Spring Blossoms at Mill Grange

spring. The local registrar can do the sixteenth or twenty-third of May, so we’ve gone for the twenty-third. As it’s a Saturday, we won’t have guests in the manor to worry about at the same time.’
‘Surely you’ll close Mill Grange to visitors for a few days?’ Helen poured everyone a top up of coffee from the pot. ‘Or maybe not, it’s a new business after all.’
‘Precisely. We want to keep closed days to the minimum. Bookings have been improving steadily, but they are non-existent over the Easter period at the moment, so we will probably close that week in April. We can do most of our wedding planning then. Then we’ll close the week of the actual wedding.’
Helen wiped a finger around her buttery plate. ‘What week is Easter this year?’
‘Works out from the eleventh to the twentieth, if you include weekends. It’s a bit of a long time to be closed to be honest, but if we have no bookings then…’
Thea suddenly sat up straight. ‘Helen, that’s when your birthday is, you’re going to be—’
‘Yes. I know.’ Waving her hand, as if to brush away the fact of another passing year, Helen asked, ‘What time are you and Shaun leaving?’
‘Oh no you don’t. No sidestepping the issue, Helen Rogers!’
‘What is it?’ Tina asked.
‘Helen’s fortieth birthday is during the Easter break. The twelfth of April.’
Helen sighed. ‘I was hoping it would go away if I didn’t think about it.’
‘But don’t you want to celebrate?’ Tina added a dollop of butter to her final mouthful of scone. ‘We could have a party.’
‘Hell no!’ Helen looked horrified. ‘I just want to crawl under the bed and forget about it. I’m going to be forty and I’ve done nothing with my life.’
‘Apart from manage the Roman Baths for almost two decades and be one of the most respected Roman archaeologists and historians on the circuit!’ Thea paused, before adding, ‘I bet Tom will want to celebrate it. And let’s not forget Dylan! Any chance for balloons and birthday cake.’
Guessing that Tom – and the fact he hadn’t made any move on her despite obviously being besotted – was at the heart of Helen’s discomfort over her forthcoming birthday, rather than the fact she was a year older, Thea let her off the hook. ‘If you change your mind, let me know. I’d better get back. I’ve left Shaun packing our clothes.’
‘Seriously?’ This time it was Tina who looked horrified. ‘If I left Sam packing for me, I’d end up with buckets of underwear and very little else.’
Thea laughed. ‘Well that’s young love for you. Makes you blind to the need for woolly jumpers, don’t you think, Helen?’
She gave a brave smile. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

Two
Monday March 16th
As Shaun’s car drove away, Thea waving madly through the passenger window, Tina threaded her arm through Sam’s.
‘I know it’s only for a couple of months, but it’s going to feel strange without Thea here.’
‘It will.’ Sam kissed the top of his fiancée’s head. ‘And even though Shaun’s only here on and off, I’ve got used to him being around too.’ He smiled at Helen and Tom, who were propped against the side of the manor. ‘You guys up for a quick staff meeting? I’ve got a couple of things I’d like to discuss before today’s guests arrive.’
‘I’ll go and put the kettle on.’ Helen pulled herself away from the wall. ‘Where do you want to meet?’
 ‘The walled garden.’ Sam grinned mischievously as he turned to Tom. ‘Would you mind helping me carry a couple of trestle tables over?’
‘No problem.’
Tina tilted her head to one side. ‘What are you up to, Samuel Philips?’
‘You’ll see.’ He winked. ‘Fancy bringing one of your delicious lemon cakes? Oh, and some apple slices for the chickens? Gertrude and Mavis would never forgive us if we entered their domain without treats.’
*
Helen had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard the quiet sobs until her feet were almost on the kitchen’s threshold.
Hovering in the corridor, unsure whether to move forward or leave Mabel in peace, Helen was relieved when Tina arrived at her side.
‘You okay?’
Helen whispered, ‘I think Mabel’s crying.’
‘What?’
‘Listen.’ As the sound of someone trying not to make a noise crying reached their ears, Helen mouthed, ‘She’s such a proud woman, I didn’t know if my going in would be welcome, or if I’d embarrass her.’
Tina didn’t hesitate. ‘You put the kettle on and then phone Bert. He should be here if his wife’s upset. I’ll talk to Mabel.’
Wiping her hands down her side, Tina sat next to Mabel at the kitchen table. Easing the pen and shopping list pad out of the old lady’s hand, she reached for the tissue box Helen had pushed in her direction when en route to the kettle.
‘Mabel? Whatever is it? Do you feel unwell?’
Tina realised with a shock that, without her usual indomitable spirit, Mabel actually looked like what she was – a woman in her late seventies. She and her husband, Bert, always had so much energy; so much drive, that they always came across as being at least a decade younger than they were. Seeing Mill Grange’s catering guru so distraught was both frightening and moving.
‘It’s Bert.’
‘Bert?’ Tina looked across to Helen, who immediately stopped her passage towards the manor’s phone. ‘What about Bert, Mabel?’
‘All our lives we’ve been together. I can’t remember a time without him.’
A sickening feeling grew in Tina’s stomach as she took Mabel’s hand. ‘Is Bert poorly?’
‘He says he’s fine, but I know he’s pretending. He’s so damn stubborn. Won’t even let me call the doctor.’
Not commenting on the irony of Mabel calling her placid husband stubborn, when she was the mistress of the art, Tina asked, ‘Is he at home in bed?’
‘Says it’s just a touch of the cold, but he’s eighty-two, Tina and…’ Disappearing into a handful of tissues, Mabel gave her nose a blow. The act seemed to steady her, and Tina could feel her friend give herself a