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

‘She’s nice. She’s teaching us about the Romans. Want to know what I’m learning?’

Fifty-One

October 3rd

As they walked into the kitchen, Tina listened to Dylan telling Sam that the Romans had special baths to relax in after work. She couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing as, hand in hand, man and boy passed through the kitchen. Bert, at a discreet distance, was doing his old man who can’t walk fast act, so as not to crowd Sam.

When they left the kitchen, turning into the corridor that led to the drawing room, Mabel let out a loud exhalation of air. ‘Well I’ll be damned!’

Tina’s eyes fell on two little discarded wellington boots by the kitchen door, decorated with cartoon dragons and castles, and she sobbed in relief and amazement. ‘Dylan’s done it! Sam inside Mill Grange.’

Shaun and Thea exchanged glances. Neither wanted to be the one to say what they were thinking. How long before Sam sprints back out again?

Passing Tina a tissue, Mabel brushed down her apron, pulling them back to the reality of the situation. ‘Shaun, you need to go in with Sam and get rehearsing while you can. The rest of us should stay here. There’ll be all manner of people in the drawing room soon, and us lot crowding in won’t help.’

Tina gave a loud sniff. ‘I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m so proud. I keep thinking of what Lady Malvern will say when we tell her about Dylan and the tree and…’ She broke off into another croaky snob.

‘That’s exactly why you’re crying.’ Thea wasn’t sure how she was keeping her own emotions in check. ‘Someone should go and tell Phil that Sam’s in position before we lose the moment. And tell Tom too. His son might be about to appear on television. We’ll need his permission for that.’

*

Having checked that Dylan had the situation in hand, from his position curled up on Sam’s lap on the wing-backed chair facing the window, Bert muttered to Shaun, ‘Whatever you do, do not let Phil swap your seats round. Sam has got to see the window. In fact, if you can open it, that would be even better.’

‘Where are you going, Bert?’

‘To find that Phil chap.’

‘What for?’

‘No time to explain. Keep Sam talking. Do not, for one minute, let him have time to think about where he is.’

*

Shaun didn’t ask Sam if he was alright. It was a pointless question. Hilda was going to have her work cut out getting some colour in his cheeks.

Dylan was still chatting away about Romans, while holding both of Sam’s hands.

Phil was taking forever to arrive. Whatever it was that Bert was saying to him, Shaun wished he’d hurry up.

Opening the window, muttering something about the room being hot because of the unseasonal fire, Shaun sat in the other chair and looked at Sam. It was like peering into the eyes of a trapped animal, part afraid, part ready to strike. Thank God for Dylan.

‘Sorry to interrupt, Dylan,’ Shaun said to the lad, ‘but I need to practise interviewing Sam now.’

Unfolding his legs, ready to jump off Sam’s lap, Dylan’s expression became serious. ‘Can I watch from the sofa?’

Sam held him tighter. ‘If you’re comfy, you could sit here while we practise. If that’s okay with you, Shaun?’

‘Whatever works for you.’ Shaun opened his script folder. ‘So, it’ll be like we’ve discussed before. I’ll ask you about what you’re planning here, and why. Okay?’

‘I wish they’d hurry up.’ Sam shuffled in the chair.

Dylan nodded. ‘It’s horrid waiting when you’re nervous. Shall I go and fetch them? Helen said I’m good at fetching stuff.’

Torn between wanting to get on and not wanting to remove Sam’s human safety blanket, Shaun was about to say they’d give it two more minutes, when Phil arrived, with the sound man, one cameraman, and no one else. No Hilda, no one to act as runner, and no one to fiddle with the lighting. Shaun could tell Phil wasn’t happy, but said nothing as he wondered what Bert had said to stop the place being crammed with crew.

‘We’ve done the rehearsal.’ Shaun gave Phil a beseeching look, which he hoped conveyed how time was of the essence here. ‘Shall we start?’

Dylan threw his arms around Sam. ‘You’ll be every bit as good as my dad was.’ Then he put his face up to Sam’s ear, and in an over-loud whisper said, ‘Don’t be scared.’

*

Making sure they were out of the sight of the camera, Thea, Tina, Tom and Helen stood near the open window.

There was so much tension radiating from Tina that Thea was willing to bet her friend’s shoulders ached with the effort of willing Sam not to bolt until Phil shouted ‘Cut!’

As they heard Shaun’s confident words drift though the window, Thea saw Helen’s eyes drift to Tom. He was holding Dylan’s dirty boots against his chest.

A second later, Sam’s voice rang out, telling Shaun why he was opening Mill Grange as a rehabilitation retreat for recovering military personnel.

Thea held on to Tina, as she sagged in relief.

Sam was inside Mill Grange. And he had been for almost fifteen minutes.

*

The second Phil said ‘Cut!’ Sam dived off the chair, scooped up a delighted Dylan, who immediately pretended he was an aeroplane, complete with engine noise and arms held out like wings, as they sprinted to the back door.

Slamming his back against the outside wall, breathing so hard, it sounded like he’d been close to drowning, Sam passed Dylan into Tom’s outstretched arms as Tina flung herself at her boyfriend.

‘Oh my God, you did it. You really did it. Are you okay?’

‘I have no idea.’ Sam held her as he met Tom’s eyes. At first he couldn’t find the words, but after licking some moisture into his lips, Sam spoke to the boy, now cuddled in his father’s arms. ‘Do you like cake, Dylan?’

‘I love it!’

‘Tom, if it’s alright with you, I’d like