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Jago smiled. ‘I’ll mention it to her. She was at John Lewis before so it might appeal.’
Verity made a face. ‘Not quite in the same league but our little bookshop has the advantage of being local at least. But, back to you. Your dilemma. Not work-related, is it?’
‘No.’ Jago shook his head. ‘I thought I’d rediscovered my mojo. Or I had until this morning. I’ve been working like a demon.’ He glanced at her, groaning inwardly. He really had no idea how to talk to a vicar. ‘Sorry.’
‘What for? If I believe in God, it makes sense for me to believe in demons. And, trust me, I’ve seen enough people with demons inside them. But that’s not your issue, is it? You say Lullbury Bay has been a good decision for you?’
‘It has. It is. The problem I’ve got is every time I walk Ivy around the harbour, I have to pass the lifeboat station.’
‘And it’s a problem because?’
‘I want to volunteer. Every fibre of my being wants to go in and offer my services as crew.’
Verity put her mug on the table behind her. Then she leaned forward and gave him her full attention. ‘And that’s a worthy ambition. They always need crew. What’s the problem?’
‘I told my mother I wouldn’t crew for the RNLI ever again. I promised her.’
‘You’ve crewed before?’
Jago nodded. ‘In London. Out of Tower Lifeboat Station. It was the station my father worked at. He was the Lifeboat Operations Manager.’
‘I see.’
Jago wasn’t sure she did. ‘The Tower Station is organised differently to the Lullbury Bay one where it’s manned by volunteers,’ he explained. ‘It’s so busy there are full-time, paid crew on duty 24/7, 365 days a year. They’re supplemented by a voluntary crew. I volunteered when I could, and Dad was in charge of the whole shebang.’
‘My goodness, what a responsible job to hold.’
‘It was.’ A smile played about Jago’s lips as he remembered how much his father had loved his job, how he had devoted his life to service in the RNLI. ‘But Dad lived for the RNLI.’ As he said it, he was aware of the bitter irony.
‘And your mother doesn’t want you to volunteer again?’
‘She doesn’t want to lose me like she lost Dad.’
‘Ah, of course, I remember you saying. Completely understandable. Would it help if you told me how it happened?’
Jago put his mug down on the quarry-tiled floor. He stared hard at the Aga nameplate on the front of the stove. It was written in curly writing and was slightly tarnished. One or two of his London friends had an Aga on their wish lists but it was something he’d never understood. Now, stretching his hands out to its warmth and comfort he grudgingly admitted to seeing the appeal. He forced his focus away from the cosy kitchen to memories of the previous Christmas. ‘It was Christmas Eve,’ he began haltingly. ‘We were all at home. Me, Mum and Merryn. I’d moved back in as the flat I’d shared with Rose was sold and I was deciding what to do next. Merryn had made Mum buy a second tree.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘She’d wanted a small one for her bedroom, one with roots so we could plant it in the garden afterwards. We were decorating it and bickering because we couldn’t untangle the old set of lights we’d found in the attic. Dad was still at the station. He wasn’t on call though, as head of the station he wouldn’t be asked to crew. He was just about to clock off and go home, to start Christmas, when one of the other crew members got a call from his wife saying she’d just gone into labour. It was their first, so Dad stayed on. An emergency call had just come through and there wasn’t much time to make a decision. He persuaded the new station manager to let him do one last shout but as a volunteer.’ Jago looked up at Verity. ‘It was Dad’s last day at work, you see. He was retiring that day.’
‘Oh, Jago! That’s so sad but what a good gesture.’
‘He was a good man.’ Jago shifted, the grief piercing him. ‘A great dad too. He’d narrowly missed me being born but he was at Merryn’s and always said no father should miss the birth of his child. So he told Dougie to get himself up to St Thomas’s. Apparently, he even shoved a handful of notes at him for a taxi. Said they’d wet the baby’s head when it was all over.’ He stared hard at the Aga sign, blinking rapidly. ‘Only they never did because by the time Dougie’s little girl had been born, Dad was lying dead in the same hospital. One life in, another out. I suppose there’s a certain symmetry.’ He felt Verity take his hand and soaked up the comfort it offered.
‘What happened?’
‘They got called out on this shout. Bloke spotted in the water. Possible suicide. Someone had seen him jump off a bridge. Nothing that unusual, especially at that time of year. Trouble was the current had dragged him to where it was impossible to get the lifeboat or the police boat to him. They got as near as they could and spotted him clinging to a wooden pier near The Prospect of Whitby.’ At Verity’s blank expression, he added, ‘It’s a pub right on the river. The guy was right under the back of the pier and refusing to budge but they couldn’t get either boat near enough to pull him into it. Dad made the decision to go into the water.’
Verity hissed in a sharp breath.
‘I know, right?’ Jago gave a little scoffing laugh. ‘We used to tease him about getting on and being too old to hack a proper shout, that he was only up to a desk job at his age.’ He looked down and bit his lip hard. ‘Maybe if we hadn’t teased, he wouldn’t have decided to go in.’
Verity tightened her grip on his hand. ‘I’m sure he did what he thought was the right thing to do and your teasing had nothing to do with it.’
Jago hardly heard her. Joking with his father about his age was one of the many things he wished he could go back and change. ‘It’s rare to get in the water, you see. It’s an absolute last resort. There are all sorts in that river. You have to battle against the cold, the tide, whatever is under your feet trying to trap you. It’s dangerous. And my dad knew all this.’
‘Then he was an exceptionally brave man.’
‘Yes. He was brave.’ Jago looked down clenching his jaw to hold back the tears. ‘It was the last brave thing he did in a long career serving the RNLI. He had on a line, had a float. Got to the guy and grabbed hold, calmed him down. He even persuaded him to get into the lifeboat. But as they were getting Dad in, the bloke they’d rescued kicked off again. In all the confusion, Dad slipped back. They think he must have hit his head on something. Like I said, the river is treacherous. You don’t know what’s in there. Maybe being in the cold water for so long made him lose concentration or something. He went under…’ Jago’s voice faltered. ‘He went under and they lost him for a few minutes in the dark. They got him back on the boat and did what they could, but he died in hospital. Fatal blow to the head, irreparable brain injury.’ He dashed a hand across his eyes.
A silence fell over the kitchen.
