Spring Blossoms at Mill Grange

I can tell just by looking at you that you’re worn out. And it’s no wonder, visiting me every day, working at the manor and then keeping that lot going.’ He pointed to a pile of open files on the dining room table, which made up all the committees and clubs that Mabel ran or took minutes for.
‘You’d rather I’d sat here pining for you? Well, let me tell you, Bert Hastings, it’s not easy sitting here, day after day, scared stiff that…’
Mabel broke off. Weeks of emotion and fear catching up with her as she sobbed, ‘I was so looking forward to you coming home, and now you’re here, I just want to sleep.’
‘There, there lass.’ Bert wiped a tear from her face. ‘I’ve been desperate to get home too. I’m also shattered.’
Mabel gave a weak smile. ‘A doze on the sofa then?’
‘A doze on the sofa with my favourite girl.’
Nestling her head on Bert’s shoulder, Mabel had just got comfortable, when she sat bolt upright. ‘Sybil sent over fresh scones. I forgot. They were a surprise for you, do you want—’
‘Later.’ Bert stifled a cough, the effort making him yawn. ‘Sybil’s scones are always worth waiting for.’
‘Of course.’ Mabel’s head was only just back on his shoulder when she jolted up again. ‘But what if we sleep through when you next pills are due and—’
‘Whoa, there.’ Bert shifted within his cocoon of cushions so he met his anxious wife’s eyes. ‘I’m not due more medicine until four.’
‘Oh yes, right. Of course.’ Mabel checked her watch, it was eleven o’clock. She settled back against Bert, only to sit back up for a third time. ‘But Tina and Sam said they’d pop over. If they come and we don’t hear them, they’ll worry.’
‘No they won’t.’ Bert tapped his shoulder, and Mabel rested back against him. ‘They’ll assume we’re having a nap and come back later or tomorrow.’
He was about to tell her he was glad she was still the same overactive Mabel he’d left behind when he’d gone into hospital, but she was already fast asleep. Soft, hedgehog-like snores, which she’d later claim she hadn’t made, ricocheted around the living room.
*
‘Looking forward to heading back to Mill Grange for Easter, Thea?’
Ajay passed her a glass of white wine as they sat in the sunshine in The Carthorse’s beer garden.
‘Very much. I know it’s only been a few weeks, but it feels ages.’
‘Time not flying while you’re having fun then?’ Andy swung his legs over the wooden bench to sit down, as he joined Thea, Shaun and Ajay for a pub lunch.
‘I’m having a great time dig wise, but there’s only so long a girl can go without one of Sybil’s scones.’
‘Or how long a boy can go without Mabel’s bacon…’
‘Sandwiches,’ his friends chorused as Shaun poked at his inferior BLT.
He laughed. ‘I’ve mentioned I like them then?’
‘Having tasted both of those culinary delights, I can understand the hurry to get back.’ Andy nodded into his pint.
‘I think work might be waiting for me when I get back.’ Thea gestured to her phone. ‘A heap of texts arrived this morning from Helen.’
‘Where were you standing when they arrived?’ Ajay asked eagerly, before changing his mind. ‘Actually, don’t tell me. If I know, I’ll feel obliged to go there, and I’m quite enjoying not being bombarded with notifications.’
‘Very wise.’ Thea turned to Shaun. ‘Helen’s been asked to write a book about the fortlet.’
‘That’s great. Will she do it?’ Thea held her phone up so Shaun could read the texts from Helen. ‘Ah, so she’s still thinking it over, but this was sent a few days back.’
‘I know. I thought I’d take a walk and get enough signal to phone.’
‘Or you could get really modern, and use the call box in the hall.’ Andy waved a hand towards the pub.
‘I hadn’t realised there was one. Whereabouts is it?’
‘Hidden right at the far end, opposite the gent’s loo. It’s more or less underneath the coat racks, so it’s no wonder you didn’t know it was there.’
Taking a sip of her wine, Thea got to her feet. ‘Thanks, Andy, I’ll go now. That way, I’ll miss Shaun bemoaning the inferior taste of bacon and bread combinations outside of the Upwich area.’
*
If it hadn’t been for the sight of two legs sticking out under a mound of coats, Thea wouldn’t have seen where the public phone was.
Shielded from view by – what she assumed – were the staff’s jackets, all she could see of the person currently engaged in a muted conversation at the other end of the narrow corridor, was a pair of blue jeans. The way they were positioned suggested that their owner was resting with his back against the wall as he spoke down the line.
Not surprised to find the phone in use, when the signal for mobiles was so unreliable, Thea realised she might need change or a phone card to make the call, and headed to the bar to enquire how the phone was paid for.
Five minutes later, a fully charged phone card to hand, Thea returned to see the same pair of legs in situ. Not sure if she should wait nearer, so the caller knew someone was queuing for the phone, or stay where she was, so they could finish their call in private, Thea hovered in the passageway until she had to move to let someone by to reach the toilets.
Moving forwards, so she wouldn’t be constantly in the way of the cloakrooms, Thea came to rest on the other side of the coat rack, close enough to hear the conversation, but shielded from the caller by the coats. Wondering what advice she could give Helen, if any, she suddenly recognised the shoes at the same time as she registered who the voice belonged to.
Julian was talking as if afraid of being overheard. There was definitely something covert about his tone. Thea had the strangest notion that if the coats hadn’t been there to hide him,