Miranda's Mount (19 page)

She watched the boat power back to the mainland where the blue lights of an ambulance flashed. She saw the crew carry Braden into the ambulance and heard the sirens start up. It pulled away and people began to disperse from around the harbour, the drama over for the day. All she could do now was clear up the mess and hope Braden stayed as well as he’d seemed. She went back into the medical room, stepping over the streaks of blood and water on the tiles.

‘You can come out now. They’ve all gone.’

The bathroom door opened and Jago limped out, the blood-soaked dressing stuck to his foot with sticky tape. He grimaced. ‘I can’t stand a fuss.’

‘I know, but you are bleeding everywhere and making work for the cleaning staff. Can I at least take a look at your foot?’

He hesitated.

She
patted the exam couch. ‘Come on, get up here, Long John Silver. You can trust me. I’m a trained first aider.’

With a sigh, he hopped over to the couch and let her help him onto it. Carefully, Miranda peeled away the dressing and forced herself to look at the jagged wound. She bit her lip. The paramedic was right. ‘You definitely need a couple of stitches.’

Jago pulled a face, and then nodded. Miranda replaced the dressing with a fresh one, fumbling with the adhesive tape as she tried to attach it to his skin. ‘Sorry, my hands are shaking.’

‘Mine too.’ He held out a hand. It was rock steady.

She pressed down the tape on the blade on his foot, feeling the veins and bone under her fingertips. ‘You’ve done that before, haven’t you?’

‘Cut my foot on a can or saved someone’s life?’

She glanced up. ‘You know exactly what I mean.’

‘I’ve never saved anyone before. Not when they’d stopped breathing. When I worked in Australia, we pulled out a lot of people, but mostly ones who were very much alive. The rescues you see on TV are the happy endings. CPR doesn’t always work, you know. In fact, it usually doesn’t work at the stage Braden was at.’

‘But you got lucky today.’

Jago reached out and touched her arm and all the invisible downy hairs rose. Her lips tingled at the memory of their kiss. ‘
We
got lucky. Braden’s alive because of you too.’

Her face warmed up. She stepped back from the exam couch. ‘I’ll come with you to the hospital.’

He gave a sigh. ‘Christ, what a pain in the arse.’

‘We could see if we can find out how Braden is.’

‘OK,
it’s a deal.’

‘I fucking
hate these places.’

Jago rested a hand on the door of the Land Rover and grimaced at the hospital buildings. His tan had visibly paled and perspiration beaded his forehead. He looked like he’d rather chop his own foot off than be here. Miranda wasn’t surprised, the cut probably hurt him a lot more than he’d admit and all his bravado after the rescue had most likely disappeared as the shock set in. She’d had to take a motorboat off the island to the harbour. Her handling skills were rusty but she’d managed to get it safely tied up at the mainland quay. One of the estate vehicles had been parked on the quayside and she’d used that to drive the dozen or so miles to the county hospital.

She left him by the car as she collected a ticket from the machine. She’d had to trawl around the parking area three times before she’d found a space and it was still going to be a long walk – or hop – in Jago’s case to the Accident & Emergency department.

‘You know, it would have been easier if you’d gone with the paramedics,’ she said.

‘I could have driven myself.’

‘You can’t even bear the weight on your foot.’

He
responded by attempting to hop from the car park to the entrance of the hospital. After toppling into a flower display funded by the Hospital League of Friends, he finally accepted her arm. Once inside the doors, seeing Miranda grunting under his weight, a nurse hurried forwards, her face full of concern.

‘What’s happened here?’

‘I hurt my foot,’ said Jago.

‘How did you manage to do that?’

‘Paddling,’ said Miranda, trying to hold him upright. ‘At St Merryn’s Mount.’

The nurse looked surprised. ‘That’s two of you then. We’ve had a little boy brought in from there not long ago.’

‘Really?’ said Miranda.

‘Yes, he fell into the harbour there. Luckily, someone pulled him out and he’s OK. Didn’t you hear about it, if you were there?’ She frowned and beckoned to a porter. ‘But I shouldn’t be talking about it, as you’re not relatives.’

The
nurse smiled as a porter arrived with a wheelchair.

Jago’s face fell. ‘I don’t need that.’

‘I think you do. Your friend looks done in. You must be heavy.’

‘He is,’ said Miranda,

‘I can walk,’ said Jago.

Miranda let go of his arm. ‘He can’t.’

