Miranda's Mount (12 page)

Faced by a crazed man with a cutlass or a peacock smuggler, Ronnie hadn’t batted an eyelid. Confronted by six feet eight of New Zealand’s finest beef, she’d been tackled, brought down and would probably need a stretcher and the trainer.

‘Your
glasses look a bit low, girls. Can I get you a drink?’ asked Neem.

‘Arf,’ squeaked Ronnie, with an uncanny impression of a sea lion.

Miranda rescued her. ‘She means yes. Half of Tinner’s and a Pimm’s for me, please.’

‘Coke, Theo?’

‘’Fraid so, mate. I’m on emergency duty.’

Neem winked at Ronnie. ‘Want to give me a hand carrying them back from the bar?’

‘Arf arf.’

‘After you, then.’

Ronnie didn’t exactly skip alongside Neem – Miranda didn’t think Ronnie had ever skipped in her life – but the eagerness with which she accompanied Neem to the bar came pretty close.

Theo laughed as Neem stepped back to let Ronnie go into the bar then ducked his head under the beam. ‘Well, I never thought I’d see Ronnie lost for words.’

‘No. I thought she was going to pass out at one point.’

Theo took a long sip of his drink and smacked his lips. ‘What about you? You seemed impressed by the big man, too.’

‘Neem’s gorgeous but he’s not my type and, anyway, I’d have to step over the dead body of Ronnie to get to him first.’

He watched her thoughtfully. ‘What is your type then?’

Bugger. Miranda had asked for that one. Theo’s eyes crinkled into lines at the corners, fully aware he’d put her in a corner.

‘I don’t really have one.’ Miranda laughed, a little nervously.

After making her
blush, Theo backed off a little but Miranda guessed he was well aware of his effect on women. ‘It’s good of you to nominate the lifeboats as your charity this year for the Festival,’ he said, more seriously.

‘That wasn’t my idea, I’m afraid, though I did suggest it.’

‘Lady St Merryn’s choice, was it?’

‘Oh, no.’

‘What? Not Jago’s, surely?’ Theo seemed be annoyed that Jago had chosen to support his crew.

‘It was Jago’s decision, but I suggested you – the lifeboats – as our charity. Jago just had to rubber stamp our decision.’ Well, it was true and if Miranda had thought Jago wouldn’t agree, she’d have just gone ahead anyway. But she wasn’t going to tell Theo that.

‘Maybe Jago’s not such a total twat as most of us think.’ He sounded unconvinced. ‘Most of the blokes round here think he’s a waster, but, unfortunately, the women seem to like him from what I’ve heard and seen since he’s been back.’

She was taken aback by the bitterness in his voice. ‘Theo …’

‘OK, maybe I shouldn’t say that about our noble benefactor but he was never around much when he was young and after his father died, he just left her ladyship to run the place on her own. No man should run away from his responsibilities like that.’

Plenty do, though, thought Miranda. Like her father, whoever he was. Like her mother. Like she had, running away from home at sixteen and never going back. She’d had good reason, though. Hadn’t she?

Yet Jago had rattled Theo’s cage in some way, though how he’d had time to do that in the short time he’d been back, Miranda didn’t know. Theo hadn’t immediately struck her as the jealous type; he was such a babe magnet himself, he had no reason to feel insecure where girlfriends were concerned.

He
finished his Coke then said quietly, ‘Must have been a shock to you all at the Mount, Jago turning up out of the blue? Come to run the place, has he? Or is it just a flying visit?’

Ah. She could finally hazard a guess at where some of Theo’s animosity had come from. Understandable envy of the St Merryns combined with a partly justifiable contempt of Jago for abandoning his duties … it figured. Sort of. Theo would go down with his ship before he’d give up on the chance to help the community, whereas he probably thought Jago would be first in the queue for the lifeboats.

‘I’m not really sure that I can …’

‘Slag off your employers in public? In that case, I’ll change the subject and, anyway, your new lord and master just crawled in.’

Before Miranda had time to protest, he shifted to one side and Jago headed through the gate into the pub garden. He glanced in Miranda’s direction, gave a brief nod then disappeared straight into the bar. Neem walked out a few seconds later, a pint in each hand, followed by Ronnie with a Pimm’s and a Coke for Theo. Miranda was struck by her friend’s face, she seemed to have lit up inside, like a lantern glowing on a dark night. Perhaps love at first sight really existed, thought Miranda. Lust at first sight certainly did. She knew that too well.

