Miranda's Mount (21 page)

Sense? For him, not for her, but what
could
she say? He’d dragged these painful memories from some raw place inside him and it must be hurting him. It definitely hurt her to hear them, because she empathised with his pain and because of their finality. She managed another question in reply. ‘What will you do after the sale?’

‘I’ll make sure my mother is secure for the rest of her life, of course. I’ll set up a charity trust fund with the proceeds and with the rest I’ll buy a boat and just see where it takes me.’

‘For how long? You can’t do that forever.’

‘That’s just the point, I don’t know where I’ll go, or for how long. There will be no plans or responsibilities and that suits me for now.’ He hesitated then said: ‘I should be over it now, over her, shouldn’t I?’

‘Since when did “should” make any difference to the way we feel? There’s no time limit on grief,’ said Miranda. Or guilt, either, she could have added but was too kind to. In truth, that was Jago’s biggest demon, she thought. His guilt at being helpless at the end of Rhianna’s life. Or perhaps his guilt at feeling ready to move on – with another woman, with her?

But
saying any of those things felt so wrong, it was almost laughable. The only thing she could do, she did instinctively: reached out and touched his arm in empathy and reassurance. Possibly a big mistake on her part for his skin was warm under her fingertips, the muscle in his forearm solid and she wanted him more than she ever had. He stopped seeing refuge in the surf and turned to her, his expression gentle but reining back a dam of emotion. His hand reached for hers and held it lightly as if he was sending a signal: I care about you but not too much, not enough to stay. ‘You and me. It has to end because it can’t go anywhere. I’ll only hurt you. You do understand?’

Her heart felt as if it had stopped. The wind slapped at her body. She wanted to kiss him again and feel that warm mouth on hers. ‘You can’t hurt me.’

‘Don’t deny you have feelings for me. I do – I care about you.’

It cost her everything but she wouldn’t give into him. ‘As you said yourself, sod me. It’s the Mount I care about. The people. I don’t matter.’

He stared at her and shook his head. ‘You are impossible, Miranda.’

‘Not impossible. Just honest and realistic, as you’ve been with me.’

He took his crutches and struggled to his feet. ‘You don’t have to lie.’

‘I won’t lie. There’s no point. I don’t like what you’re doing and I happen to think it’s the wrong decision but I’ll respect it. For the sake of your mother and the staff, I’ll try to make the process as smooth as possible, but if I can, I’ll still try to fight it.’

‘Suit
yourself, but you’re wasting your time. Try if you like, fight me if you want, but in the end, you’ll lose.’

She’d lied
about not caring, of course, because she felt so hurt and devastated. He cared for her? What? Like a puppy or a faithful retainer? A lapdog? She was way, way too proud to settle for that. But pride would only carry her so far. It kept her going as she drove him home and back along the causeway to the castle. She offered to help him back up to the castle but, as she’d expected, and hoped, he refused.

Over the next few days, there was no point trying to keep out of his way; they had to work together every day and, since he’d found her asleep in the office, he’d taken it upon himself to spend more time ‘helping’ out, hobbling around the office and literally getting under everyone’s feet. Miranda longed for a wand to magic Jago out of the office. After their conversation at the beach, she’d rather have worked round the clock on her own than in such close proximity to him. He kept things strictly professional, of course, and, she had to admit, the extra help had given both her and her staff a little more time to devote to the Festival and she could hardly kick him out.

Late
one afternoon, Miranda sat enjoying a rare moment of relative peace while Jago worked in his study when Ronnie popped her head round the office door.

‘Someone to see you, Miranda.’

‘Who is it?’

Ronnie tapped her nose. ‘Surprise.’

‘I don’t like surprises.’

‘You’ll love this one.’

For a heart-stopping moment, Miranda imagined that somehow her mother was standing outside on the quay. Yet that was impossible because her mother probably had no idea what she was doing, let alone any desire to see her again. And Ronnie wouldn’t have been grinning like a Cheshire cat if that had been the case, or teased her about who was waiting. She followed Ronnie out onto the quayside.

An empty pushchair stood outside the office door. Louise Dixon was crouched down by an old anchor with her son tightly held between her legs. He reached up his hand and touched the anchor, his mouth opened in an ‘o’. Miranda’s stomach did a little flip. He was a chubby little boy but tiny all the same next to the huge iron anchor. She walked forwards, smiling. ‘Hello, again, Braden.’

