Patrick answered the door almost immediately. He was bare-legged, wearing a towelling robe and an indulgent smile.
'So, what have you forgotten...?' he began, then paused gaping as he registered his visitor's identity. 'Tavy-what the hell are you doing here?'
'I think it's called "wising up".' She couldn't believe how calm she sounded when, by rights, she should be falling apart. 'May I come in?'
There was another pause, then he reluctantly stood aside. She walked into the living room and looked around. The table in the window still held the remnants of breakfast for two, while the bedroom door was open affording a clear view of the tumbled bed.
'So,' she said. 'You and Fiona.'
'Yes,' he said. 'As it happens. I didn't know you'd been spying on us.'
'Spying?' she echoed incredulously. 'Don't be ridiculous. I had no idea until I saw her driving away.' She paused. 'When did it start?'
'Does it matter?' His tone was defensive. He looked uncomfortable. Even shifty.
'I think I'm entitled to ask.'
'Oh, for heaven's sake,' he said impatiently. 'You're a nice kid, Tavy, but it was never really serious between us. Surely you realised that.'
She said quietly, 'I'm beginning to. But what I can't quite figure is why "we" happened at all.'
He shrugged. 'When I came down here, I needed a local girlfriend, and you...filled the bill.'
'And was that why we only met outside the village-so that you could dump me for Fiona without looking quite so much of a bastard?'
'Oh, do we really have to pick it all over?' he asked irritably. 'Let's just say we had some nice times together and leave it there. Things change.'
Yes, thought Tavy. I've lost my job. I may lose my home and now I've lost you-except it seems that I never had you in the first place.
She lifted her chin. Smiled. 'In that case,' she said. 'Let me wish you both every happiness.' She paused. 'I presume you will be getting married.'
'Yes, when her divorce is finally settled, among other things.' He didn't smile back. 'Until then, perhaps you'd be good enough to keep your mouth shut about us.'
'Who,' she asked, 'could I possibly want to tell?'
And walked out, closing the door behind her.
She drove steadily back to Hazelton Magna. About a mile from the village she pulled over on to the verge, switched off the engine and sat for a while trying to gather her thoughts and gauge her own reactions. Waiting, too, for the pain to strike as if she'd just deliberately bitten down on an aching tooth.
After all, Patrick was the man she'd believed she was in love with-wasn't he?
Only, there was nothing. Not even a sense of shock. Just a voice in her head saying, 'So that's it.' Rather like being handed the solution to a puzzle-interesting, but not particularly important.
Looking back with new and sudden clarity, she could see she'd been flattered by Patrick's attentions because of the memory of that long-ago crush.
She'd let herself think a new chapter had opened in her life. Yet how in the world could she have mistaken lukewarm for passionate? Except, of course, she had no benchmark for comparison. Or, at least, not then...
No, don't go there.
Switching her mind determinedly back to Patrick, she could see now why there had been no pressure from him to consummate their relationship. Not consideration as she'd thought but indifference.
My God, she thought wryly. Even Dad saw that I was fooling myself.
And so did Jago...
Jago...
Even the whisper of his name made her tremble.
Now, there she could find pain, she thought. Pain that was immeasurably deep and frighteningly intense. Even life-changing. The certainty of it tightened her throat and set her pulses thudding crazily.
Patrick's kisses had been enjoyable but had always left her aware she should have wanted more but wondering about her uncertainty. Yet the mere brush of Jago's mouth on hers had opened a door into her senses that she'd never dreamed could exist. Offered a lure as arousing as it was dangerous.
And he hadn't even been trying. In fact, he'd probably been amusing himself by gauging the precise depth of her innocence.
Maybe because he too thought she was 'a nice kid', she told herself, and flinched.
Hang on to that thought, she adjured herself almost feverishly. That's the way to armour yourself against him, because you must do that. No out of the frying pan into the fire for you, my girl.
Tomorrow you go back to Market Tranton and you find a job stacking shelves or anything else that offers pay.
And you forget the past, disregard the present and concentrate on the future.
