Miranda's Mount

by Phillipa Ashley

  A chorus of ‘me’s’ filled the air and a dozen arms shot up in unison. Miranda handed the bucket to a teenage girl in exchange for a pound coin.

  ‘Do ye worst, varlet,’ Jago snarled. ‘I’m Cap’n Jago and I … bloody he–’

  His words were cut off as a wet sponge hit him smack on the nose. Miranda clamped a hand over his mouth. ‘Sorry for Pirate Jago’s language, ladies and gentlemen, but I did warn you he was very wicked.’

  Umpteen sponges later, Jago’s hair was plastered to his head. He licked water from around his lips and snarled, ‘I’ll have you keelhauled, boy!’

  The little boy shrieked in delight, wound up his arm and launched his final sponge. It flew through the air and knocked off Jago’s eye patch as the crowd cheered.

  ‘Yay! I got him again! Mum, can I have another go?’

  Jago shook his head like a dog, sending droplets of water spraying into the air.

  ‘Mum, can I smack him again?’ The boy hopped up and down like Tigger.

  ‘Not now, Jake. I want to go round the craft stalls.’

  ‘But, Mum!’

  Taking his hand, his mother dragged him away from the bucket. Jago sighed in relief.

  A man rolled his sleeves up and grinned. ‘It’s my turn, now. I think Pirate Jago needs a good going over. I used to bowl for my school, you know.’

  Shit. Miranda was getting worried. She’d wanted Jago to suffer but he’d taken over twenty minutes of punishment from children, teenagers, grannies, mums and dads. Three times she’d had to ask some of the fathers in football shirts to show a little restraint but Jago had ruined any of her efforts by growling pirate oaths and insulting their chosen teams. One man, with a huge belly and barbed wire for hair, had spent six pounds on sponges and would have carried on if Miranda hadn’t put a limit on the number of goes.

  ‘Do you have a death wish or something?’ she hissed as she switched on the tap and thrust the hose in the bucket to fill it. Her ballet shoes and clothes were soaked, but she was more worried about Jago.

  ‘I just want to make as much money for Theo’s good cause as possible.’

  She shook her head. ‘The tug-of-war is over, you know. This isn’t a battle.’

  ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, wench.’

  Miranda turned off the tap and stood up. Six rounds of sponges later and there was still a queue lining up. Jago shook away water droplets from his hair and growled menacingly. He reached his arms into the air, laced his fingers together and stretched. The sodden shirt clung to his chest and stomach. His breeches were soaking. He must be freezing because his nipples were showing through the white cotton. Jago caught her staring at him and she rolled her eyes and mouthed ‘You’re crazy.’

  A teenage girl jingled coins. ‘Me next!’

  Miranda shook her head. ‘I’m sorry but think Pirate Jago has taken enough punishment for now.’

  The crowd groaned in disappointment.

  A little girl said plaintively. ‘I want to throw a sponge at the pirate, Mummy!’

  Miranda smiled. ‘We’ll put someone else in the stocks later. There are lots of other attractions and they’re all in a good cause for the lifeboats.’

  A large woman huffed. ‘I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes to do him.’

  ‘I am sorry, madam, but he’s had enough for now. Please, come back later. I’ll allow three more turns but for under threes only.’

  The teenagers thumped off in disgust but the little girl hopped up and down so Miranda took the money from the girl’s father.

  ‘I make children walk the plank!’ Jago bellowed.

  Not ten, but at least a dozen turns later, Jago finally gave in and allowed Miranda to unlock the wooden plank that held him in the stocks.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she asked as the crowd dispersed, muttering.

  He straightened up, wincing. ‘Yes, but I’m not sure I have a coccyx any more. Jesus. Some of those kids could be in the England first XI.’

  ‘It was the fathers I worried about. Why on earth did you have to taunt them?’

  Jago put his hands on his hips and circled his pelvis. Miranda knew he was only stretching his back but she wished he wouldn’t. ‘It got more money for Theo’s boat fund didn’t it?’

  ‘You’re acting like a spoiled boy,’ said Miranda.

  He grabbed her arm. ‘Am I?’

  The silence hung between them for a moment. ‘Jago, what happens between me and Theo is none of your business.’

