Miranda's Mount

by Phillipa Ashley

  ‘The St Merryns leave.’ She couldn’t believe she’d actually heard him say that. It was … obscene, the family leaving the Mount, after so long.

  ‘I don’t understand why you have to sell it at all?’

  His mouth set in a hard line. ‘Because I can and I want to. More importantly, the time is right. I’ve received a very good offer for the place from Southcastle Estates and I’ve decided to accept it.’

  Miranda’s mouth gaped. ‘Southcastle? The leisure corporation that owns Ye Olde Warbeck Towers and the Rockholme Medieval Experience?’

  ‘And Thornley Pleasure Beach, several pub chains, a bingo empire and a substantial portion of Kensington.’

  ‘But they’ll turn it into a tacky theme park!’

  His voice was sharp. ‘That’s an exaggeration. They’ve assured me they won’t make major changes.’

  It couldn’t be real. Surely this was a fantasy like last night and she’d wake up in her bedroom with the window banging and Ronnie shouting.

  In that moment, she came as close to telling him to stuff the Mount up his aristocratic arse as she had ever come. And yes, there had been a few times when she’d felt that way about her job. Never mind that the Mount was regarded as a jewel of Britain’s heritage, it would now be turned it into Disneyland.

  She jumped to her feet, knowing that she had to put some distance between them or she might do something she’d regret.

  ‘I know you need time to take this in but, please, hear me out first.’

  She shook her head, the tears stinging the back of her eyes. She would not cry in front of Jago. ‘Not now. I have to go. I’ve got a lot to do.’

  She walked out, ignoring the fact that an iron ball seemed to have settled in her chest. Never mind her silly fantasies, Jago was a real brigand who’d come in the night intent on stealing the future of everyone who worked on the Mount. She dashed around a sharp turn in the path but Reggie blocked her route down to the quayside.

  ‘Miranda! I’m glad I’ve found you. We have a fracas down at the café.’

  She waved him away. ‘Not now, Reggie.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Can’t you deal with it yourself? You were in the Special Forces.’

  Reggie folded his arms, his bulk almost blocking her way. ‘Yeah I was, but dealing with a coach party of WI ladies whingeing about the quality of the catering is not what I’m trained to do. Unless you want me to abseil through the roof and take them all out?’

  ‘No, of course not … Oh, can’t you just get the café manager to sort them out?’ She squeezed past him and scuttled off down the path. Oh, shit, shit, shit.

  Reggie didn’t deserve that from her. He’d worked for the St Merryns for years, even longer than Miranda. Despite Jago’s ‘assurances’, she knew that Reggie’s livelihood and his very reason for being were now in jeopardy. Jago might genuinely believe that Southcastle Estates would keep the status quo and look after the Mount’s staff, but Miranda was a realist. She knew their aim would be to capitalise on their investment – which must run to tens of millions of pounds. Profit and growth would drive every decision they made; making enough to keep the Mount ticking over would not be enough. Anyone considered not to be pulling their weight would have to go.

  She stopped to catch her breath on her ‘favourite’ terrace. Across the sea, the windows of Nanjizal glittered in the morning sun and the masts of the yachts pointed skywards in the small marina. The bright orange lifeboat bobbed alongside the harbour wall, probably recently returned from a ‘shout’.

  ‘You know your trouble,’ her mother used to say, when justifying yet another disruption to Miranda’s young life. ‘Your trouble is that you get too attached to people and they only let you down. Take it from me; don’t wear your heart on your sleeve.’

  The Mount wasn’t even a person, it was just a job but it was too late to unattach herself now. After a childhood spent moving from one school, caravan and ‘stepfather’ to another, this place had represented stability and continuity. That was why she’d studied history at university in the first place. It was why she’d volunteered at historic properties, working in the cafés and cleaning the toilets until she finally got her degree and a job as a junior in the Mount’s ticket office. She knew she’d been looking for a place she could connect with the past and future and the fact that it was someone else’s past didn’t matter. She’d made it her own now, in so many ways.