Louise stood up, clutching Braden’s hand tightly. She seemed embarrassed. ‘Hello. Bet you hoped you wouldn’t see us again but I – that is me and Braden – wanted to say thank you for saving him. Didn’t we, Braden?’

Braden didn’t look grateful. He grasped his mum’s hand and slunk behind her legs, peeping warily out at Miranda as if she was the Green Goblin.

‘You didn’t have to thank us that but it is lovely to see you, and nice to see Braden looking so … well. How’s he doing?’

Braden
thrust a chubby finger up his nostril.

‘Don’t do that, Braden! I’ve told you your head will cave in if you dig out all the bogeys.’ Louise scooped him up and swung him towards Miranda. ‘He’s right as rain now. Kiss the nice lady who saved you from the water.’

He shook his head so hard Miranda thought it might fall off and then buried his face in his mum’s neck.

‘He’s shy.’

‘It’s fine and I don’t blame him. We’re the funny people who did all that weird stuff to him.’

‘You saved his life,’ said Louise. ‘You and the dark-haired guy. Jacob or Jamie something, is it? Sorry, I can’t remember. I heard some of the lifeboat people saying he lived on the island but, to be honest, I was so worried about Braden, I didn’t take anything in. Does he work here? I’d like to say thanks to him. He’s a real hero.’

Miranda cringed inwardly. Jago would hate a fuss but she could hardly refuse to let Louise see him. Besides, she thought wickedly, he oughtn’t to get out of this one. ‘He won’t think he’s a hero but you can have a word with him if you like. He’s called Jago.’

Louise’s face lit up. ‘Shall we go and see the nice man who dived into the sea to get you out?’ Braden pushed his face into his mum’s shoulder. ‘I’d like to meet him again, even if Braden doesn’t. One day he’ll be grateful,’ she said.

‘I hope
not. It’s maybe just as well he won’t remember. Come on, then, I’ll see if we can find him.’

Jago’s foot was healing well. In fact, he’d abandoned the crutches the day after he’d got back from the hospital. She’d seen him from a distance only that morning, crossing the courtyard, limping slightly. In fact, Miranda thought he was fit enough to be called to the quayside to spare Louise and Braden the steep walk to the top of the Mount, but she suspected he’d never come down if he heard who was here to see him. She also knew he was preparing for his meeting with Southcastle. Her distraction wasn’t entirely a charitable act but she didn’t care.

‘’kin hell. Oh, sorry.’ Louise stopped to lean against a wall, depositing Braden on the steps but still keeping a tight hold of his hand. ‘How do you do this every day?’

Miranda wondered if she should radio Jago after all. ‘It is very steep. I’d carry him for you if you like but I don’t think he’ll come to me?’

‘Will you let the lady take you, Braden?’ He hid behind his mum and she let out a big sigh.

‘I wish there was an easier way up here but it’s not too far now. Let me carry your bag, at least.’

By the time they got to the castle, Louise’s face was almost crimson. Miranda had tried to keep chatting to her to pass the time. There didn’t seem to be any mention of Braden’s dad and Miranda wondered if she had to cope with her little boy on her own. Must be tough. Apart from a fascination with picking his nose, he was a gorgeous little boy, all big blue eyes and curls as pale as moonlight. The picture of innocence. She smiled to herself, imagining that was how Jago had looked once, when he was a toddler. Maybe he’d picked his nose too. Lady St Merryn would have rapped his knuckles for that.

She
bit her lip so she didn’t laugh out loud. They’d reached the castle door.

‘What does he do, here, this Jago?’ asked Louise as Miranda hesitated in the archway to the courtyard.

Should she warn Louise who Jago was? Trouble was there didn’t seem an easy way of saying it.

‘Is he a workman? He didn’t sound local but then, I had other things on my mind. He might have been Matthew McConaughey crossed with Brad Pitt for all I cared. Or is he one of the gardeners? I love gardens but I’ve got a flat … Oh look, Braden! There’s that man who pulled you out of the water.’

Jago trotted down the steps from the castle to the courtyard just as Miranda, accompanied by Louise and Braden, puffed up the flagstones and under the archway. Fleetingly, and Miranda guessed only she’d noticed, a look of dismay crossed his face, but he managed a smile and walked briskly across the courtyard towards them.

‘Hello there, Braden,’ he said. ‘And Louise, isn’t it?’