  ‘No. Of course not. I just don’t want you to get hurt.’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit late for that?’ She could have bitten out her tongue.

  ‘What the hell has he done to you?’

  So, Jago thought Theo had hurt her. ‘He hasn’t done anything to me.’

  ‘Then what did you mean, that it’s a bit late?’

  ‘Nothing. I meant nothing. No, no, I do mean something,’ she said, exasperated beyond the limit. ‘I hate it when you two act like dogs scrapping over an old bone!’

  Jago’s startled expression was quickly replaced with a bitter smile. ‘An old bone? That’s brilliant, Miranda. Now I know what you’ve always reminded me of.’

  ‘It’s not funny! You and Theo are like stroppy teenagers when I’m around. It’s as if you’ve never grown up past fifteen. It’s ridiculous.’

  The smile disappeared from his face as quickly as it had appeared. ‘You’re absolutely right. I am behaving like a teenager but I promise to stop from now on. I can’t answer for Theo; you’ll have to ask him why he seems to hate the sight of me though I can hazard a guess. I expect he thinks I’ve come home to claim my droit de seigneur over you.’

  This was so close to Miranda’s one-time fantasy that she felt her face grow red. ‘I can’t stand here arguing. I’ve got enough to do.’ She picked up the bucket and shoved it at him. She saw Ronnie in the distance, pushing her way through the crowds, waving frantically at her. She didn’t want to get caught arguing with Jago. ‘Please, leave me alone and find something useful to do.’

  Jago, with a face like thunder, ignored the bucket and stalked off towards the castle path.

  ‘Security coming through, folks. Thank you very much!’ Visitors parted like the Red Sea as Ronnie shouldered her way through. Red-faced and panting, she reached Miranda. ‘Bloody hell, where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. You don’t have your radio.’

  Miranda patted her skirt pocket, still reeling from her confrontation with Jago. ‘Haven’t I? I must have left it in the office. What’s up?’

  ‘South West TV want an interview with his lordship, or failing that, they said someone in charge will do. Have you seen him?’

  ‘Um. Not since we finished the stocks. He should be back soon.’ Or maybe not if he found out the TV wanted an interview with him, she guessed.

  ‘Tough. We can’t wait for him. The telly people are getting pissed off and I think they’ll leave if someone doesn’t speak to them soon. Can you do it?’

  She glanced down at her damp clothes. ‘Looking like this?’

  ‘I expect the ratings will go through the roof. And our visitor numbers. Shit, that’s them, coming over now.’

  The cameraman, a sound recordist and a presenter, who Miranda recognised from the evening news programme, headed straight for them.

  ‘Oh no.’

  ‘Smile,’ hissed Ronnie.

  The reporter thrust a microphone in Miranda’s face and beamed. ‘Well, you look as if you’ve been enjoying yourself! Miranda Marshall is the property manager of St Merryn’s Mount, where the annual Festival of Fools is in full swing. Miranda, we’re live on South West Television’s afternoon bulletin. How’s the day gone so far?’

  Live? Oh no! Miranda didn’t have time to think. ‘Um. Fantastic. We’ve got even more visitors than we’d expected and everyone seems to be having a great time.’

  Ronnie hovered by, almost bursting with glee, as Miranda did her duty. She’d given interviews and presentati
ons before, but never wearing a wet wench’s outfit. She felt her hair tickling her face and her neck where it had long ago escaped its ponytail.

  But the way she looked was the least of her worries. Her blood went cold as a sudden dread struck her. What if any rumours about the sale had reached the press? She didn’t see how they could have done, as none of the staff knew, but it was always possible. That would be an absolute disaster.

  The presenter beamed in her face. ‘I hear Lord St Merryn was in the stocks. Was that a highlight of the day?’

  ‘It certainly raised a lot of money for our nominated charity, the local lifeboat station …’

  She hesitated. Jago had materialised again and was standing behind the reporter, grinning fit to burst. Ronnie’s mouth opened in an ‘o’ of surprise and she pointed at her chest, then at Miranda’s. She felt the laces loosening over her bosom and almost fainted. Oh no, not now.