  A stray ice cream wrapper flapped around her ankles. It must have been tossed over the wall of the keep far above her. A brief snatch of young laughter reached her on the wind. Children, playing, not thinking. It happened … She really must have a word with the maintenance department about providing more litter bins … She stepped forwards to pick it up but it whirled away from her. She dashed after it. ‘Bugger!’

  It flew off, tantalisingly out of reach.

  ‘Bloody rubbish!’

  A large boot stamped on the wrapper, trapping it.

  Miranda stared at Jago as he screwed up the wrapper and shoved it in his jeans pocket. Why had he followed her? She hadn’t wanted to see him again, whilst she felt so raw.

  ‘There’s no use asking you not to hate me, I know you must,’ he said.

  ‘Of course I don’t hate you. It’s your property. You can do what you like with it,’ she said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

  ‘If only it were that simple.’

  ‘Why isn’t it?’

  His eyes flashed angrily. ‘It’s personal. I don’t have to explain myself. I know it’s going to be a challenge but I need you to work with me and with Southcastle during the handover. The staff are going to look to you to guide them through this. I’m selling, I won’t change my mind, and so we’re all just going to have to make the best of it.’

  It sounded as if Jago was already infected with South-castle’s corporate speak and seduced by their promises. She was surprised in one way, but not in another. It was clear he wanted as easy a way out of his responsibilities as possible. He was no Lady St Merryn.

  ‘This will be a massive change for them; some won’t survive it,’ she said.

  ‘Maybe not. There’ll be generous redundancy for those that want it.’

  ‘Working here isn’t just a job. It’s their lives and their homes, in some cases.’

  ‘No one will lose their job or home. I’ll make sure of it.’ He shifted awkwardly. ‘I must also ask you not to share this news with anyone else yet. I know that will be difficult but the deal is at a delicate stage. I want time to have everything legally settled, so I can protect everyone.’

  Miranda was furious that he’d shifted the burden to her; it added insult to injury. ‘You won’t be able to protect them. Only as lord can you do that. It’s your duty.’

  ‘This isn’t the thirteenth bloody century. I don’t have a duty, beyond to my mother and, I might add, to myself.’

  Miranda’s mouth opened in shock. His tone was so hard and laced with bitterness.

  ‘Look, I promise you I’ll do my utmost to take care of the staff. And you.’

  His voice softened but she was in no mood to cut him an inch of slack. ‘I don’t care about me. I can get another job.’

  He raised his eyebrows then shrugged. ‘I know you can but, as for the Mount, you must accept my decision. I’m selling to Southcastle and my mother agrees with me. I suggest you talk to her. Now, please, our conversation is confidential; I can’t force you not to tell the staff, but I do expect you not to. Let’s make this as painless as we can for all concerned.’

  They faced each other, the sea crashing onto the rocks below, children laughing above them on the courtyard. Jago turned away, leaning on the wall. She knew he was guilty and ashamed but she hardened her heart and steeled herself to ask what she’d been dreading to know.

  ‘When’s … it happening?

  His voice was barely audible, snatched away by the wind. ‘The end of the season.’

  She gasped. ‘That soon?’


  ‘It’s five months. November is a long time away.’

  Miranda closed her eyes.

  Five months in eight hundred years? It was just a heartbeat.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘I’m sorry, my dear. I know the news has come as an awful shock. Perhaps I should have warned you first but I needed to speak to Jago. I wanted to tell you but he insisted on telling you himself.’

  Lady St Merryn handed Miranda a cup of tea. The best day china service was out so Miranda knew things were serious. Her gnarled hand trembled as Miranda took the cup. How could she not have noticed how tired she’d become? Maybe, her heart whispered, because she’d been so completely wrapped up in her work. What other things were passing her by as she devoted her life to the Mount?

  ‘Thank you.’

  Lady St Merryn inched her body down onto the seat of the armchair.

  ‘I hadn’t realised …’ Miranda began.

  ‘Why should you?’ Lady St Merryn winced. ‘It’s not just the arthritis though, I must admit, it’s getting me down.’

