Miranda's Mount (17 page)

However, downloading the application form for a Scottish castle was as far as she’d got.

Work had enveloped everything else, which was inevitable at this time of year. Lunch breaks had almost evaporated and the chance to make small talk with the visitors had vanished. She still made her pilgrimage to see the last boat of the day off the island but, after they had left, there was still more paperwork to do in the evenings.

After working nine straight days without a break, she finally cracked. Having spent the morning dealing with an obese Manchester United fan who’d had been taken to the mainland with heat exhaustion, she retreated to her office with a thumping headache. She made the mistake of laying her head on the desk for a minute and the next thing she knew, someone shook her arm.

‘Narrgh. Nooo …’

‘Miranda?’

‘Urghh.’

‘Miranda!’

‘Eh?’ She blinked as a face came into focus. ‘Is it morning? My alarm hasn’t gone off.’

‘It’s half past three in the afternoon.’ Jago’s hand lay on her shoulder.

‘Sorry.
I didn’t realise …’

He took his hand away and glared down at her. ‘My mother says you’ve missed your last four days off and refused to take a break.’

‘Have I? Oh God … well, we’re too busy.’ To her horror, Miranda felt moisture on her chin. Don’t say she’d been drooling. She lifted her head and winced.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Bit of a headache. Do you mind getting me a glass of water, please? I’ve got some aspirin in my bag.’

She found the pills while he filled a glass from the staff kitchen. He came back and handed over the water and she took the pills and sipped.

He stood in front of her desk, with his arms folded. ‘Better?’

‘I will be in a few minutes.’

‘Good. Then go home.’

‘But there’s tons of paperwork to do. There’s a health and safety report to complete and I have to finish a proposal for a heritage grant by the end of tomorrow. Oh and the conservator needs to be briefed on the restoration of the tapestry in the library. Then there are the appraisals for the hourly paid staff and …’

He
walked round to her and lifted her elbow. ‘Go home, Miranda. Now.’

‘But who will do all the work?’

‘I will.’

She stared at him. ‘You? You must be joking!’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ He pulled her to her feet.

‘But you can’t. You don’t know how things work. No one does.’

‘No one is indispensible, Miranda, even you. Now, I’ll try my best and what I can’t do, I’ll ask for help from one of the staff.’ He propelled her out of the door, still protesting.

‘Hey, wait!’

Ignoring her, Jago marched her out of the office and onto the quayside.

‘People are looking. I’ll go quietly,’ she said as Daisy stood, hands on hips, and an ‘oh er, missus’ expression on her round face.

He pushed open the front door of her cottage. ‘In you go.’

‘OK, OK. I don’t need herding.’

But she had begun to rather enjoy it – until she remembered he would be in charge of her office.

‘Sit,’ he ordered as he led her into the sitting room. She was so surprised that she did just that. ‘Now, I’ll instruct the staff that you’re not to be disturbed for the rest of today or tomorrow and if they see you in any of the office areas, I’ll get them to report to me. Get some rest.’

*

Two days
off to rest. Miranda faced it with a mix of pleasure, confusion and dismay. She had a ridiculously tingly feeling at Jago’s concern. On the other hand, she dreaded what kind of chaos he might cause in the offices. The staff would be horrified, and Ronnie and Jago would be sure to get into a fight.

By late afternoon, she caved in and phoned one of her assistants to see how things were going.

‘Hello.’

‘Is that you, Miranda?’

Bugger. It was Jago. She hadn’t expected him to actually answer the phone.

‘Yes.’

‘Go away.’

‘But I only wanted to see how you’re getting on. If you
needed
me.’

‘No.’

The phone clicked off. Miranda flopped onto the sofa. Why was it so hard to do nothing? Even when you’d longed to do nothing? She was like one of those hamsters on a treadmill, still frantically running like the clappers even though her wheel had been taken away. She contemplated her mobile, fingers twitching. Perhaps she should text Ronnie and ask her how things were going. Her phone beeped and she jumped. The message was from Jago.

Don’t even think about it.