  ‘And what do you think about the future for heritage attractions like the M–’

  The reporter might as well have asked her if fairies existed because Miranda could no longer concentrate. She glanced down at her bust for a split second then heard a creak and a ping. The camera wobbled. Ronnie’s hand flew to her mouth. Jago’s grin melted away and reporter’s eyes nearly popped out. The laces had snapped and her cleavage was on view to half a million viewers of South West Television.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ‘OK then, I think that’s all we have time for. Thank you for joining us, Miranda. Now it’s back to the studio from St Merryn’s Mount. We’ll have an extended report on the festivities here on the evening edition of South West Tonight.’

  ‘That’s it,’ said the reporter as Miranda tried to tug her bodice together.

  She groaned. ‘What a disaster.’

  The reporter was beaming. ‘Oh, don’t worry. That’s one for the blooper reel. You’ll probably end up on out-take shows for years to come. Sorry to spring on you like that, but we’ve got to rush back to base.’

  Miranda wasn’t the least bit comforted and, ignoring Ronnie, she dashed off towards her cottage past grinning visitors. Jago ran after her and grabbed her arm.

  ‘Get off me!’

  ‘Calm down. Come here.’ He led her behind the visitor centre.

  ‘I just showed my rack to half the population of the South West!’ Miranda wailed.

  ‘Not half the population. I’m sure the station only has a few thousand watching at this time of day. Maybe only a couple of blokes in the pub and a little old lady in Penzance at a guess.’

  ‘It’s not funny. Look.’

  He let out a sigh of admiration. ‘Believe me, I did and I am.’

  ‘I hate you sometimes.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that. Here.’ He took off his waistcoat and slipped it over her shoulders. ‘That should cover your modesty until you get to the cottage.’

  Under the relative safety of the waistcoat, she made it to the cottage and unlocked the door. ‘I need to get a new top.’

  Jago followed her into the sitting room. ‘I’ll wait here.’

  She turned. ‘Please, there’s no need. I’ll get changed and see you later.’

  For a moment, she wasn’t sure he would leave. He seemed about to say something and she half held her breath but then he said: ‘OK, I’ll see myself out.’

  Upstairs, she found a faded peasant-style blouse at the bottom of her drawer. After she’d changed, she brushed her hair and secured it back in its ponytail. She stood in front of the mirror and took a few deep breaths. With Jago and Theo following her around like warring brigands, she ought to feel like Cornwall’s luckiest woman but it wasn’t a happy experience. She hoped that the rest of the day could go without incident but that hope was crushed when she finally emerged from the cottage to find Theo hovering in the doorway.

  ‘Ah. Now I see. I’ve been wasting my time, haven’t I?’ he said as she ushered him out and relocked the door.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I saw Jago come out of the cottage earlier. I saw you with him in the stocks and I saw him put his arm around you. Most of all, I saw your face. You’re in love with him.’

  She opened her mouth to deny it then realised it was hopeless. ‘Theo, I like you but …’

  ‘As a friend?’ His lip curled sarcastically.

  ‘Yes. As a friend. I know that makes me the only woman for miles around who likes you only as a friend but …’ She smiled to try to defuse his hurt.

  ‘Slept with you, has he?’

  ‘Now wait a minute!’

  ‘He’ll finish you, you know.’

  She was getting angry now. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Yes, you do, Miranda. You’ve got it bad for Jago, haven’t you? I’m worried about you because he’ll only let you down. He’ll fuck you up and then he’ll be on to some other woman, just like his father. And you’ll be here in five years’ time, still cleaning his toilets while he marries some rich horsey type.’

  Miranda wanted to tell him how wrong he was in every possible way. About her staying and about Jago loving and leaving her but she couldn’t tell Theo that. She couldn’t tell him because she’d made a promise to Jago, a vow that, she knew now, she could no longer keep. The day was drawing to a close and the time had come when he had to let everyone know his plans.

  So, she shook her head and ran a finger over his shoulder. ‘Theo, has anyone ever told you to brush that chip off your shoulder?’

