Spring Blossoms at Mill Grange

had to jog to catch up with him. ‘Sam, please! Stop a minute.’
He paused, holding Tina to his side. ‘We must go and find them. Mabel will be in pieces if—’
‘We aren’t family. We’ll have to wait until visiting hours, and then there’s the other thing…’ Tina hesitated, not sure if she should mention the thought that had crossed her mind or not.
‘Other thing?’
‘You’re getting good at going inside downstairs in Mill Grange, and in Bert’s cottage you’re fine because it’s become familiar, but—’
Sam’s shoulders sagged in defeat as his old enemy reared its head. ‘Damn!’
Tina jumped at the unexpected shout. ‘I’m sorry, I just thought better to bring it up here, rather than you fainting in the hospital and becoming a patient too.’
‘Bloody claustrophobia! How many more years will I have to cope with this damn thing!?’ Sam’s tone dropped to an apologetic mumble. ‘Maybe I’d be okay.’ But even as he said it, Sam could feel the images of the hospitals sterile whiteness closing in on him and a perspiration that was only partly down to his concern for Bert coated his back.
‘We’ll phone the hospital. Come on.’ Tina gently tugged at Sam’s hand to get him to move again. ‘Hopefully, Bert will be in a ward on the ground floor and you can wave through the window.’
‘Fat chance!’ Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they walked. ‘Tina, he’s been rushed into hospital with pneumonia. That’s serious at any age, but Bert’s… He might be in intensive care.’
Tina’s pale face blanched. ‘I know. I just didn’t want to think about that. First my parents, and now—’
‘Don’t say it. Bert hasn’t gone anywhere yet.’
*
‘It can’t be six months already?’
‘It’s nearly seven. My sabbatical has already been extended by a month. You know what they say about time flying when you’re enjoying yourself.’
Tom picked up a stone from by his foot and threw it into the river, where it made a satisfying plop. ‘And have you, enjoyed yourself?’
‘You know I have.’ Helen felt the awkwardness they’d managed to shake off start to descend again as she saw Tom fix his attention on a young family on the opposite side of the water. ‘If it helps, I don’t particularly want to go back.’
As Tom didn’t look as if he was willing, or able, to reply, Helen kept talking, not wanting a new silence to fall between them.
‘I hadn’t realised how much I needed a break from work when I came to Mill Grange. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job at the Roman Baths. It is hard work, demanding, and full on – but so rewarding. Have you ever been?’
‘I took Dylan last year.’
Helen imagined the wonder on the little boy’s face. ‘He must have been four then. Already taking after his dad.’
‘A week before he was five. It was his birthday treat. I’d read him a Ladybird book on the Romans I’d got from the library. The book was almost as old as the subject matter, but Dylan loved it. He said he could imagine the soldiers marching and getting cross when the roads weren’t straight enough.’
Laughing, Helen could picture the lad saying so. ‘Shame I didn’t know you then. I’d have given him a behind the scenes tour. Loads more to see in the workshops and storerooms.’
‘He’d have liked that.’ Tom resumed his observation of the family opposite. The father was holding a young boy, of about three years old, over his head, whizzing him round like an aeroplane. ‘So would I.’
‘Maybe you could come. Both of you.’ Helen found herself staring at her hands as they sat in her lap. ‘There are some artefacts Dylan could help clean if he wanted to.’
‘You know he’d want to.’
‘Yes… He’s good at it too. He’s helped me before.’ Helen winced at the stilted nature of their conversation. ‘I’d like him to. I’d like you both to come and visit.’
‘You or the Baths?’
‘Both.’ Helen reached for the flask, hoping there was some coffee left. ‘It isn’t that far to Bath. You could—’
‘It’s a two-hour drive.’ Tom shook his head. ‘Going once for a visit, I could do that with Dylan. But I have work here, I have a son I’m finally getting to spend more time with and, let’s be honest, next to no money to spend on petrol. I try very hard not to live beyond my means.’
‘Right, yes, of course.’ She stared into the plastic beaker in her hand.
‘And how often do you have weekends off, Helen? Rarely, I imagine. And I only get weekends off and never week days, so—’
‘Okay, I get it.’ Pouring the dregs of the coffee between their cups, she passed one to Tom. ‘What would you have me do, then? It’s my job, and it’s a good one. I have a home in Bath that will be goodness knows how deep in dust and cobwebs by now. And I have colleagues that are relying on me to come back. Plus, Sam and Tina only employed me until mid-April, and that time is almost up. They don’t have the money to spend on me for any longer.’
‘But with Thea away with Shaun, then…’
‘Don’t think I haven’t thought about that. I know Mill Grange will be shorthanded for a while, but my bosses have already been more than generous with my sabbatical, I can’t ask for another extension.’
‘Would you stay if you could? If Sam offered you a job here?’
Placing a hand over his, Helen risked looking at Tom as he stared across the water. ‘Would there be more than a job to stay for?’
‘Your friends, your work here; the book you’ve been asked to write. Then there’s—’
‘Tom!’ Helen put down her tepid coffee and took hold of his chin, gently turning him to face her. ‘You know that isn’t what I meant.’
His words came out as a whisper. ‘But I’m a nightmare with women.’
‘So you keep saying.’ She placed a finger on Tom’s lips. ‘Maybe it’s time you stopped judging the people