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Jago gulped the rest of his coffee and accepted a refill. ‘I’m fine,’ he said carefully.
‘Mmm.’
‘Not buying it?’
Verity smiled kindly. ‘Not really. You said you’d mostly got your work back on track which is wonderful. You’re obviously walking Ivy so you’re getting some physical exercise and fresh air which, again, is a marvellous and restorative thing.’
‘But?’
‘But I sense an underlying restlessness.’
‘Not surprising considering the year we’ve all had.’
‘True. Forgive me, I don’t mean to pry.’
Jago had the feeling she was going to anyway.
‘When we bumped into each other in front of good old Winnie that time, I knew you were unhappy, obviously bereaved, lost in a way. Some of that’s gone but there’s something else now.’
Jago blew out a heavy breath.
‘You don’t have to talk to me.’ She spread her hands. ‘I mean, you don’t have to talk to anyone, but I’ve found it helps.’
‘I’m not one of your parishioners, Verity.’
‘Oh, but you are.’
‘I don’t go to church.’
‘You’re still one of my parishioners.’
He sat back and sighed. ‘You don’t give up, do you?’
‘Wouldn’t be doing my job if I did,’ she said, not quite apologetically. ‘Would you prefer it if I found you a man to talk to?’
Jago shifted irritably. ‘No. If I were to talk to anyone it would be to you.’
‘I’m flattered.’
‘Don’t be,’ he said, with a reluctant laugh. ‘There’s not much of an alternative.’
‘You come in here,’ she tutted melodramatically. ‘Drink my coffee, eat my biscuits,’ she held out the plate, ‘have another by the way, they’re very good. You hog my Aga and then say that.’
‘I like talking to you,’ he said helplessly. ‘It’s the–’
‘What?’
‘This is going to sound so immature, but it’s the God thing.’
‘This?’ Verity pointed at her clerical collar. She reached round to the back of her neck and unclipped it. Tossing it onto the table, she added, ‘There. Gone. Better?’
‘Slightly.’ He had the grace to be embarrassed.
‘So, what is it?’
He shrugged and stared moodily into his mug. ‘I think we’ve made the right decision to come here. Merryn seems happy, or happier than she was. Mum’s coping and beginning to find a life for herself. She’s even talking about finding a job.’
‘Oh!’ Verity sat up suddenly. ‘They’re looking for someone at Bee’s Books. Bee is lovely to work for. Have to say a job in a bookshop with a café in it is my idea of heaven. You have to try their waffles.’ She giggled. ‘Well, apart from my actual idea of heaven, if you get my drift.’
