She swung onto Jago’s drive in a spray of gravel, the tyres skidding slightly as she braked too hard. Swallowing the lump lodged in her throat, and relieved to see that the unidentified Mini had gone, she scrubbed the tears from her face with the heels of her hands and climbed out of the car.
Meg, Jago’s loyal sheepdog, walked towards her wagging her tail, then, as if sensing the tension oozing from the incensed woman in front of her padded back to her owner, who was pumping up the tyres of the Defender with a mobile air pump.
Rita strode towards him. ‘Jago!’
He turned slowly, surprise flickering across his face before settling into that calm, infuriatingly composed expression she both loved and loathed.
‘Rita…’ His voice was steady, gentle, but there was an edge of apprehension about it.
‘Who was that woman?’ She tried to keep her voice from breaking.
Jago ran a hand through his hair, looking past her for a moment, then back, meeting her gaze. ‘She’s just… a friend.’
‘A friend?’ Tears annoyingly started to slip out. ‘You looked like you were… like… I don’t even know! Laughing, leaning in, smiling at her like you well… like you used to look at me… before all this space business.’
He sighed and crouched slightly so Meg could nuzzle him. ‘It’s not what it looked like and what are you doing spying on me anyway?’
‘I wasn’t!’ Rita’s anger wavered under the mix of honesty and frustration in his eyes. ‘Look, I’ve had enough of this weird break, or whatever this is. You don’t just vanish, Jago. You don’t just leave me hanging like I’m some… some… I don’t know!’
He stood up tall, reached for Rita’s hand, and squeezed it. ‘Look, I screwed up, I know. Please… let’s just talk. Come into the warm.’
Rita’s heart thudded. She wanted to yell, storm off, cry. Instead, she let him guide her inside.
Jago popped a log onto the wood burner, the heart of his renovated kitchen that opened into one of his cosy lounges, then handed her a coffee from his shiny new café-worthy machine. Meg flopped down onto her sheepskin rug in front of the fire.
Jago sighed as he sat down opposite her at the table. ‘OK. OK. I need to be honest with you. Because I nevereverwant there to be any lies between us.’
Rita’s brow furrowed, a burning feeling going through her gut.
‘It was my ex-wife,’ Jago blurted. ‘She wanted to make peace with me.’
Rita blinked. ‘So, youdidjust lie.’
‘Yes, because you are overreacting. It’s not what you think.’
‘It was five years ago, Jago, wasn’t it?’ Rita glared. ‘She left you for your best friend and the child he knocked her up with! What the hell! You hated her!’
‘I know, I know.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘But sometimes we need to make peace with our past, don’t we? It doesn’t mean anything… it’s just… closure, I guess.’
‘Clearly her words not yours! The selfish cow,’ Rita blurted. ‘And bullshit. There is never closure; it’s just a polite lie we tell ourselves to try and make sense of the nonsensical.’
Jago raised his eyebrows. ‘Rita, please will you calm down.’
Rita grimaced as the scalding coffee burned her lip, then quickly licked it to try and ease the pain. ‘I thought she lived in Surrey, anyway?’
Jago’s voice remained level. ‘She does. They do. She just pitched up, said she was down here for a funeral, so what was I to say?’
Rita grimaced. ‘Something with “off” on the end, surely?’
Jago couldn’t help himself from smirking. ‘And this is why I love you, Rita Jory.’
Rita’s nostrils flared like those of a charging bull. ‘And a funeral, really? How convenient.’
Jago calmly sipped his coffee. ‘Yes, her uncle, fell down the stairs.’
‘Don’t tell me he landed on his dog and killed him too,’ Rita blurted.
He gave her a smile back. ‘Ah, dear Hilda, the funeral crasher. Of course!’