* * *
'Was Mrs Wilding at church?' she asked her father later as she dished up their lunch of lamb steaks with new potatoes and broccoli.
'Fortunately, no,' Mr Denison said, helping himself to mint sauce. 'I imagine she'll be transferring her allegiance to Saint Peter's in Gunslade for the duration.'
Tavy stared at him. 'But, Dad, she's on the parochial church council.'
'Yes, my dear, but that always had more to do with establishing her position in the village than anything else.' He paused. 'Did I mention that Julie Whitman and her fiancé were coming this afternoon at two-thirty to discuss their wedding? It could well be Holy Trinity's last marriage service, so we'll have to find some way to make it special.'
'Oh, don't say that.' Tavy shook her head. 'Maybe if we got up a petition...'
'I don't think so, darling. I'm afraid we have to bow to the inevitable, however unwelcome.'
Once the apple crumble which followed the lamb had been disposed of, Tavy cleared away, loaded the elderly dishwasher, and took her coffee into the garden. As she stepped on to the lawn, she heard the front doorbell sound in the distance. Julie and Graham had arrived early, she thought with a faint smile.
It was a warm day with only a light breeze and she wandered round, looking at the garden as if seeing it for the first time, kicking off her shoes to feel the fresh, sweet grass under her bare feet. Wondering if the lilac and laburnum had ever been so lovely and breathing in the scent of the early roses. Trying to capture a lifetime of memories in a moment.
She was under no illusions as to what would happen to the garden. The whole site would be bought up by a developer who would demolish the rambling inconvenient house, and use all the land to build a collection of bijou village residences. And she hoped she would be miles away when that happened, she thought fiercely.
She sat down under the magnolia on the ancient wooden bench she'd been planning to repaint and sipped her cooling coffee.
A wave of weariness swept over her. The day's revelations had taken their toll after all. Nor had she slept well the night before. Snatches of her disturbing dreams kept coming back to her, and she was glad she could not remember the rest of them.
Above her the magnolia blossoms shivered, and, through half-closed lids, she saw a shadow fall across the grass in front of her.
Her eyes snapped open and she sat up with a jerk, nearly spilling the remains of her coffee when she realised who was standing there.
She said breathlessly, 'How did you get in here?'
Jago shrugged. 'I rang the doorbell in the conventional way, was greeted by your father and chatted to him until the would-be-weds arrived when he sent me out here to find you. Is there a problem?'
She glared at him. 'It didn't occur to you that you're the last person I want to see?' And especially when I'm wearing the old denim skirt and washed out T-shirt I'd have once opted for.
'Yes,' he said. 'But I didn't let it trouble me for long.'
She said coldly, 'I suppose you've come to apologise.'
'Why? For suggesting you wake up and smell the coffee, or for kissing you? If so, you'll be disappointed. I have no regrets on either count.' Uninvited, he sat down on the grass, stretching long legs in front of him.
More chinos today, she noticed unwillingly, and a shirt the colour of a summer sky.
'Has the man at the top of your welcome list put in an appearance?'
'No,' said Tavy, fighting an urge to grind her teeth. 'Nor is he likely to.'
'Ah,' he said, and gave her a thoughtful glance. 'So you know.'
'Yes,' she admitted curtly.
'How did you find out?'
'I went over to his flat this morning-to talk.' She lifted her chin. 'She was-just leaving. It was clear she'd been there all night.'
He said quietly, 'And you're upset.'
'I'm devastated,' she said defiantly. 'Naturally.'
Jago's dark brows lifted. 'Then I can only say-I'm sorry.'
There was a silence, then Tavy said, 'Tell me something. How did you find out?'
'I became suspicious that night in the pub. She was so insistent we go there, and then the landlord told me they'd been quarrelling at the bar, and she'd been winding him up, apparently about being with me.
'I also have the hidden advantage of knowing Fiona's soon-to-be ex-husband,' he added calmly. 'We've had dinner a couple of times in London. I learned a lot about his brief marriage including his conviction that she'd been seeing someone else almost from the start. A boyfriend from the old days.'