Jago swayed and the nurse and porter grabbed him just in time, easing him down into the wheelchair. Miranda looked down at his sulky face, trying not to laugh. He reminded her very much of his photo, all he needed was the fishing net.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him,’ said the nurse cheerfully. ‘Do you want to hold his hand while we stitch him up or wait here?’

‘She can wait here,’ he growled.

The nurse raised her eyebrows. ‘My, we are a grumpy pants today, aren’t we? I should get a cup of tea, love. I’ll bring your friend back when I’ve finished with him.’

Jago put out his tongue but was wheeled away.

Miranda sat in the waiting room. She bought a cup of tea from the machine but couldn’t drink it. She tried to leaf through an old copy of
Country Life
but found the mating habits of the woodcock were no distraction from the events of the afternoon. The accident, the rescue, the kiss that was cut short.

That kiss. The rescue. She’d had enough adrenaline to power a relay team, no wonder she felt like a wet dishcloth. Jago seemed to be ages and she was just thinking of putting another car park ticket on the Land Rover when he hobbled out of the treatment room, with the aid of a pair of crutches.

His foot was expertly dressed and bandaged and the nurse followed him out. ‘Be careful the next time you go rock pooling, young man.’

‘Yeah. Sure.’

‘Thank you,’ said Miranda.

‘Almost
a pleasure,’ said the nurse. ‘If you think it’s getting infected, see your GP or, failing that, come back here.’

‘I don’t have a GP,’ said Jago, after she’d left. Miranda realised why immediately. He wasn’t planning on staying so why should he register with a practice?

He tried to put his weight on the injured foot and grimaced.

She watched him. ‘Does it still hurt?’

‘My foot’s fine. It’s my arse that’s sore. That sadist of a nurse gave me a tetanus jab and shot me full of antibiotics. Just couldn’t wait to get my daks down I guess.’

She laughed.

‘It’s not that funny.’

‘I know. But you’re a big boy now. You can take it.’

A half-smile spread over his lips then he returned to grumpy mode. ‘I can’t stand the smell of this place any more. Let’s see if we can find out how Braden is then get out of here.’

They made their way from the minor injuries unit to the far end of the emergency unit. It had grown much busier since they’d arrived, with several rows of people in shorts and flip-flops all waiting glumly to be attended to. Kids dashed about, throwing Lego bricks at each other while fractious toddlers clambered over the seats.

She nudged Jago’s arm. ‘There’s Braden over by the nurses’ station.’

Braden wriggled on a trolley while his mum tried to stop him from climbing over the side. ‘I want to go home. Home!’ he wailed.

‘Soon, love. But we have to stay for a bit longer so we can make sure you’re OK after you tumbled into the sea.’

‘I want to go home!’

A young doctor
with a pink stethoscope round her neck tried to soothe him but Braden opened his mouth and wailed. ‘Homeeeeeeee!’

Miranda shook her head in disbelief. ‘Looks like he’ll be OK.’

‘Hopefully. No wonder he came round. He’s got an amazing pair of lungs.’

Braden launched into full tantrum mode, screwing up his face and banging the sides of the trolley with his chubby little fists. The porter winced and started to wheel the trolley towards Jago and Miranda.

‘Oh, shit. Quick. I don’t want them to see us.’ Jago hobbled off as fast as he could towards the doors. He shuffled right past Louise but every eye in the waiting room was now on Braden, yelling at the top of his not-so-tiny voice.

Outside, Miranda couldn’t wipe the grin off her face, she was so relieved that Braden was fine and amused by the sight of Jago hopping along at an insane pace. He hopped towards the Land Rover like a man spotting an oasis in the desert, but suddenly overbalanced without warning. Miranda caught him, his weight almost taking her with him. She gasped out loud. ‘Hey!’

His unexpected grip was tight around her arm. In an instant, he released her and regained his balance with the aid of the car bonnet. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve hurt you,’ he said.

‘No. I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.’ She laughed. ‘Long John Silver.’

‘Pieces of eight!’ he squawked pathetically.

She
laughed and opened the door for him. ‘That was the parrot.’

‘Bloody nuisance, these things,’ he said waving the crutches. ‘But at least Louise didn’t see us, thank God. I don’t want any more fuss.’

‘I’m well aware of that but you do realise this story might get into the papers? I might have to answer some questions from the press about it and they’ll want to know who the rescuer was.’

