Spring Blossoms at Mill Grange Jenny Kane (best romantic books to read .txt) 📖

carrier bags. The contents leaned heavily towards the biscuit, chocolate, and easy cook pizza area. There was nothing that made up a proper meal. Her mouth watered at the thought of Mabel’s home cooking.

Unable to face more shopping, and telling herself she needed to lose weight anyway, Helen took three paces in the direction of home. Halfway through the fourth step, the idea of being home alone made her stop dead, causing a fellow pedestrian to walk straight into her. In a flurry of apologies, Helen turned towards the Roman Baths.

*

Her desk was much as she’d left it. The in tray was full and a long overdue to-do list, scribbled on an old envelope, sat next to her computer monitor. Seeing the out of date list reminded Helen how quickly she’d left the Baths; first using the excuse of taking the chance of seeing some rare Roman remains on Exmoor as a reason to take a couple of days off. A trip that turned into a holiday and then a sabbatical. And then…

She shook her head, batting away the pain she kept telling herself she’d get used to and would, eventually, beat. You have done the right thing. You will feel better in the end.

Wondering if her coffee machine still worked, or if months of neglect would mean it was clogged and would refuse to serve her in a petty act of revenge, Helen stretched her tired limbs as she headed towards her personal caffeine source.

The coffee machine spat at her; not impressed at being left unused for so long, but begrudgingly dispensing her drink anyway. Fishing a packet of biscuits out of the nearest shopping bag, Helen thought about the delighted surprise on the receptionist’s face when she’d arrived in the impressive entrance hall. Then there’d been the friendly wave of the security man as he guarded the door between the museum and the staff offices. Telling them she was back and was popping in to make a start on the hundreds of staff memos she must have missed, Helen had inhaled the familiar aroma of dust, air conditioning and stone that she’d always associate with the Roman Baths. That scent was now infused with the rich blend of Arabica coffee. I certainly missed the smell of this place.

Back at her desk, Helen found several months’ worth of company bulletins and policy documents staring at her. As uninspiring as they ever were, at least they were largely out of date, and therefore undemanding.

Soon immersed in the pointless correspondence, the ring of her desk phone took her by surprise, its tinny sound echoing around the office.

‘Hello… Yes, hello Mike, yes, I’m back in Bath. I thought I’d get my desk backlog sorted before my official restart date.’

Helen could feel herself slipping back into curator mode as the manager of the museum’s board of directors filled her in on a forthcoming exhibition of loaned Roman artefacts. As she took notes, she could hear the relief in his voice that she was back to deal with it for him.

‘Week after next you say?’ Helen opened her desk diary, causing a waft of dust to float towards her. ‘Tuesday arrival, to be opened to the public on following Friday afternoon. Right. What time on the Tuesday?’

Ten minutes later, having been told in no uncertain terms how timely her return was as the new exhibition was rather a last-minute affair, and staff holidays meant there wasn’t anyone with as much experience as her to set it up, Mike had gone on to explain how overprotective the owner of the antiquities was, and how careful handling of him as well as the artefacts, would be required.

 Glad to have a project to concentrate on, Helen dipped a cookie into her coffee and switched on her PC. The biscuit was part way to her mouth when a knock on the door made her jump. Dropping the cookie into her drink, spraying coffee drops across the desk, Helen swore as brown stains dappled her diary.

The security guard popped his head around the door. ‘Sorry to bother you, boss, but could you come to reception. There’s a man here who says he knows you.’

‘What?’ Wiping dots of coffee and biscuit off her cheek, Helen’s pulse drummed rapidly in her neck. ‘What man?’

‘A Mr Harris. Said he’d come from the fortlet where you’ve been working.’

A trip of heat surged through Helen’s chest as her hands went cold. ‘Here?’

‘Boss?’ The security guard, whose name Helen had forgotten, was looking concerned. ‘Is he legit, or do I get rid of him?’

‘Sorry.’ Helen got to her feet. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone. Umm…’ What do I do? She looked at her mug, where the remains of the cookie were floating on the surface of her coffee, slowly decomposing before her eyes. ‘I’ll come with you.’

Surely Tom understands how painful it would be for me to work alongside him every day and then watch him go home to Sue?

As they passed the fire exit, Helen had a childish urge to run through the door. Only the knowledge that she’d have a hell of a lot of explaining to do if she set off the fire alarms on her first trip back to the office, stopped her.

‘Mr Harris, did he have a young boy with him?’

‘No, Boss.’

‘Thanks.’ Helen licked her lips. You can do this. Just tell him to go home to Dylan.

Feeling out of breath, even though they’d walked sedately back to reception, Helen nodded her thanks to the security guard as he pushed open the door.

Tom, looking awkward and out of place, was obviously trying hard not to look awkward and out of place. Helen heart constricted.

Remember why you left. This is for Dylan. Remember.

*

The walk back to her office, with Tom walking behind her, seemed to take six times longer than usual. Helen had felt his presence with each step. His breath on the back of her neck, his hands within touching distance; yet not touching her.

Helen had decided to get