  Theo’s mouth twitched in anger. ‘As a matter of fact, they have. But before you accuse me of being jealous of Jago, you should ask my mother if you want to know what the St Merryns really are. Ask her what happened when Lord Patrick sowed his wild oats. He’d only just got married to Lady St Merryn when he came sniffing round my mother. She had a nervous breakdown after he’d finished breaking her heart and then my dad left us.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean …’ Miranda shut her mouth firmly, almost having been drawn into a trap. The revelation answered some of the reasons why Theo seemed to hate Jago. But the sins of the fathers weren’t always visited on their sons, she thought, or the sins of mothers on their daughters. This was a path she wasn’t prepared to go down with Theo, or Jago, or anyone. ‘Theo, not that it’s any of your business but I haven’t been having an affair with Jago and I’m never going to and, on that, you can trust me. And we can’t be together either.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because …’ Because I’m leaving, I’m running away again. I’ve had enough of this place and things can never ever be the same.

  ‘We just can’t. Believe me.’

  ‘No. He grabbed her arm.

  ‘You’re hurting me.’

  There was desperation in his eyes and anger, resentment burning like a fire. ‘Now that bastard’s come back, he thinks he can take and own anything he wants to, you included.’

  ‘Me? I’m not some kind of trophy, Theo, and I’m never going to be Jago’s and I can’t be yours either.’

  ‘My trophy? You? I think you’re living in fantasy land.’ He laughed in derision. She took an involuntary step backwards and saw the dismay in his face. ‘Shit, Miranda, I didn’t mean to say that.’

  ‘Yes, you did. You’ve always meant it. You wanted me to make Jago jealous. To spite him.’

  ‘It’s true. I did want to make him suffer and I do like you, Miranda, I really like you but … I just hate this fucking family even more.’ Even though she’d suspected Theo had been using her, Miranda was still hurt and angry to hear him admit it. Her ego was bruised but his nastiness cut deeper than that. It was calculating and it diminished him. He was a smaller man than she’d thought, no matter what his reasons.

  ‘You hate the St Merryns because Jago’s father had an affair with your mother?’

  ‘Because the St Merryns almost ruined my family. My dad left my mum after she had the affair and she had to bring us up on her own. That bastard, Lord Patrick, just cut her out of his life when he’d finished with her. When
she tried to confront him and go to his wife, he threatened to turn us out of the cottage where we lived. My mum was a tenant and desperate to stay living in her own home so she decided she had no choice but to keep her mouth shut. Now, as soon as Jago comes back here, he thinks he can just have anyone too.’

  ‘Including me?’

  ‘Yes. Including you. I want that tosser to learn he can’t just take what he wants and then chuck it away when he’s bored, leaving a trail of bloody destruction.’

  How did he know Jago would get bored? She couldn’t say that to Theo, she couldn’t say it to herself because what he had predicted had already come true. Jago had already hurt her, but not in the way Theo thought. ‘I’m really sorry about your mother and I know Lord Patrick was a bastard, but have you thought how Lady St Merryn felt about her husband’s affairs? Or how Jago felt? You really don’t know about him. What he’s been through.’

  ‘You mean his wife dying. Yeah, I heard about that from Karen. Tough shit.’

  ‘You don’t mean that. This isn’t you, Theo.’

  ‘Maybe I don’t mean it and maybe I do.’

  There was no helping him in this mood. The bitterness and resentment was gnawing away at him until there wasn’t much of the real Theo left. ‘Theo, I can’t carry on seeing you, but you can be sure of one thing – I never have and I never will have an affair with a St Merryn.’ She dug her nails in her hand.

  ‘Miranda, I’m sorry …’ he began, as the true realisation of everything he’d revealed started to dawn on him.

  ‘Not now. You’ve got visitors.’ She turned and waved as Louise Dixon wheeled Braden towards them. The little boy bounced in his reins as he recognised Theo. Miranda watched as Theo’s expression changed. She realised how much it had cost him to show his true feelings and how deep his hatred of Jago ran. In his job, he must be used to hiding his emotions and pretending everything would be all right when it often wouldn’t.

  Theo headed for Braden. Louise freed him from his pushchair and Theo swung him into his arms and Miranda heard him say, ‘How are you, sunshine? No swimming today I hope?’

  She rubbed her hand across her eyes as visitors swarmed past, one or two glancing at her in puzzlement. The day was by no means finished, and she had to go back and join in with it, just as Theo had done. He’d stripped off every veneer to tell her how he really felt and the saddest thing was she’d hadn’t much liked what was underneath. Some other woman would get to the heart of Theo again one day and hopefully, probably, find a different man, but it wouldn’t be her.