‘I’ll sack you if you tell them.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I don’t really mean I’ll sack you but … Oh, can’t you just tell them to piss off?’

‘Great idea. I can see it now. “So, Miranda, does Lord St Merryn have any comment for South West Television on the incident in which he saved a toddler from drowning?” “Oh yes, he says you can all just piss off.” Southcastle Estates would love to hear you saying that. In that case, maybe I definitely should quote you.’ Jago rolled his eyes in despair. ‘I suppose I could say the identity of the victims is confidential and we can’t comment. That might fend them off?’ He brightened. ‘But you know, there were plenty of people with phones taking pictures. It might even get onto YouTube.’

‘Jesus, I hope not!’

She decided he’d had enough torture for one day. ‘You’ll just have to keep your fingers crossed. Come on, Long John, let’s get you back to the ship.’

He shook his head. ‘Not yet.’

‘No?’

‘You know that thing we did before Braden fell into the sea?’

He meant the kiss. Her lips tingled at the memory. ‘So you remember this time?’

‘Yes. I do. I shouldn’t have done it. Not earlier and not in the boat.’

She felt
angry, even though he’d finally acknowledged what went on between them. ‘Like you said we were pissed,’ she said, the hurt making her sarcastic.

‘Not that pissed. In my case, not very pissed at all.’

She wanted to scream. ‘Then why deny it? Why?’

‘Because I’m a bastard and because I was afraid of what might happen if we’d carried on, but that stops now. It’s time I faced up to my responsibilities, as you keep telling me.’ He touched her arm gently. ‘But please, not here at the hospital and not at the Mount. Let’s drive. I need some fresh air.’

Miranda pulled
into a cliff edge space above the Towans, the great sand dunes that backed St Ives Bay. Puffs of dust from the dry gravel rose under her sandals as she slid down from the driver’s seat. It was late in the afternoon; most people were hauling their tired bodies off the beach, wetsuits turned down to their waists, carrying boards. A few people sat outside at the Surfer’s Café, basking in the late rays after a day riding the waves. After opening the door, she handed Jago his crutches from the back of the car. He took them and then stopped.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I need a minute.’

Shading her eyes, she followed his gaze out over the Atlantic, dark blue and seemingly boundless. To the west, the bay swept in a vast curve along the coast towards the headland. Towering white clouds raced across the sky and the air was clear and fresh and pure. She had the feeling that she would never want to move forwards or back but stay here, frozen in one moment where the past and future didn’t matter and yet she felt her skin prickle with dread.

‘I’d forgotten …’ His
voice was barely audible above wind and sea and crying gulls.

She knew exactly what he meant, and felt exactly what he felt. Just for a few seconds. ‘How beautiful this place is?’

‘Yes.’

She walked beside him as he hopped down the path, ignoring the pitying and amused glances of surfers passing by. ‘How long has it been since you were up here?’ she asked.

‘Years. You?’

‘Months. I think that November was the last time. I came up here with the manager of Trevarra House on our way back from a tourism seminar in St Ives.’

There was a shriek as a bunch of young surfers ran past, high on adrenaline and endorphins. A fleeting smile crossed Jago’s face as if he was remembering how they felt. ‘How often do you even get off the island?’ he asked.

‘Whenever I can spare to the time. I walk to the village shops and the Pilchard, of course.’ She waited for a reaction but got none. ‘I get my hair cut, then there are historical conferences, visits to other properties … and Ronnie and I go into Penzance to the cinema and the bars with a few mates as often as we can.’

She had the distinct impression he was merely making small talk, before delivering some unwelcome news. ‘
How’s the family? Lovely weather and, by the way, you’ve just lost your job and your house has burned down
.’

She almost smiled. ‘Jago. This isn’t about me. You said you wanted to explain why you’re so desperate to get rid of the Mount. Is it because of something that happened at university or while your father was alive? Is that why you went to Australia, to get away from something awful that happened here?’

Jago’s stomach
tightened. He fought to wipe out a vision of Rhianna, a dried-up husk just like the driftwood littering the beach. Then he compared her with Miranda, with her glowing cheeks, sunlight reflecting in her eyes, hair shining in the sun. The contrast with his last memory of Rhianna was still painful. He ought to be over her death but coming home to the Mount again had made him realise he might never move on, not in the way he’d once planned. Or, his heart whispered, that he
could
move on but that the risk of getting hurt again was more than he could face.