Miranda's Mount

by Phillipa Ashley

  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.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  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.

  ‘Lady St Merryn just phoned the office. There’s an important call for you, Lord St Merryn.’

  ‘Can’t it wait?’

  ‘Her ladyship says not. She told them you’d call back immediately. Do you want to phone from the office?’

  Jago frowned and hesitated. ‘No. I’ll go back up to the castle. Thanks.’ He ruffled Braden’s hair as Louise took him and strapped the sleepy boy into his pushchair.

  ‘I’m afraid we have to go to catch the boat, it’s the last one of the day,’ said Miranda, wondering if the call was from Southcastle.

  Jago smiled. ‘Goodbye then, Braden and Louise. Come back and visit any time you like.’

  ‘We’d love to. I know Braden would.’ Louse looked so delighted that Miranda felt almost guilty. It was their harbour that Braden had fallen into. When Jago had gone, Miranda escorted Louise and Braden to the boat, helping Louise to lift the pushchair over the cobbles, so as not to disturb her son. His long lashes brushed his chubby cheeks as he slept in his chair.

  ‘How d’you keep your hands off him?’ asked Louise as Miranda helped her lower the pushchair onto the gangway.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Oh come on, you must fancy the pants off him?’

  Miranda gave in pretending she didn’t know what Louise meant. ‘He’s my boss.’

  Louise straightened up. ‘Not gay, is he?’

  ‘Oh God, no!’

  Louise raised her eyebrows. ‘Got some posh totty lined up to marry?’

  ‘I … um … don’t know much about his private life.’

  ‘’Scuse me but that’s crap. You live here, don’t you? I bet you know everything that goes on and you’ve gone bright red. Well, I don’t blame you. I’d shag him. He is totally hot.’

  Braden yawned and opened his eyes. ‘Poo, Mummy … I want a poo.’

  Louise groaned. ‘I’m trying to potty train him. Oh God, not here. Not now. Go to sleep. I’ll take you when we get off the boat. Goodbye, Miranda, and thanks again.’

  ‘A pleasure. Come to the Festival of Fools. Ask for me when you get here and I’ll make sure you have a good time.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The season was in full swing. Even with Jago lending a hand when he could, even with him actually becoming useful, Miranda’s free time was almost non-existent. Lady St Merryn had taken more and more of a back seat, leaving the running to Jago and Miranda, while she made more trips off the island to London and to visit friends.

  The Mount was now open even longer to take advantage of the school holidays. By the time the last visitor had been persuaded and cajoled to leave, it was usually well after six, then there was clearing up, locking up and a final security sweep to organise. The rhythm of the days was exhausting but Miranda had convinced herself that was a good thing.

  Not such a good thing was Jago’s frequent presence in her office.

  One morning, his one-fingered typing, which consisted of squinting at the screen, punctuated by periodic bashing of the keypad and swearing under his breath, had been driving her slowly mad. She was also trying to dispel a series of alarming and very un-PC Secretary-type fantasies. The phone rang and Jago glanced up, a frown on his face because his concentration had been broken.

  Miranda snatched up the handset. ‘Hi, it’s Theo. How’s it going?’

  She glanced at Jago. He was doing his screen staring thing. ‘Fine, thanks,’ she said, trying to sound neutral yet friendly, unwilling to alert Jago to her caller’s identity.

  ‘I was calling to discuss a few more details about the tug of war. The guys are looking forward to it, especially Neem. The bloke will do an
ything to have an excuse to spend time with Ronnie,’ said Theo.

  ‘Yes, it all seems to be going very well,’ Miranda agreed breezily.

  ‘We also need to arrange a precise time and a space for the tug of war. We’ll need a flat surface and a fair bit of room for the guys and the spectators.’

  ‘I’d already thought of holding it in the lower courtyard in between the visitor centre and the café. There’s plenty of room for everyone there.’

  Jago jabbed his keyboard again, concentration creasing a deep line between his eyebrows.

  At the other end of the line, Theo went on, oblivious. ‘OK. What time do you want us? Afternoon is best as the guys have training in the morning.’

  ‘What about mid-afternoon when everything’s in full swing? Say three o’clock?’

  ‘Sounds like a plan. Have you got a team from the Mount sorted yet?’

  Miranda twirled the telephone cord in her fingers. ‘It’s in hand. Reggie’s going to be team captain but he’s still recruiting and training people at the moment. How many did you say we need?’

  ‘Officially we need eight people per team, and the weights have to be roughly even, but that might be difficult for you, considering the size of our lads. One of us will drop out on the day, if things look totally unfair to your lot.’

  ‘We can hold our own!’ Miranda exclaimed. Big mistake. Jago glanced up at her, If he’d been a Jack Russell, his ears would definitely have pricked up.

  ‘Don’t worry. It’s only a bit of fun,’ said Theo, chuckling softly. ‘We won’t take it too seriously if you don’t.’

  Unlike Reggie, thought Miranda. He’d already been drilling his team of gardeners and handymen like the hard-nosed sergeant from An Officer and a Gentleman. Miranda had seen them jogging up and down the castle steps, and performing press-ups in the courtyard. She fully expected them to have buzz cuts and a platoon chant by the day of the Festival.

  ‘Is Jago in the team?’ asked Theo.

  Miranda glanced at Jago, now engrossed in a report from English Heritage. ‘Not as far as I know,’ said Miranda.