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‘I’m so very sorry, Jago.’ Verity continued to clutch his hand. She waited for him to recover enough to continue speaking.
Jago shook off her hold and cleared his throat, straightening his shoulders. He’d thought he’d passed the tears stage in his grief, but it obviously wasn’t the case. He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. ‘I was told later the guy they rescued went on to make a full recovery, so that’s something.’
‘Yes, thatissomething. Your father did something wonderful that day. He gave his life so someone else might live.’
‘Yeah, if you look at it that way.’ Jago wasn’t convinced. Still angry at the man the crew had rescued and who had robbed him of his father, he’d rather it had all never happened. Brightening a little, he added, ‘Dougie named his baby girl Kendra. It was the closest to Kenan he could get that his wife agreed on.’
‘That’s very touching. A little light, some joy in a terrible time.’ Verity looked at him intently. ‘And it must have been a terrible time.’
‘It was. We were all waiting at home for Dad to return. Mer had painted a Happy Retirement banner. Then we got the phone call. We spent the rest of the night in the hospital. They let Mum and me in to say goodbye. We had to gown up, you know, wear all the protective gear? We looked like aliens.’ He shook his head. ‘It was an alien, out of this world experience. Weird. Rose sat with Merryn, which was good of her. I’ve never seen a little girl so bewildered. And then we got back to the house. In the panic mum had left all the lights on. The Christmas tree was all lit up in the corner, with the presents underneath, waiting to be opened. Mum put Merryn to bed and we all sat up watching the night turn to Christmas Day, drinking tea. We could hear next door’s kids screeching in excitement as they started their day. And all we had was this frozen, grey feeling. Unreal. Numb. As if it was all happening to someone else and Dad would walk in, laugh at us and ask why we were all sitting around looking as if someone had died.’ He shook his head again, as if to shake off the trauma he knew would stay with him for the rest of his life. He attempted a laugh. ‘And he’d always ask if there was any tea in the pot. I miss him so much.’ He bent over, the pain too much, and buried his face in his hands.
‘Of course you do.’ Verity gently rubbed his shoulder.
‘I’m trying to do Christmas.’ He thought he sounded almost petulant, like a little lost boy. Perhaps he was. ‘I’m trying to enjoy all the lights, the trees, the music. I’m trying for Mum and Merryn, especially for Merryn. She deserves a Christmas after last year. But it’s as if I’m numb inside. I’m saying all the right things, putting on a grin at the silly gold hot-pants lights, those daft yarn bombers and most of the time I can, but it’s not reaching down where it should.’
‘Jago, my child, it’s early days. It’s not even been a year yet. And all the little things, the rituals we put in place at this time of the year, it’s going to make it all so much harder. I think if you’re getting up, showering, eating, working, and looking after your family, then you’re doing about as well as you can. You’re doing far better than most people in the same circumstances. But, as much as you feel you have to put a brave face on, make sure you allow yourself to grieve too. I still don’t think you’ve let yourself do that and you can’t move on until you do.’
He sat back up and nodded.
Verity got up to make fresh coffee. If it was to allow him some time, some space, then he was grateful. He felt wrung out with emotion. It had been good to talk to her. While she clattered about the kitchen, he sat in silence, staring at Ivy who had rolled onto her back, stretched out and perfectly content. The pain he felt when telling Verity about his father had been intense. She had been the first person outside the family to whom he’d told the full story. But now he had, he sensed an easing, as if he’d been stuck in a tunnel where the agony and darkness had gripped him, refusing to let him leave. He’d somehow managed to pass through now and was out the other side and, although bruised and tender, he felt lighter, cleansed. Perhaps there was something in this spirituality of Verity’s? Or maybe it was simply the relief of offloading.
She sat back down. ‘And so you decided to move away. More coffee?’
He accepted another mug. ‘Yup. Everyone thought we were mad. We didn’t know anyone in Lullbury Bay.’
‘Maybe that was the appeal?’
‘I think it was.’ He drank some coffee, feeling it course through his body: hot and strong, and rejuvenating. ‘Mum considered returning to Cornwall. We’re from Fowey originally. But I think she wanted a new start. Somewhere she could reinvent herself. Going back to Cornwall seemed too much like going backwards.’
‘What about you? Didn’t you consider staying in London?’
Jago sucked his lower lip. ‘I did, but my marriage was over, I’d drifted from my friends. Maybe I wanted to reinvent myself too.’ He eased out a kink in his neck. ‘There’s a lot to be said for a fresh start.’
‘There is. But now you’ve found yourself living in a seaside town with a very active lifeboat station and you’re drawn to volunteering. What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know. I promised Mum,’ his brow furrowed, ‘but it’s a good thing to do, to help others, isn’t it? It might even be a way to honour my father’s memory. Ah, Verity, what wouldyoudo?’
She smiled gently and, holding her mug to her face, blew on it to cool her coffee. ‘I can’t solve this for you, Jago. As a vicar I ought to tell you to keep your promise. As a mum I can perfectly understand why your mother asked you never to volunteer again.’
‘But?’ He looked at her hopefully, desperate for the suggestion that it would be all right for him to renege on his promise.
‘But,’ she admitted, ‘I can also see how it’s eating you up, not being able to volunteer. And I can see why you’d want to. I don’t suppose there’s any way you’d consider a shore-based role? In fundraising or serving in the shop?’
Jago’s expression made his answer clear.
‘No, I thought not. Then my only suggestion and perhaps the way forward, however painful and difficult, is to discuss it with your mother.’
He was lost in thought for a second. The last thing he wanted to do was to upset or challenge his mother. He knew her request that he not volunteer came from the best and most heart-felt place. On the other hand, surely he had the right, as an adult, to serve his community as best he could? Or was he being pompous? But he longed to volunteer,burnedto do so. He wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. ‘I’m going to have to, aren’t I?’ Pulling a face, he added, ‘But it’s not going to be easy. I don’t want to hurt her.’
‘You never know, you might find that if she knows how it’s been tearing you apart, she won’t want to hurtyou.But until you sit down together and talk it through, you’ll never know. Do you think that’s a plan?’
‘It’s got to be worth trying, hasn’t it?’
‘I think so.’ Verity frowned. ‘But it’s not the only thing that’s been bothering you, is it? Is there something else on your mind?’
Jago screwed up his face. ‘It’s a woman,’ he said almost apologetically.
CHAPTER22
