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‘Morning, partner!’ Jago salutes as I push through the door of the shop the next morning.
I nod and slam my bag down.
‘Ouch! Don’t tell me. The old battleaxe is giving you a hard time. Bossing you around with the excuse you’re family but never actually letting you in.’
I swallow. If anyone can understand my anger towards her, it’s Jago.
‘My grandmother has made it very clear that she doesn’t want me here. To her, I’m just one huge problem that won’t go away.’
‘That’s what she’s like.’
‘She hasn’t been affectionate towards me once since I’ve been here. I was doing her laundry, for Christ’s sake, and she couldn’t even find the decency to say thank you. As if the entire world owes her a living.’
‘Textbook Lady Mary, alright.’
‘She’s told me that I’m a nuisance and that my birth was a huge burden on everyone. As if I actually asked to be born into thisshittylife…’
‘That’s not like you to say things like that, Emmie.’
‘What do you know about me and what I’m like?’
He shrugs. ‘I just know that you’re kind and caring and optimistic.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s not like I’ve had any reason to be lately. I wish I’d never inherited anything and never heard of Lady Mary Heatherton of Heatherton Hall.’
‘Hang in there, Emmie.’
‘How can I?’ I bite off. ‘Even you are giving me a hard time and I don’t know why.’
He shrugs. ‘I’m just not used to being around someone like you, is all.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He looks at me as if trying to decide for himself.
‘It’s just that… you’retegthrough and through…’
‘Teg? What does that mean? Daft?’
He laughs. ‘No, it’s a word we use to describe… several things: a sunset, a newborn, a flower.’
‘Is there no English equivalent?’
He nods. ‘There is. But the word beautiful just doesn’t seem to do you justice. It’s lost its depth.’
I can feel myself blushing. ‘You just called me beautiful.’
‘More than that. You’reteg. Inside and out…’
‘Thank you,’ I whisper, at a loss for words.
An argument I can expect from Jago. A smirk, or why not a challenge. But a kind word? That throws me completely.
‘Listen,’ he says. ‘About the court thing… I’m willing to hash it out privately, if you like. Because I really, really hate lawyers.’
‘Me, too,’ I confess.
In any case, congratulations to myself are in order. Despite my grandmother’s several attempts to convince me otherwise, I’m slowly managing to crack the nut that is Jago Moon. I’m The Nutcracker extraordinaire.
