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‘The fact that you’re not even remotely interested in him.’
‘That’s not for you to say.’
‘No. It’s for you to tell him. You should explain that you’re madly in love with your fiancé. The one you should be getting back to by now, rather than leading that poor sod on.’
‘And when did you become so worried about a former friend?’
He shrugs. ‘It’s you I’m actually more worried about. Why put yourself in yet another relationship that’s doomed from the start?’
Doomed? Is that what he thinks about my relationship with Stephen?
And… can I blame him? If I have to be honest and put a hand on my heart, can I say that we’re solid?
‘Enough about me, Jago. What I’d like to know is how did you come to be my grandfather’s friend?’ I venture.
He looks at me and then his eyes shoot out to sea as if projecting himself there again. As if he’s still scanning the horizon for his friend who’s no longer there. He exhales heavily, unsteadily. Not a groan, but a way to flush out the emotions overwhelming him.
I’m beginning to notice things about him – his gazes, his reactions. I can tell when he’s impatient by the puffs of air that escape his lips when they’re set in a tight line. But now they’re not tight. They’re drooping at the corners. This is a truth that’s hurting him, that he doesn’t like to talk about. The guilt is etched in his features.
His eyes return to my face and they’re solemn.
‘When I was a kid, he took me with him on his fishing boat.’
‘That sounds like fun,’ I offer.
He pauses and then looks out to sea again.
‘We’d be gone for weeks at a time. I loved it, out at sea. He taught me everything there is to know, from tying knots to weaving fishing nets, and rigging and trigonometry and cartography. He raised me, loved me like a son.’
There is, for a brief moment, a new light in his eyes that resembles the opposite of his habitual resignation and self-deprecation. And then he swallows as his voice deepens again.
‘I was nothing before he found me. I was a bloody outcast. I had no one and nothing. And when he died in my arms, I was nothing all over again…’
The unspoken thought,I am still nothing, hangs in the space between us, along with the misery that he hides under a layer of sarcasm and arrogance.
My heart aches for him. ‘Oh, Jago, you know that’s so not true. You’re smart. You could do so much with your life.’
He snorts and then mumbles, ‘Yeah, I could do so much more damage.’
‘Jago? Can I ask you something?’
‘Uh-oh…’
‘Why does my grandmother blame you for Nano’s death?’ I ask.
He snorts. ‘Well, she’s right. I am to blame. Completely.’
‘How did he die? My grandmother isn’t exactly helpful information-wise.’
He sighs.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I understand if—’
‘No, it’s OK. At least someone wants to hear my version besides the police. We were out at sea. He wasn’t feeling very well, so I suggested we go back, but he didn’t want to. That night, I was asleep below deck. A moan woke me, followed by a splash. I raced to the deck. Nano had had a heart attack and fallen into the water. It was dark and I jumped in blindly. But I wasn’t fast enough. By the time I got hold of him and tried to bring him back, he was already dead.’
I can picture Jago trying to resuscitate him, once, twice, even three times. He’s not one to let things go so easily, I’ve learned. But it was too late. There was nothing more he could do. Poor Grandfather James. Poor Nano…