  That meant it must be excruciating, Miranda thought.

  ‘What do they say? It’s not just the years, it’s the mileage? My dear, I’ve given most of my life to this place. I was barely nineteen when I married Patrick and I’ve managed for fifteen years since he died. I love every stone of the Mount and everyone who works here, even the visitors.’

  Miranda noticed she didn’t say anything about loving her husband. ‘I know.’

  ‘But lately, I’ve begun to doubt myself. I may not have very long.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Lady St Merryn waved a hand. ‘It’s nothing terminal, please don’t worry about that. Apart from the usual things heading south and seizing up, I can’t complain.’ She pointed to her head. ‘It’s up here, my dear, that the problem lies. I need to see what’s beyond these shores before it’s too late. For so long, my world has literally revolved around this tiny island and you might not believe me but I have plans. I want to see what’s out there. You may think I’m a batty old thing but I want to see the world. The great big world.’

  ‘Of course not. I don’t blame you.’ Miranda gave a tight smile. No matter how much she’d tried to see Lady St Merryn’s point of view, she still felt horribly let down. Surely there was some way that his mother could change Jago’s mind?

  ‘I called Jago back to try to persuade him to take over the reins. It was a vain hope, of course. He absolutely refuses.’ Miranda realised that Lady St Merryn wanted her to defend Jago but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. ‘By your silence, I can see you don’t approve but, please, don’t judge my son too harshly. You don’t know what he’s been through.’

  Been through? Miranda wanted to understand Jago’s decision-making and waited for Lady St Merryn to elaborate but she just sighed. ‘There’s nothing to be done but to try to make the best of it, I’m afraid. You’ve done a marvellous job here and Jago assures me the new owners will respect the staff. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about.’

  What could she say? She felt angry with Jago and betrayed by his mother, and angry with herself for being so disappointed. Lady St Merryn’s words about the big wide world also played on her mind. Was she confining herself too tightly? Wasting her own life working for these people who clearly felt they owed her nothing? Maybe she should start looking outside this cosy islet. She’d been here since she’d left university and perhaps now was the time for her to branch out too and the sale of the Mount was her opportunity. Maybe, the sale was fate.

  She replaced her cup carefully in its saucer, feeling nauseous and unconvinced by her own reasoning. Her radio crackled. ‘Excuse me.’ She listened for a minute as one of the security team spoke to her.

  ‘Trouble?’ asked Lady St Merryn as Miranda replaced the radio in her belt.

  ‘One of the birdwatchers has slipped and hurt his ankle trying to get a picture of the choughs.’

  Lady St Merryn rolled her eyes. ‘I really have no idea what the fascination with birds is. All the damn things look the same to me and they make a mess everywhere. Still, you’d better go and see how this twitcher person is. Soon, these things will be no concern of mine, which, perhaps, may turn out to be a good thing in the end. This place probably needs fresh blood, it’s just a pity it won’t be a St Merryn’s.’

  Miranda stood up, determined to fight her corner whatever the consequences. ‘Lady St Merryn, this isn’t my place to say but can’t you …’

  ‘Persuade Jago to change his mind?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I have tried, my dear, but there’s no hope, I’m afraid. I’ve never seen my son so set on anything as getting rid of this place.’

  Chapter Eight

  Miranda had gone back to the cottage after speaking to Lady St Merryn. She’d denied herself any tears, simply splashed her face with cool water and tried to compose herself before heading back to the office.

  It was a midweek day in May, so not horrendously busy, although there were plenty of people milling about on the quayside. While the visitors at this time of year were still mainly younger families and older couples, there was a school party sitting at the picnic tables outside the visitor centre, tucking into their packed lunches. The kids were huddled in their jumpers and waterproofs and Miranda didn’t blame them. The Mount’s position left it exposed at the best of times and it was now a dull, cool day; the sky seemed to be painted entirely from a palette of grey. She zipped up her fleece to her chin and tried not to romanticize the place; she’d done far too much of that already and it seemed pointless now.

