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He handed over the neatly presented gift. ‘How are you, Honor?’ he asked in measured tones.
‘Oh, you know, catching up with myself. Getting ready for Christmas. Busy,’ she added, lamely. She felt herself blushing even harder.
‘Will I see you at the RNLI carols event? I’ve heard it’s good.’
‘It’s an absolute blast,’ Ben interrupted. ‘There’s a good sing-along led by the choir, mulled wine, the best-decorated beach hut competition. Oh,’ he turned to Honor and grinned. ‘We mustn’t forget the dog fancy dress. That promises to be a laugh. Can I pay contactless? Brill.’
While he paid, Honor concentrated on staring at the shiny glass robins on Jago’s table. She’d love one but couldn’t marshal her feelings enough for the transaction. Clutching the scented candle to her, she came over all hot. Maybe it was because she had on her jacket and hat. Pulling it off she shook out her hair and lifted it off her neck to cool down. Over the sound system George Michael was singing about giving his heart away. She had a horrible feeling she had too. What a mess.
‘We’ll see you at the RNLI carols then?’ Ben said chirpily.
‘Might well do,’ Jago answered.
Honor didn’t dare glance at his face to see how he’d taken Ben’s casual bracketing of them. She sucked in a breath. What did it matter what Jago Pengethley thought? He was a married man, she was free and single. What did it matter if he misunderstood the situation between her and Ben?
‘Bye, Jago,’ Ben said. ‘Thanks for the moon. I know Mum will be knocked out by it. I’ve taken one of your business cards too so if she wants another piece, she knows where to come.’
‘Thank you for buying.’
‘See you, Jago.’ Honor still couldn’t meet his eyes. This was awful.
‘Bye, Honor.’
Was it her imagination or had she heard wistfulness in his voice?
Jago watched them go. Ben was bending down and talking animatedly to Honor. The jealousy had caught him off-guard. It speared in his gut, a visceral pain, turning his stomach over in a gut-wrenching spasm. He’d got it bad.
But how? After all, he and Honor hardly knew one another. They’d met only a few times, and most of those had been in the company of his family. The hour or so he’d spent with her at German Market sparkled in his memory like the moon he’d just sold to Ben. It seemed ridiculous to have developed feelings so quickly but he had. He picked over the conversation they’d had about her ex, the one who lived in Italy. Had she mentioned being involved with anyone else? Had she given him the impression she was single? He’d assumed so, otherwise he wouldn’t have kissed her. Maybe he’d got it all wrong and she was with this Ben guy? Maybe that was why she’d fled. But why hadn’t she explained?
He wondered what would have happened had Jaden not interrupted them. The boy had gripped him around the waist so hard he’d had trouble detaching himself. Jaden’s mother had staggered up to them too, clearly full ofglühwein,and yanked her son to her, glaring accusingly. She dived into a foul-mouthed rant and it was only when he explained he’d worked with Jaden at the lantern workshop and wasn’t a random man taking advantage of her son that she’d mellowed. Then, drunkenly and embarrassingly, she began to flirt. By the time it was sorted and he’d escaped, Honor had disappeared into the night.
Maybe he’d gone in too soon, too strong with Honor? And ruined it all. But he’d been sure they were building a friendship, one that had the possibility of a relationship dangling invitingly on the horizon. He liked her. He liked her love of her community, and the care and kindness she showed Merryn. He even liked her love of all things Christmas, although this year he couldn’t bring himself to share it. He really liked her. God, he might even be getting in deeper. And now it looked as if she was with someone. All the warmth Honor had previously shown towards him had disappeared. While he’d wrapped Ben’s moon, she’d hardly uttered two words to him. As he thrust a frustrated hand through his hair, he caught the Rudolph nose on his jumper and the wretched thing glowed red. Perhaps she’d gone off him because he was wearing a ridiculous sweater?
He busied himself rearranging the stock on his table. There were quite a few gaps and a lot more white cloth showing where he’d sold pieces. As he did so, he surreptitiously watched as Ben slung a casual arm around Honor’s shoulders. They were standing next to the wicker baskets containing the evergreens and laughing. Ben picked up a branch of mistletoe, appearing to make a joke.
‘Don’t kiss her,’ Jago found himself muttering. ‘Don’t you dare kiss her!’ To his relief, Honor took the mistletoe and put it back in the basket.