Stay away from work, he’d said. She knew she should get off the island, Jago was right. The following morning, having pottered round the cottage and half-heartedly looked at in the application form for the Scottish castle and booked a massage at the health spa of a nearby hotel, she decided to catch some rays on the island’s private beach. She made a sandwich for lunch, picked up a novel she’d been meaning to read and shut the door behind her.

She took
a detour to the tiny beach via the offices and thought she could see Jago’s head through the window. What on earth was going on in there? Should she just pop her head round the door and make sure all was well?

No. Jago would expect her not to trust him so it was probably better not to live up to his expectations. She set her eyes straight ahead and unlocked the gate to the private beach. Hidden from the main harbour by a narrow gated walkway through a rocky outcrop, it only had access from the staff route. The concrete walkway led to a small patch of sand and rocks, which was currently covered in shallow water.

She sat down on a rock by the water’s edge, her toes dangling in the sea and the sun warming her cheeks. She could hear a faint buzz of voices on the nearby quayside, the chug of boats, the odd shout or shriek. But she was alone and enjoying a moment of peace.

So it was with a sigh that she heard the latch of the gate opening and heard someone else coming.

It was Jago.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, more brusquely than she’d meant.

He grinned. ‘I own the place.’

‘Oh yes. I meant …’

‘Why am I bunking off?’

‘Mmm.’

‘I decided to give the staff a break from me.’

‘Ah.’

He smiled
ruefully and Miranda almost forgave him for denying they’d almost made love. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and frowned against the sun. She thought of the picture of the serious little boy with his fishing net.

‘There’s a photo of you in your mother’s room that I think was taken down here.’

He frowned as if he didn’t remember then nodded. ‘Yes, I know.’

‘How old were you?’

He shrugged. ‘Six or seven. I’m not sure, but it was a very hot summer, I do remember that. I spent most of it down here on the quayside or beach, rock pooling.’

‘With your father?’

He shook his head. ‘God, no. He was far too busy running this place. We didn’t have a property manager then.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘My mother came down here with me when she could spare the time, but I’m afraid to say that I also had a nanny until I went to prep school.’

Miranda tried not to laugh at the thought of a stern-faced nanny wiping the nose of a scrawny young Jago.

‘I knew you’d find that amusing.’

‘Not at all. I’m sure it’s perfectly proper for the sons of the aristocracy,’ she said with all the solemnity she could muster. ‘What was her name? Binky? Tiggy?’

Jago treated her to a glare, which was strangely enjoyable. ‘Insolent wench. I’m sure I needed watching. Her name was Ursula, if you must know, but I’m afraid I called her Duckface behind her back. Don’t ask. She kept an eye on me and sometimes my mother let me have a few friends over from the village. I don’t think they were here with me that day. Maybe that’s why I look so fed up.’

He looked sad then hopeful. Was he relieved that peace had broken out between them? She was surprised how happy that made her feel.

‘What are you reading?’ he asked, nodding at her book.

‘An historical novel.’

‘Of
course. It’s your day off. You know, I think my presence in that office is a mixed blessing. Ronnie keeps giving me death looks and the two women in the admin centre seem terrified of me. They’re always making an excuse to go off together to the bathroom or to run errands. I feel as if I have the plague but there haven’t been any major disasters yet so you can get on with your book. I’ll go and make a nuisance of myself somewhere else.’

‘No, don’t do that!’ He looked surprised and she shrugged. ‘I mean don’t rush off on my account. This is your beach.’

Her face grew warmer as his gaze slid over her from top to bottom. ‘In that case, are you going to offer to share your lunch? I’m starving.’

She opened her sandwich box and held up a limp crust of bread. ‘Ham or cheese?’

‘What? No caviar or silver spoon? Never mind, either will do. I’m not fussy.’ Miranda handed over the sandwich.

‘Thanks. Shuffle up, then.’ There wasn’t really room but she shifted across the rocky surface towards a patch of barnacles. They ate in silence for a few minutes, Miranda keeping her eyes on the horizon. She could feel Jago next to her, his bare legs almost brushing hers. She knew the hair would tickle, she remembered that from the boat. Why had he pretended they hadn’t almost made love? She swallowed her last piece of crust down furiously, wondering whether to confront him again now they weren’t hungover and knackered.

‘Can we
have a grown-up conversation?’ Jago asked.

