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

by an intricate root system. Take away the ivy, and he risked losing the wall.

Patting the stonework, he murmured, ‘Okay, I’ll leave the ivy until the spring, but it has to go, or you’ll fall down eventually.’

Sam surveyed the run of the land before him. The chickens, now living as one group, with only the occasional skirmish for supremacy between Mavis and Gertrude, still needed more space, and the rows of vegetable beds needed digging out and expanding.

‘That’s today’s tasks then.’ He wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or a smug Gertrude, but he didn’t care. A sense of satisfaction filled him as he contemplated working with Ann, Dave and Woody that day.

The week was passing fast. His friends would be leaving tomorrow evening, and so far, although they’d helped around the grounds, been for a few walks across the moor, and had proved far better cooks when it came to the evening meals than he’d remembered, they hadn’t so much as touched the fortlet.

Ever since Helen had mentioned sponsorship and Thea had talked about using a tutor to teach archaeology skills, Sam had been determined to make the fortlet work for Mill Grange. Perhaps, in time, they could even develop a certificate to attest to his guests’ new-found skills. He’d hoped to talk to Tina about it, but she’d been very quiet last night, heading for an early night after a busy day.

Glancing at the bruised purple sky, muttering words of hope that it wouldn’t rain and spoil his plans for the day, Sam considered waking Tina. He wanted to talk about Helen’s ideas, but he knew Tina had another day of Trust work ahead, and wouldn’t appreciate being woken at six in the morning. Especially as they couldn’t act upon any ideas for the fortlet until he’d had word from Shaun about a definite start date for the filming.

It was a shame that Woody, Dave and Ann wouldn’t get to see the first cuts of the dig. Sam had a feeling that Woody in particular would have happily got stuck into the task. Resolving to call Shaun about a definite start time, the sponsorship idea, and the lucrative offers they’d got from Treasure Hunters, Sam pulled a tape measure from his pocket. It was time to stake out the extension of the chicken run.

*

Helen lifted her rucksack into the back of the Land Rover and said a farewell to the Stag and Hound. Moira had told her it was a shame she couldn’t stay longer, and Helen had almost changed her mind and paid for another night there and then. Her sense of duty was strong, however. She was expected back at work on Monday, and there were a few jobs she wanted to do at home over the weekend. Admittedly, she didn’t really want to do them, but there was no escaping the fact that over the last few years she’d let her home fall into a state of disrepair.

Seeing the work that Thea, Tina and Mabel had done on Mill Grange, with its many bedrooms, bathrooms and reception rooms, made her ashamed of her tatty two-bedroom terrace in Bath. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d bothered hoovering. There never seemed to be any point. Helen lived alone, and as she was a self-confessed workaholic, she was always at the Baths. Any mess made at home could safely be ignored for ages before it was cleaned up.

Not being at home didn’t stop the paintwork needing refreshing or the curtains washing. Now Helen took the time to think, she wasn’t sure if she’d dusted this month, or last month. Her mind just didn’t have room for housework.

Clambering into the driver’s seat of the Land Rover, Helen’s eyes fell on Sybil’s Tea Rooms. Yesterday’s visit with Thea already seemed ages ago. Helen wondered if she should have been more honest about her snap decision to take a week off work. The problem was that she’d have to be honest with herself first, and she wasn’t ready for that yet.

So far she’d just labelled the situation ‘almost-forty-itis’. Beyond that, Helen didn’t care to dissect the root of her dissatisfaction. Firmly believing that Thea being sorry for her was worse than feeling sorry for herself, Helen buckled up her seatbelt. Far better to go home, get back to work and get on with it. She was British for goodness’ sake. That’s what you did wasn’t it? Starch the upper lip, make a cup of tea, stick your shoulders back and crack on!

Anyway, who wants to spend time with someone who’s lonely? Just the word was enough to make people awkward and send them heading for the hills.

Helen started the engine. Enough thinking. ‘I’ll drop in at the manor to say goodbye, then I’ll go home via the supermarket and buy some cleaning supplies. By tomorrow night I should be able to see what colour the carpet is!’

*

Thea laid out the Ordnance Survey map of the area on the picnic bench next to the geology map, her home-made plan of the garden, and the official plans of Mill Grange and grounds as drown up by the Exmoor Trust during their ownership of the property. Next to these she placed some aerial photographs of the property taken in the 1970s and some pictures of the fortlet site that she’d taken herself. Last of all, she picked up the survey results that Ajay had given her.

With a sense of excitement, only dampened by the fact she’d imagined doing this with Shaun and not on her own, Thea opened a new notebook and poised her pen over the page.

‘Let me guess.’ Helen rounded the corner of the house, striding up to Thea, a huge grin on her face. ‘New notebook for a new dig plan?’

‘Got it in one.’ Thea give her friend a hug before gesturing to the pile of information on the table. ‘Help me?’

‘You sure?’ Helen focused her eyes on the maps. ‘This is your gig not mine.’

‘Don’t