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28
Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier
‘Emmie?’ Faith calls from the top floor of Stormy Cottage. ‘Can you come up a minute?’
We’re having a look at the contended cottage. In the new year, we’ll start work on it. Jago has finally agreed to let me buy him out. I know that because I got a letter from a lawyer. It was never a home to him anyway, he wrote me in a note. Along with many other things. Such as he loves me. That he wants me to give him a chance. That I make him whole again.
I want to believe all this. Truly I do. But every time I think about him, all I can think of is how he’d not told me about Miranda. How could he, what with all that was blossoming between us? No one makes love like that, unless there’s truly something there.
I drop my broom and climb the stairs to find Faith and Bill on their knees, hunched by the hearth. There’s a pool of soot between them and, on top of that, what looks like a leather pouch.
‘This fell out. It was your Nano’s pouch – I recognise it,’ Bill says. ‘Used to carry it round his waist all the time.’
‘And it was hidden in the chimney breast?’
‘I guess he didn’t want anyone to find it but you, Emmie,’ Faith says.
I look back and forth between them as the two of them get to their feet.
‘We’ll leave you to it. We’re downstairs if you need us,’ Bill says.
I nod, not taking my eyes off the pouch. How can they be so sure it’s for me? It looks old enough to have been forgotten there forever. And if it really was left there for me, why not give it to the solicitors? Why hide it from my grandmother?
With trembling hands, I pluck at the buckle across the front. I half expect it to fall apart in my hands, but it’s of a good quality – the kind they don’t make anymore. Inside is a first edition of no less thanJane Eyreand a letter, which I slowly open and unfold. It’s written in a neat scrawl:
Dearest Emily,
I don’t know where to start. I don’t know if you will even find this letter. If you have, it means you have found your way to Starry Cove, despite all odds.
You, of course, don’t know me. My name is James Heatherton-Smythe, but everyone calls me Nano. And I am your grandfather. Unfortunately, your mother took you away from Cornwall when you were a baby. This is partly for what I did, but I am glad I did it and would do it all over again.
I want you to know that I have always wanted to be a part of your life, but circumstances have always prohibited it. You might believe this is just an excuse, but once you learn the truth of how things were back then, you will begin to understand.
You must know that many years ago our daughter, your aunt Maura, adopted a little boy. His name was Jago Moon. But he was a wild little thing and your aunt was afraid of having him around their own little girl, Miranda.
Jago? Jago? My heart skips beats, running around my ribcage as if looking for a way out of my chest. With shaky hands, I grip the letter further:
As it turned out, Miranda became besotted with him at a very young age, so her mother decided to return him to the orphanage. Which broke my heart. He was such a clever little boy! I missed him so much. He was the grandson I never had.
We had so much in common. We had the same interests. I so missed sitting with him in the fishing boat and talking for days and nights on end, waiting for fish to swim into our nets. We had literally become like father and son. I so desperately wanted him back, while your grandmother was relieved to get rid of the poor boy, whose only fault was to fall in love with Miranda.
And then one day, he showed up on my boat with those sad, beseeching eyes. He didn’t want to leave Starry Cove, which he considered his home.
So, much to everyone’s dismay, I took him on to work with me on my boat and continued to teach him everything I knew about the sea, thus theoretically and spiritually adopting him all over again. I also sent him to good schools.
When he turned eighteen, I sent him to Oxford University, where he obtained a law degree. I had very high hopes for Jago. But after all that, he ended up living with Miranda in Truro. And she made his life a misery. He was her slave in every way.
I am almost certain that my wife will have already contested my will, as she loathes Jago Moon. She blames him for Miranda’s death. But I was there, too. We tried to save her but couldn’t. What is worse is that she was carrying his child.
When they died, Jago was completely lost. The hopes of having his own family to love the way he never had been loved… well, they were all gone in an instant. He began to spiral downwards and drink, not caring about himself or anyone else anymore. He was dead inside. The world no longer held any interest for him. He had lost that spark that had defined him. That curiosity and zest for life. The ability to laugh at the simplest, silliest things.
I have a very fragile heart. My doctor told me that I don’t have much time left. So that is why I am writing to you. I am too weak to travel to see you. But I have instructed my solicitors to find you.
And now you, his only rival for the inheritance, need to make sure that Jago gets what is rightfully his, although they were never married and nor had they lived under the same roof long enough to be common law. But Jago would have a child of his own now, if it hadn’t been for Miranda’s reckless attempts to dominate him. I am aware that there is no sum that can repay him for losing their baby, but somehow I have to make amends to him.
I have provided for you financially, Emily, so you never need to worry about that. You are my beloved granddaughter whom I never met because your mother was vindictive. Just like Miranda. Please let all that end here. Please let it end with love.
Please seek out Jago, if you haven’t already met him. Who knows? You might even see in him the great man that I see.