‘Louise Dixon,’ said Miranda as Braden took his finger out of his nose and stared at Jago. ‘Louise, this is Jago St Merryn, the owner of the Mount.’

Miranda had seen plenty of jaws drop at the sight of the Mount but rarely had she seen one plunge quite so dramatically as Louise’s.

‘Shit. I mean, shit, your lordship.’

Jago laughed out loud. ‘Oh God, please call me Jago or I’ll have to have you clapped in irons. I hate all that formal stuff.’

‘Right.’ Louise’s eyes were out on stalks at Jago’s dishevelled appearance. He’d obviously been doing a spot of decorating, judging by the paint-spattered overalls. I am a lost cause, thought Miranda, wondering if he’d got anything on underneath.

But
Louise recovered faster than she had. ‘Ermm … I’ve brought you something. It seems really daft now, considering who you are, but I thought you worked here you see and … anyway, it was all I could think of.’

She pulled out a plastic carrier from her baby bag and handed it to Jago. Miranda smiled. It was from the Mount’s gift shop.

Jago opened it and pulled out a print. It was a Victorian scene, dramatic and detailed. It showed a sailing ship tossing in a stormy sea beyond the Mount, a rowing boat by its side, local fishermen trying to rescue the stricken sailors.

His face lit up with pleasure and Miranda could see he was deeply touched. She thought she might cry as Jago turned the print round so that Braden could see it. She wondered if Jago was thinking what might have been if Rhianna had lived and they’d had children.

‘Thank you,’ he said. Braden opened his rosebud mouth and reached out a hand to touch the picture. ‘And thank you, Braden.’

‘Boat! Boat!’

Louise set Braden down on the cobbles and Jago crouched down so he could show the little boy the picture. ‘Yes. It’s a big boat from a long time ago and here’s the castle. Look.’

Braden
toddled forwards. ‘Cattle,’ he said. Jago laughed. ‘Yes, it’s the castle. Here’s the tower.’

Braden’s face creased. ‘Trowur. Cattle.’ Then he chuckled so hard that they all burst out laughing too. ‘Boat. Man.’

Unexpectedly, Braden placed his small, sticky hand in Jago’s large one. Jago glanced at him and Miranda saw him struggling to hold back his emotions. Miranda’s own throat tightened and her eyes prickled. Don’t say she was going to blub? Not here in front of Louise who seemed oblivious to the effect Braden was having on her and Jago.

‘Is it all right if we have a look round the courtyard?’ Jago asked Louise.

‘Yeah, sure. Braden, you can have a walk with Jago, if you like. I’ll be here watching, so it’s all right.’

They walked off towards the corner of the courtyard where Jago bent down to show him a gargoyle spitting water into a trough. Both boys, big and small, splashed their hands in the stream of water. Louise chatted away to Miranda but she had trouble concentrating, unable to banish the feeling that she was on the brink of tears.

She’d missed so much in her relationship with her own mother. Could she have made more of an effort to understand her mum when she was a teenager? Many times since then, she’d wondered if she’d done the right thing by leaving in such a brutal, final way but perhaps she could forgive herself for that. She’d been young, hurt and angry, and her mother’s final betrayal had been the straw that had broken her.

But staying away for twelve years had killed any relationship she might have had with her mother stone dead. Long ago, she’d decided there was no point in trying to contact her mum. It was too late for them now, just as it was for Jago and Rhianna.

She chatted
to Louise for a little while about the island until Jago carried Braden back towards them in his arms. The little boy looked sleepy, rubbing his eyes with his fists and then wiping his nose on Jago’s overalls.

‘Sorry,’ said Louise, looking embarrassed.

He grinned. ‘No problem. I think the walk up here has whacked him out.’

‘It’s done me in but you’re really lucky to live here,’ said Louise. ‘You too, Miranda.’

Miranda’s throat was still scratchy with emotion but she made a joke. ‘Keeps me fit, that’s for sure.’

Louise lowered her voice. ‘Heating bills must be shit, though?’

Jago was momentarily taken aback then a grin spread across his face. ‘Bloody shocking, if you must know.’

Braden’s head was lolling.

‘He’s tired out. I’d better get him home.’

‘I’ll help you down to the quay,’ Jago offered.

The journey down was ten times easier. Miranda followed Jago down the steps, carrying Louise’s bag, pointing out a few things as they went. Jago carried Braden to the door of the visitor centre where his pushchair was stored and one of the staff appeared.