But Sennen was no longer listening. ‘Fab, fab. I’d better get on. Are you sure you’re all right, Mum?’
‘Yes, just getting ready to go and see Jago.’
‘Aw, I’m pleased. Enjoy and catch up really soon.’ Sennen hung up.
With her make-up done and hair perfectly in place, Rita slipped into a soft, flowing dress and layered a gentle mohair cardigan over it, the fabric draping easily to conceal the shape she wasn’t yet ready to show the world. Her hands lingered on her stomach as she sat in the car, taking a slow, steadying breath. The Jimny engine ticked quietly in the chilling evening air, but her heart thumped loud enough that she was sure anyone nearby could hear it. She had driven this road a hundred times, but today, the mile-long stretch up to Hawthorn Acre felt longer, the hedges on either side closing in, the gravel crunching under her tyres like it was counting each second.
‘You can do this,’ she murmured to herself, gripping the wheel a little tighter, not knowing what on earth was in front of her. Her reflection in the rear-view mirror looked different to usual, softer, wary, worried.
The gravel of the drive shifted beneath her as she turned into the lane that led to Hawthorn Acre. The farmhouse house loomed at the top. The thought of seeing him, of letting herself be close to him again, made her chest both ache and swell at the same time. She took another deep breath, trying to steady herself, and whispered, almost to the car itself, ‘Here goes…’
Then, with a deep breath, she stepped out of the car.
Jago was standing on the path near the front door, hands tucked loosely in his pockets, looking decidedly anxious.
‘You actually came.’ His face softened at the smile Rita gave him.
‘I had to. I… I needed to see you.’ She felt her chest tighten, and the last bit of hesitation fell away. ‘Hi.’ Her voice trembled.
‘Hi, gorgeous.’ He closed the distance between them in a few long strides and pulled her gently into his arms. The comfort, the familiarity, the quiet strength of him, wrapped around her like a shield. She rested her head against his chest, inhaling his scent, letting herself feel safe.
They moved into the kitchen together, and Rita instinctively sank into a chair at the table in front of the wood burner. Even in late April, the evening air had a faint chill, and the warmth from the fire made the room feel safe, intimate.
‘Wine?’ Jago offered, his voice gentle.
‘No thanks,’ she replied, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Never went well with heated discussions. Water is great.’
‘Don’t predict a riot,’ he teased, a wink lighting up his face, followed by that lopsided dimpled smile she’d missed more than she cared to admit. He poured a glass of filtered water and grabbed a beer for himself.
All the distance, the uncertainty, the worry, it seemed to melt away in that moment.
‘I want to tell you everything, Rita.’ His voice was low and earnest.
‘I take it she’s not here.’
He tutted. ‘Of course not. She’s gone. At her dad’s tonight, I think.’ Jago sighed deeply. ‘But… Rita, you need to stay calm whilst I talk, please.’
‘OK, OK.’ She took a sip of her drink.
‘It’s been so bittersweet, this news, about Amélie. You know I wanted kids, a family, so this is a shock. And it’s not going tobe easy but…’ Jago looked to the sky, then blurted, ‘I’m lending Elodie some money.’
‘How much?’ Rita snapped.
‘Does it matter?’ Jago’s eye twitched. ‘I just wanted to be honest with you.’
‘How much?’ Rita’s voice shook.
‘OK. OK. Twenty grand.’
Rita was about to fire off again when Jago put his hand up to stop her. ‘Being honest, she asked if I couldlendher twenty thousand pounds. Ten specifically for Amélie and ten so she can rent herself a place and get herself sorted. I’m just sorting that for her. Actually, hands up, I am going togiveit to her.’ Jago paused, as if waiting for the onslaught, but Rita stayed silent as she took it all in. ‘And I will, of course, also pay ongoing maintenance for my daughter. I have to do right by her, Rita. I also will be seeing Amélie at least one a month and in the school holidays if I can.’ Rita suddenly felt sick at the thought of the constant contact he would be having, not with the child, but with Elodie.
She shot from the hip. ‘So, I guess you have proper proof that Amélieisyours?’
Jago took a breath. ‘Rita, nobody would lie about a thing like that!’
Rita raised her voice. ‘Jago, wake up and smell the coffee; she’s lied to you about it for five years!’
And then a key turned in the front door.
