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‘So, Jago,’ the Vicar said thoughtfully. ‘An interesting name and a derivative of James I believe.’
Jago nodded. ‘My grandmother was Spanish,’ he said. ‘And she wanted me to be christened Iago, as in Santiago de Compostela, but my parents felt that Shakespeare had knocked that name permanently on the head so they compromised with the English version.’
Iago, thought Tavy, who’d studied Othello for her ‘A’ level English exam. One of literature’s most appalling villains. The apparently loyal second in command, turned liar, betrayer and murderer by association. The personification of darkness, if ever there was one.
It felt almost like a warning, and made her even less inclined to trust him.
After the meal, she served coffee in the sitting room. But when she went in with the tray, she found Jago alone, looking at one of the photographs on the mantelpiece.
He said abruptly, not looking round, ‘Your mother was very beautiful.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘In every way.’
‘Your father must be very lonely without her.’
‘He’s not alone,’ she said, defensively. ‘He has his work and he has me. Also he plays chess with a retired schoolmaster in the village. And...’ She hesitated.
‘Yes?’
‘And he has God.’ She said it reluctantly, expecting some jeering response.
‘I’m sure he does,’ he said. ‘But none of that is what I meant.’
She decided not to pursue that, asking instead, ‘Where is he, anyway?’ as she set the tray down on the coffee table between the two shabby sofas that flanked the fireplace.
‘He went to his study to find a book he’s going to lend me on the history of the Manor.’
‘The past is safe enough,’ she said. ‘It’s what you may do to its future that worries most people.’
‘I met two of my new neighbours on my way here,’ he said. ‘A man on horseback and a woman with a dog. Both of them smiled and said hello, and the dog didn’t bite me, so I wasn’t aware of any tsunami of anxiety heading towards me.’
‘It may seem amusing to you,’ she said. ‘But we’ll have to live with the inevitable upheaval of your celebrity presence—’ she edged the words with distaste ‘—and deal with the aftermath when you get bored and move on.’
‘You haven’t been listening, sweetheart.’ His tone was crisp. ‘The Manor is going to be my home. The only one. And I intend to make it work. Now shall we call a truce before your father comes back? And I take my coffee black without sugar,’ he added. ‘For future reference.’
‘Quite unnecessary,’ said Tavy. ‘As this will be the first and last time I have to serve it to you.’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘One can always dream.’
Lloyd Denison came striding in, holding a slim book with faded green covers. ‘Things are never where you expect them to be,’ he said, shaking his head.
That, Tavy thought affectionately, was because he never put things where they were supposed to go. And she hadn’t inherited her mother’s knack of guiding him straight to the missing item.
‘Thank you.’ Jago took the book from him, handling it gently. ‘I promise I’ll look after it.’
Their coffee drunk, he stood up. ‘Now I’ll leave you to enjoy your afternoon in peace. But I must thank you again for a delicious lunch. And as home-cooking is currently out of the question for me, I was wondering if you could recommend a good local restaurant.’
‘I dine out very rarely, but I’m sure Tavy could suggest somewhere.’ Her father turned to her. ‘What do you think? There’s that French place in Market Tranton.’
Which is our place—Patrick’s and mine—thought Tavy, so I’m not sending him there.
She said coolly, ‘The pub in the village does food.’
‘Yes, but it’s very basic,’ Mr Denison objected. ‘You must know lots of better places.’
She turned reluctantly to Jago. ‘In that case, you could try Barkland Grange. It’s a hotel and quite a trek from here, but I believe its dining room won an award recently.’
‘It sounds ideal.’ That smile again. As if he was reaching out to touch her. ‘And as I’ve ruined your supper plans, maybe I can persuade you to join me there for dinner tonight.’ He looked at her father. ‘And you, sir, of course.’
‘That’s very kind,’ said the Vicar. ‘But I have some finishing touches to put to my sermon, plus a double helping of chicken to enjoy. However I’m sure Tavy would be delighted to accompany you.’ He looked at her blandly. ‘Wouldn’t you, darling?’