She wriggled on the rock uncomfortably. Was he now opening the door for them to talk about what had really happened? ‘Of course. What about?’

‘The sale. Unless there’s something else you think we should discuss.’

‘No … should there be?’

‘No reason that I can think of. We’ll confine the discussion to business.’

‘And leave pleasure out of it?’

‘Perhaps that would be best.’

‘I know we’ve talked about the sale before but please say you’re not serious about it?’ said Miranda.

‘I am serious and I am going to sell.’

‘But to
them
?’

‘Who else but Southcastle? How many people are in the market for a white elephant like this? How many have the finance and the business acumen?’

‘You could let a heritage charity manage it. I’ve thought about it. You don’t have to sell; you could lease it to them instead. That way you could still live here in the castle apartments and at least oversee how the place is run.’

He
smiled. ‘As ever, a compromise from the sensible Miranda.’

‘Don’t patronise me, please. I deserve better than that.’ And she hadn’t always been sensible, she could have added, recalling their drunken night in the boat. Sometimes she could be completely crazy.

‘Yes, you do. I’m sorry but I want a completely clean break with the place. Southcastle know what they’re doing, and precisely because they’re not emotionally attached to the Mount, they’ll keep it going, make a profit and safeguard the future for everyone here.’

‘Are you sure? Do you know how many of the staff will keep their jobs?’

‘As many as possible, if Southcastle are as savvy as I think. I’ll do my very best to make sure everyone’s safe but, once I’ve sold, it’s out of my hands.’

‘Are you sure you just don’t want the responsibility?’ She knew instantly that she’d touched a nerve so raw that the sharp pain flickered across his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said that.’

‘No. You shouldn’t.’

‘I feel so passionate about this place that I don’t want you making the wrong decision and regretting it. Oh, I know you won’t believe me and you’ll only think I’m thinking of myself – my job and the cottage. But it’s not just me and it’s not just the other people who work here. It’s you. I could see you hated Southcastle and can’t bear the thought of handing over the Mount to them.’ She stopped.

He wasn’t angry. His eyes were sad. ‘Miranda, I know your motives are pure but I’ve thought about this for a long time. Longer than you know.’ He reached out his hand, lightly resting it on her arm. Her skin tingled under the warmth of his touch. She wanted to kiss him again while she was sober and in her right mind and see if it felt as good as she remembered.

Instinctively,
she leaned forwards a little and instantly he responded. His mouth closed on hers and she pushed her tongue eagerly inside. She felt every movement of his tongue in her mouth, his hands tangling in her hair, tasted the salt on his lips. She opened her eyes for a second to see him, filling up her vision, his own eyes closed. Then she shut them again, knowing this was real, not a fantasy or a drunken mistake. Only this moment mattered, not the past or the future. Nothing could take this away.

A seagull screamed overhead as Jago took her face in his hands and deepened his kiss. The gull cried again and, when she opened her eyes, Jago’s were open too. He dropped his hands from her face. ‘What’s that?’

A scream seemed to tear the air, and it wasn’t a gull. Shouts came from the harbour side beyond the gate. Miranda’s heart plunged in disappointment that their kiss had been ended and also felt half relieved that it had stopped when it did. ‘It’s probably just teenagers messing about.’

‘I don’t think so.’

Wanting anything but for him to leave, Miranda knew he was right. ‘I’ll have to go and see what the matter is.’

Jago slid off the rock, splashing into the shallow rock pool. ‘No. I’ll go. You’re supposed to be off duty.’

‘I’m sure there’s no need. It will be a fuss over nothing.’

The screams started again. Miranda scrambled to her feet as Jago climbed up onto the stone walkway that led to the gate. ‘It’s not nothing.’

He
ran towards the gate, Miranda right behind, her sandwiches and book abandoned. As she followed him through the gate she saw the crowd clustered at the far end of the harbour. People stared down at the water, pointing, and one woman screamed over and over again.

‘Braden! Someone please help my little boy!’

Jago
started running and Miranda raced after him, tripping on the cobbles in her flip-flops. Her stomach turned over and over and her legs felt like they would give way at any moment. An empty pushchair stood on the quayside. Someone had fallen into the harbour. A child.