Of course it made sense Honor would be attracted to a teacher. They’d have so much in common, would share an understanding of the job, share the stresses and the same holidays. One of his mates back in London had gone out with a teacher. Their never-ending arguments about why she couldn’t drop everything and go for a four-day weekend to Madrid in the middle of term had consumed a memorable evening in the pub. Equally, his friend hated the heat of the Med in August and refused to go. He could see why teachers often went out – and married other teachers.
Marriage. He groaned inwardly. He’d tried it and it hadn’t worked out. Looking back, he knew why. He and Rose had had an instant and hot physical attraction – the sex had been mind-blowing – but once that had waned, they had little in common. He inhabited the world of artists and craftspeople; she was in the hard world of retail management. He half suspected they’d rushed into living together as a way of sharing the rent in order to live in a better part of the city. Then they’d slid, unthinking, into marriage and a mortgage. They liked each other; they still did. He was lucky the divorce had been amicable, and they were friends. He knew, though, his black moods and destructive behaviour after his father died had tested the friendship they’d strived for post-divorce. Rose hadn’t been able to get him through those awful days and, as an ex-wife, had no obligation to. But they’d been friends before becoming a couple and, just before the family moved from London, had become so again. Was he ready for another relationship? He wasn’t sure but he’d like to find out. He’d like to find out if there was the promise of a future with Honor.
But it looked as if he’d blown it. Idiot! He’d rushed it with Honor, just as he’d rushed it with Rose. Would he ever learn? His father had always said he acted first and thought second. And now he was having to live in a small town and risk bumping into Honor and whoever she was with. It seemed a peculiarly cruel form of torture. So much for his wish on the first mince pie of the season!
CHAPTER20
‘WE THREE KINGS OF ORIENT ARE’ – TRAD.
Monday 20th December
Jago couldn’t concentrate. Staring down at his work desk in his attic and at the cupcake design he just couldn’t seem to get quite right, he threw his pencil down. On his sketchbook, alongside the cake patterns, he’d doodled hearts and lips. No analysis needed there, he thought, grimly. Going to the Velux window, he opened it and stood on the tiny balcony. The weather was in league with his mood. A heavy sky hung sullenly down but the cold air began to revive him. Gulls wheeled and called mournfully, some catching an air current and lifting off into the distance. Part of him wished he could do the same. He studied their shape and the way their aerodynamic bodies effortlessly conquered the air. When he and Merryn had grabbed a bag of chips the other afternoon and had sat on the harbour wall to eat them, they’d been surrounded by gulls, strutting about, stiff-legged, greedily alert for any food scraps. The contrast between how they were on land and in the sky fascinated him. He fetched his sketchbook and made some rapid notes for future reference.
A drizzly rain began to fall, more low sea mist than anything but, in the far distance over the sea, a lighter sky was being chased inland. With any luck it would pass. Closing up the window, he sat back at his desk but still couldn’t settle. With Avril at her Knit and Natter Group again and Merryn on a playdate with Holly, a quiet, empty house should mean he could concentrate and get down to some work, but he wasn’t feeling it. His enthusiasm for his craft, which had returned spectacularly in preparation for the Craft Fayre, had deserted him again. Ivy whined at his side so, flicking shut the cover on his sketchbook, he made his decision.
Instead of walking along the seafront, he climbed the steep hill leading from the harbour and cut across the public gardens in the direction of the church in the old town. Its squat Norman tower sat serene and high above the jumble of houses. It must have seen its fair share of troubled souls wander past. Jago wondered if he was one of them.
As he walked up the wide pathway to the church door, Ivy stopped in her tracks and began to growl low in her throat. At the top stood three bollards, he supposed to prevent any vehicles getting around the side of the building. He vaguely remembered them from when he visited before. However, the bollards had then stood naked and proud. Now they were covered in knitted costumes. Giving Ivy a reassuring stroke and distracting her with a biscuit, he ventured nearer. The Ninja Knitters had been at it again, the bollards had been yarn-bombed. Humour ate through his low mood, and he began to chuckle. The three bollards had been dressed as the three kings in all their glory, complete with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. All knitted, of course. They were distinctively individual, with one having a long grey beard and one with a shock of black curly hair. All wore sumptuous, knitted cloaks in jewel colours.
‘They’re great, aren’t they?’ The vicar came out of the church. ‘I’m becoming very fond of them.’