Some time later, Ronnie and Miranda sat at the table while Neem and Theo nipped off to the Gents.

Miranda blew out a little breath. ‘You know, men don’t usually go the loo in twos.’

Ronnie
bounced up and down on her seat. ‘Not for a slash, they don’t. But there’s more than bogs in the Gents. Oh my God, I hope the machine has a condom big enough. Oh, bloody hell …’ She sat down with a thump. ‘I hope I can cope.’

‘Ronnie, I love you to bits and I hope you have a great night, but that is way too much information.’

‘Yes. Sorry. You don’t mind if I go back to the Mount with Neem, do you?’

‘Of course not.’

‘You can walk over with us, if you like, but I get the feeling you’d rather stay with Theo?’

Miranda wasn’t sure yet, but she also wasn’t going to make Ronnie feel uncomfortable by playing wallflower. ‘I’ll follow in a little while. Give you time to get settled into the cottage first.’

If Ronnie could have smiled any wider, her face might have cracked. ‘Thanks.’

‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ she said.

‘Bugger. That doesn’t leave me much.’

As Neem came back, looking suspiciously happy, Miranda spotted Jago at a table on the edge of the garden, surrounded by what could only be described as a fan club. She recognised three girls from the local beauty salon, the junior partner from the solicitor’s and the man who ran the crystals shop on the seafront. They were gawping, giggling and touching his arm like he had the power to cure them of the palsy or the plague. From time to time, Jago deigned to nod and smile in between puffs of a cigarette.

‘’Bye then,’ said Ronnie. She kissed Miranda on the cheek and then whispered, ‘Wish me luck.’ Neem had barely touched Ronnie but the air crackled with a connection between her best friend and this giant of a man.

‘Enjoy,’ she said and truly meant it. In a moment, Ronnie would leave and she would be left in a crowded garden, surrounded by people and Theo and Jago. She squashed down a shiver. She suddenly felt as alone as she ever had done and didn’t know why.

‘You too,’ replied Ronnie with a theatrical wink.

Miranda cringed inwardly then Ronnie was gone, with Neem’s huge arm around her waist. Miranda wondered how Ronnie’s bed would bear the weight.

As
soon as they’d gone, Theo turned to her. ‘So, now that we’re finally on our own, I wanted to ask you something. You don’t have to say yes, not if you’re busy, but I was wondering if you might … that is … oh, shit!’ The pager clipped to his belt buzzed. ‘We’ve got a shout. I have to go but I was going to say –’

A piercing whistle rang out by the gate. A woman waved frantically at Theo and he shouted back, ‘Coming!’ He turned to Miranda. ‘I’ll phone you. Tomorrow.’

‘Take care,’ called Miranda.

She had been sure Theo had been going to ask her out and she hadn’t known what to say in reply. There was bitter edge to his comments about Jago, yet, on the surface, he seemed a genuinely sweet guy. She didn’t know why she was even hesitating. God knows it was time she met someone nice and you couldn’t get much nicer than Theo. The rest of the village thought he was a sweetheart, unlike someone else … someone walking over to her table right now.

Jago was
not nice or sweet. In fact, he was a feckless, over-privileged bastard who had so far managed to be a disappointment on every level. Yet at the sight of him heading for her like a heat-seeking missile, Miranda needed scraping off the flagstones of the Pilchard’s beer garden.

Jago wore ripped jeans, knackered flip-flops and a faded T-shirt. He looked like a mythical god who’d fallen to Earth naked and had to raid a recycling skip.

Maybe,
she thought, it was imprinted in the genetic code passed down from her mother. Some people got frizzy ginger hair or wonky teeth. She’d been handed a predisposition to fall for a gorgeous, useless object like Jago. Perhaps she could get some aversion therapy that would make her want nice, steady Theo, pillar of the community and serial hero.

He put his pint down on her table and took a long slow drag on his ciggy before smirking. ‘Putting some pennies in Theo Martin’s collecting tin, were you?’

‘Just supporting a good cause.’

Her throat tightened with anger and confusion. What had Theo done to upset Jago? Determined not to get dragged into a fight, she tried sarcasm. ‘You do know your mummy would kill you if she knew you were smoking.’

Jago gave a sigh. ‘Well, if I’ve been such a bad boy, why don’t you put me over your knee and spank me?’

