of me.’

‘I’m very glad it did.’ Thea grinned. ‘Helen’s staying at the Stag and Hound.’

‘Excellent choice. Moira, the landlady, is lovely.’ Sam could smell the aroma of jacket potatoes wafting from the kitchen. ‘Now – if my senses are anything to go by, dinner is almost ready, so why don’t you join us? We’re going to have it outside while the weather is holding, if that’s alright. We have blankets to wrap around the shoulders if you’re cold.’

‘I’d