‘Fine, thanks to you, Vincent van Goat and Billy Idol are doing just great.’
‘Bloody brilliant!’ He removed his hand and sighed deeply to himself.
Another slightly awkward silence, until Rita turned towards him, her jaw set. ‘I’m so sorry I touched a nerve the other day, about you being single. You’re right, I know nothing about your past.’
‘My wife left me five years ago,’ Jago stuttered. ‘Ran off with my best mate because she was pregnant with his kid.’ Rita felt another surge of guilt at her meanness. ‘So, with Mum in a home and Dad’s dying wish that the farm was not to fall into the hands of a stranger, and me unable to watch the whole sorry cheating saga unfold in front of my eyes, I came back. I decided to continue with what Dad had taught me in scraps and slivers growing up and do the best I could.’ He paused, his gaze distant. ‘So here I am. Living in a bay in Cornwall, with mainly cows and sheep for friends, trying to earn an honest living and bring back my sanity.’
There was something in his tone now. Something cracked and raw.
‘Shit,’ was all Rita could muster.
‘Yes, shit.’ Jago managed a smile. ‘My vision was to move back here, heal, find a partner, start a family, and maybe one day retire here by the sea.’
‘And live happily ever after.’ Rita let out a little laugh. ‘But we know that rarely happens, right.’
He suddenly was serious. ‘And when I said I liked you, Rita, I meant it… more than I’ve liked anyone in a long time. You’re the first woman I’ve trusted since my wife did the dirty.’
Her hand flew to her heart. The words tumbled out of her before she could think. ‘Teo… is… Archie’s son.’
Jago’s voice cracked slightly. ‘I know.’
‘Of course you do.’ Her voice was cool now, sharp with exhausted emotion. ‘You know everything, don’t you?’
He swallowed. ‘Quite a lot, yes.’
Rita ran her hands through her hair. ‘It’s OK. You have to tell me. Every single detail. Warts and all.’
Jago stretched his long legs out in front of him. ‘Where to begin?’
‘How about theverybeginning.’ Rita blew out a huge breath as Jago began his sorrowful soliloquy.
‘OK… My mother… had an affair. My dad, God bless him, wasn’t the life and soul of the party, but he was kind. Steady. A good farmer. A good man. Her lover, my biological father, was full of banter. A good man, too, just with a wandering eye.’
He paused. ‘When I was eighteen years old, my mother told me everything. I couldn’t believe it at first. But she said she’d had a crisis of conscience, then made me promise not to tell my dad. I’ve never known pain like it. Holding that secret. Because my dad… he wasmydad. The man who raised me. Loved me. He was there for me until the day he died last year. I was so grateful for him.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘The affair, it wasn’t love. I know it. It was distraction for my mother. She hated the farm, but she’d never have left. Too easy being with a man who provided. She liked the rebellion, the thrill. And when I came along, well, that cemented it. Precious Isobel, a single mum? She could barely look after herself and was never going anywhere after that.’
He gave a hollow laugh. ‘I don’t think he was her only lover, either. And now she’s burning through his savings in the care homeup at Seahaven Point, three gourmet meals a day and her arse wiped for eternity. Where’s the fairness in that?’
Rita exhaled slowly. ‘So, youdoknow who your real father is, then?’
Jago nodded once, then closed his eyes. ‘I know of him, but I didn’t know him, not really. He died when I was just seven.’ His bottom lip wobbled. Rita felt her heart thud. A knot tightened inside. And then it came, the words she now knew were true, words she hadn’t wanted to believe till now.
‘Mum told me Hilda never knew for certain, but I reckon she did. She does,’ Jago said quietly. Rita gasped and went to speak. He put his hand up to stop her. ‘I don’t remember much but what I do remember is that my dad and Ralph used to work together on the farm sometimes. And that my mum was really sad for a while when I was younger; she was grieving for Ralph, too, I expect. Who knows? But knowing her, like I do… it was probably because her plaything had been taken away.’
Rita shook her head. ‘So, you are the mystery brother. You’re Archie’s brother.’ She gave a small tut. ‘Wow.’
‘Please don’t hate me,’ Jago said, offering a small, cautious smile.
‘It’s a lot,’ Rita admitted with a half laugh, half groan. She closed her eyes, trying to process it. ‘With you and Teo.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Jago’s eyes met hers.
‘So, now it all makes sense – the rift. Hilda’s actions.’
‘Yes, the rift was between the women,’ Jago said.
‘And Hilda being Hilda,’ Rita added, ‘would’ve known how to control the situation, cut the Jenkens off completely. Keep Ralph and my Archie at a distance from her. It makes sense now. It’s so sad, though.’
‘It really is.’ Jago looked out over the ocean.