A fire kindled
beneath her cheeks. Was Jago drunk? He must be to say something like that to her and, worse, spanking Jago was a scenario she dare not even begin to contemplate in a public place. Too bad, the image was now etched on her brain, possibly forever. She hated him for saying it, but at the same time her whole body seemed to glow like a fire had been lit within her. She sought refuge in prissiness. ‘Your father died of a heart attack. You know your mother hates smoking.’

‘Oh, I shouldn’t worry too much. I have many vices but a fag is only one of my occasional ones. But if it offends your delicate sensibilities, I’ll happily put it out.’

‘Don’t bother on my account.’

‘I don’t do anything on other people’s account, you should have realised that by now.’ He dropped the fag on the flagstones and stamped on it with his flip-flops. Miranda had hopeful visions of smouldering rubber and Jago hopping about shrieking, but it wasn’t to be. He was too cool for that and he had to be a little drunk, which might have accounted for the extra edge to his so-called humour.

He nodded at her glass. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘I’ve already got one, thanks.’

‘Call that a drink? A quarter of a glass?’

‘There’s no point. I’m going back to the Mount in a minute.’

‘The tide’s coming in.’

‘I’ve still got time.’

‘Possibly, but I wouldn’t try crossing over on your own, now Ronnie’s gone. Who was that I saw her with?’

‘He’s called Neem and he’s from Christchurch, but he’s working as a jewellery designer. When he’s not playing rugby. With Theo,’ she added mischievously.

‘Theo doesn’t play rugby. He’s too busy with his little boat.’

‘He’s on a shout,’ said Miranda loyally.

‘Yes. He’s a hero. Unlike me.’

So that was it. Jago
was feeling guilty as well as being half-cut. Well, Miranda wasn’t going to absolve him. She drained her glass and shouldered her bag. ‘You know, I really didn’t expect to see you in here at all,’ she said.

‘You mean you didn’t expect I’d dare show my face in the circumstances?’

‘No, well, yes, that’s what I meant. Everyone must be wondering, asking you questions, wanting to know if you’re here to stay?’

His mouth curved in a wry smile. ‘Actually, most of the people who’ve spoken to me tonight seem to want to sleep with me.’ Her skin fizzed. Did he mean her too? The arrogant egomaniac git. ‘Present company excepted, of course. I know you’d never dream of sleeping with the enemy,’ he added.

‘You’re not the enemy. Please don’t flatter yourself that I think so. You’re my employer and I work for you. I’m just trying to help you achieve your goals as effectively as I can.’

He stared at her then shook his head. ‘If I’d known the Mount’s finances were being wasted on teaching my staff to talk management crap, I’d have come back years ago.’

‘Jago. Has anyone ever told you that you are the most annoying bastard that ever walked the Earth?’

He smiled. ‘That’s better. I’ll fetch you a drink.’

‘Suit yourself but I’m leaving.’

‘Sit down, Miranda and don’t be so stupid.’

His voice was sharp as he flipped a thumb towards the sea. She could see the waves lapping the cobbles at the Mount end of the causeway. She’d have to leave right now if she wanted to walk over. She knew the tides as well as the back of her hand – it was touch and go if she would make it without wading. Never mind, she’d risk it.

He
softened his tone. ‘Come on, Miss Whiplash. I’ll get you a drink.’

‘I’ll be gone when you get back from the bar.’

‘Perhaps. But somehow, I don’t think you’re that predictable.’ It was catch-22. Damned if she walked off. Damned if she didn’t. ‘I’ll be back shortly,’ he said. ‘And we both know it’s already too late to walk away.’

Her heart thumped, in anger and nervousness and pure desire. She put her bag back on the table and closed her eyes. Why couldn’t she leave? She’d been so determined to walk away, knowing that Jago was like a bottle of cheap champagne on special offer at the supermarket. You couldn’t help buying one, even though you knew it would end up tasting just as underwhelming and nasty as you’d expected.

But he
was right. As she waited, she realised she’d been kidding herself that she could see the Mount end of the causeway. It was already shimmering as the water closed over the cobbles and she might have had to wade the last stretch. She shivered a little, that would not have been a good idea; the currents swirling around the island could be fierce, no matter how good a swimmer you were. She’d have to persuade one of the rowing club or fishermen to lend her a boat or stay on the mainland in the pub or a B&B. She didn’t think Jago would have trouble finding a bed for the night.

She thought of Ronnie and Neem, breaking the bedsprings in Ronnie’s cottage. That’s if Neem could even squeeze through the doorframe. She smiled at the thought of Ronnie getting her jollies and felt a stab at the thought of Jago getting his. A stab of jealously and longing and lust.