  She walked around the harbour and saw a familiar figure in the process of manoeuvring a small RIB alongside the harbour wall.

  ‘Hi there!’

  Catching sight of her, the man shouted and Miranda flapped a hand in his direction. Tears started to spring to her eyes again at the sight of his broad grin, as if he was a friendly face among people who had let her down so unexpectedly and were no longer what she’d thought they were.

  ‘Miranda! Here, grab this!’ He threw her the mooring rope, and she held on while he leaped up the stone steps and onto the quayside. ‘Thanks.’

  Miranda admired the taut muscles in his forearms as he secured the RIB’s ropes to the mooring post on the harbourside. Theo was ruggedly handsome in the way of men who battled the elements for a living and loved it. She thought of the contrast between Jago, selling the Mount and his soul, and Theo, who would have given his soul for the community. She dug her nails in her palm, wondering if it had really been such a great idea to meet Theo now when she felt so raw. The news she’d just heard weighed on her like a great slab of stone.

  Theo turned his eyes on her. Miranda always laughed when she heard anyone’s eyes described as ‘blue as the sea’ but that’s just what Theo’s were like: deep blue-green like the shallow waters of the bay when viewed from the heights of the Mount. He must have known she was watching him. Tiny lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes as he smiled at her. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t call in sooner but I ended up covering for another coxswain in St Ives on my day off and then I had to get the engine repaired on the RIB.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Miranda, feeling both cheered and a little discomfited as she always did in Theo’s presence. She was never sure if he took her seriously as manager of the Mount and suspected he was faintly amused by her passionate commitment to someone else’s property. Yet Miranda wasn’t turned on by the St Merryns’ position like some royal hanger-on, she just loved the chance to be in charge of almost a thousand years of heritage, even if it was borrowed.

  Theo climbed up onto the quay. ‘How’s things?’

  Crap, she wanted to say, crapper than the crappiest thing in the whole world. Instead, she managed a non-committal shrug.

  ‘Oh dear. Are you OK? You look a bit pale.’

  ‘I’m fine. Late night.’

  Theo folded his arms, his biceps bulging. ‘You work too bloody
hard. Don’t let them run you into the ground. The St Merryns will take advantage if you let them. Especially him.’ He flipped a thumb in the direction of the castle.

  ‘News travels fast,’ said Miranda, realising at once who Theo meant.

  ‘His lordship’s been spotted in the village already. Not on his own, of course.’

  Did Theo mean he’d seen Jago with a woman, or women, Miranda wondered, more mortified than ever about her stupid pirate fantasies. The note of sarcasm in Theo’s voice was also ringing alarm bells. So there had been something in Ronnie’s comments about Jago and Theo. They were a similar age, was there some history between them?

  ‘Why’s the git back here anyway? Run out of money, and wants a sub from Lady St Merryn?’ Theo gave a rueful smile. ‘It’s OK, I’ll shut up about Jago. I’m sure he’s not likely to run out of cash but I hope he’s not here to make trouble for you and the people at the Mount.’

  Trouble was exactly what Jago had caused and recent news was just the start of it. But she couldn’t possibly tell Theo that. ‘I don’t really know. I’ve kept out of his way as much as I can.’

  He frowned. ‘You look about as comfortable as a fish on a hook. I was joking but if Jago is here to make life difficult, it wouldn’t surprise me. The landlady of the Pilchard almost dropped a glass when he strolled in a few days ago.’

  ‘So he was in there before he came back to the Mount?’

  Theo nodded. ‘Apparently there were women swarming round him. Likes to make an impact, does his lordship.’

  The image of Jago surrounded by fawning girls fitted in so well with Miranda’s actual and imaginary idea of Jago that she longed to believe it. Too much, in fact. She decided to take Theo’s report of the prodigal’s return with a small but healthy pinch of salt and yet Jago had been in the pub, there was no denying that, and her own experience in the armoury had proved he liked to make an impact. She itched to ask Theo for the juicy details but didn’t want to betray more than casual curiosity.