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

be daft, I’d value your opinion.’ Thea picked up the geophysics plan and placed it over the geological plans. ‘The ground is largely clay – that’ll make it hard going.’

‘Depends how much topsoil was brought in by the Victorian gardeners when they terraced the place. It’s a miracle they didn’t touch this bit.’

‘Shaun reckoned it’s because the soil was so bad, being close to the woods, that they used it as a natural boundary as the edge of the formal part of the garden.’

Helen looked across the garden to the area in question. ‘Were those trees always there?’

‘The ones that bank the side of the drive? I think so. Why?’

‘The root systems have probably played havoc with the dig. Your stratigraphic layers could be mixed that side of the fortlet.’

‘My what now?’ Sam plonked himself onto the opposite side of the picnic table. ‘Morning, Helen, sleep well at the Stag?’

‘Very well, thanks.’ Helen blushed, suddenly conscious that it sounded as if she was taking over. ‘Don’t worry, I will be out of your hair soon. I came to say goodbye.’

‘Goodbye?’ Thea and Sam spoke in unison.

‘Yes. I have to go back to work on Monday.’

‘It’s only Thursday.’

‘Well, yes, but you’ve got visitors to care for and things to do, and I’m in the way.’

Sam looked worried. ‘We haven’t made you feel you’re in the way, have we?’

‘Not a bit of it.’ Helen spoke quickly, afraid she’d inadvertently offended him. ‘I’m just aware of how much you have going on here. I didn’t want to add to that burden.’

Thea smiled. ‘If you went home now, what would you do until Monday?’

‘Clean the carpets and dust.’

‘Housework?’ Thea cocked her head to one side. ‘Well you could do that, or you could stay here.’

Sam waved a hand toward the manor. ‘We’re not short of bedrooms. Assuming you want to, and have already booked out of the pub of course.’

‘Well I… I mean; are you sure?’

‘Yes!’ They spoke together, before Thea added, ‘I would value a second opinion on all this. I’ve worked on lots of digs, even run a few, but not one as potentially important as this. I need an expert on side. Who better than the curator of the world famous Roman Baths?’

Sam agreed, ‘I’d like to pick your brains about that sponsorship idea as well, if you don’t mind. And about archaeological training – I’ve had a certificate idea.’

‘You have?’

Thea grabbed her friend’s hand. ‘Do stay, Helen; it’ll be fun. Better than scrubbing carpets for the next two days.’

Fighting the urge to give Thea another hug, Helen nodded. ‘I’d love to. Thank you.’

‘I wouldn’t thank us too soon.’ Sam got back to his feet. ‘You’ll be working for your supper. Talking of which, I’ll let Mabel know there’ll be another person to feed until Sunday.’

‘You’re all so kind.’ Helen stared at the maps in case her friends spotted the treacherous tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. ‘You’re sure Tina won’t mind?’

‘Of course she won’t.’ Sam spoke with confidence. ‘Tina never minds anything.’

Twenty

September 10th

The scent of roast chicken and vegetables wrapped itself around Tina as she kicked off her shoes, and placed them in the rack Sam had built to hold the hiking boots and wellingtons regularly dropped by the front door. Slipping on her indoor trainers, so her feet didn’t freeze against the stone-tiled floor, she headed to the bathroom.

Her morning, at the furthest farm from her base in Upwich, had turned into a full day, due to a combination of ill-kept accounts, tractors blocking the roads and a huddle of sheep who refused to move off the road to let her pass.

Now, tired and hungry, Tina savoured the aroma. Perhaps having guests who were willing to cook her dinner every night wasn’t so awful.

Washing her hands in the cloakroom sink, trying to expunge the remnants of grubbiness that had hung around the farmhouse she’d been sat in for the best part of six hours, Tina decided to go straight to the kitchen rather than head upstairs to change first.

During her long drive home, she had given herself a stern talking-to, and come to the unpalatable conclusion that blaming her experiences of childhood bullying for her recent insecurity was little more than an excuse. To her shame, she’d been privately resentful. Not just of their guests’ shared past with Sam, but of Thea’s friendship with Helen. From tonight Tina was determined to join in and start acting like the partner in the business Sam had said she was.

Her resolve faltered the moment she stepped across the kitchen’s threshold. Rather than finding Woody or Ann slaving over a hot Aga, she discovered Helen there instead. Her rainbow-striped jumper sleeves rolled up, a tea towel tucked into the bib of her dungarees, her face shiny from the heat of the stove.

‘Helen?’ Knowing the single word had come out as an accusation and not an enquiry as to why she was not only still there, but cooking their evening meal, Tina quickly added, ‘Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be here. It smells amazing.’

‘Thank you and thank you.’

‘Sorry?’

‘For the compliment on the cooking, although that may be premature; I haven’t cooked a roast dinner in years. And for not hating that I’m still here.’

Instantly feeling guilty, Tina hid her face by going to fill up the kettle. ‘Why would I hate you being here?’

‘Another person to cater for, another bedroom to sort before the real guests arrive.’

Realising she hadn’t factored that Helen was Thea’s friend into her thinking; feeling even more ashamed, Tina asked, ‘Are you staying in the manor tonight?’

‘Yes.’ Helen stirred the saucepan of boiling carrots, wondering if she’d already missed the fine line between them being properly cooked and overdone. ‘Sam didn’t tell you?’

‘No.’ Tina fished her phone from her pocket. ‘I’ve been out of range for most of the day. Any texts would only just have reached me.’ Checking her screen, seeing nothing waiting her attention, Tina reminded herself of her recent decision, and tried