She sipped her rum but didn’t quite have the heart to dip another biscuit in it. She did want to get married, but there was only one man she wanted to get married to, and right now she had no idea what he wanted. And although he’d told her about his name change and the reasons for it, could she trust him? Also, while he was talking about marriage and asking her about weddings, he wasn’t asking her to marry him. And he might have told her about his past now, but he hadn’t said anything before. Had he been hoping to avoid telling her, ever?
She suddenly felt desperately tired and wanted her own bed and a novel where nothing bad happened. She yawned and then got up. ‘What time does Fred go to bed?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because I want to go to bed now. I think it’s the rum.’ It was better to blame it on the rum than to explain the turmoil he had caused her.
‘I could start getting him into bed any time now but why don’t you go now and get some sleep? I’ll be fine until about four o’clock in the morning.’
She felt a wave of fondness for him. He was being very kind. ‘You don’t have to stay up that long! Let me have a couple of hours and then wake me.’
‘All right.’
Something about the way he said this made her realise he wouldn’t wake her unless or until he was passing out with tiredness. ‘I’ll set my alarm, just in case,’ she said.
He made an indignant face. ‘In case of what?’
‘In case you forget to wake me.’
He laughed. ‘OK, I’ll wake you after two hours or so then.’
When she was finally convinced he wouldn’t take the entire night shift on his own she went to bed.
It was odd going to bed in the little narrow bed he’d been in so recently. The mattress was old and had a dip in the middle, which meant it had a coffin-like feel, but Helena decided it was cosy. The room was full of things cleared out of the living room, probably to make space for Fred’s medical paraphernalia. But underneath the piled-up furniture and boxes she found a cache of Mills and Boon novels.
‘Oh, lovely!’ said Helena out loud and found a couple she liked the look of. But she was asleep before she’d even properly opened the first one.
She was awake as soon as she heard Jago’s tap on the door. She called to him that she was up and pulled on some clothes. She left her hair in a tangle, thinking she could brush it when she was watching Fred.
‘That was quick,’ said Jago, looking at her a bit strangely.
‘I did my best. Now you go and get your head down. The bed is all warmed up for you.’
He didn’t go immediately. ‘I like your hair like that,’ he said.
‘Really?’ Helena didn’t believe him.
‘You know what to do? Help Fred to the loo, get him anything he needs and if he’s too heavy, or anything happens, call me immediately. OK?’
She nodded. ‘On your way, bonny lad,’ she said with a smile and a bad Scottish accent.
The moment he had gone she looked in the mirror. Her hair was a tousled mess but, she realised, it was also a bit sexy. At least Jago couldn’t possibly think she’d done it specially.
It was quite peaceful sitting in a dark room with a table lamp and a good book. She took Fred to the bathroom once, which took a long time, and before she knew it, it was nearly time to wake Jago. She decided she needed a cup of tea and made one for Jago, too.
Jago was facing the wall and stirred when she put the mug down on the bedside table. ‘Jago? Are you awake? It’s time for a shift change. I’ve brought you tea.’
Jago turned over and before she knew what he was about to do he had reached up and pulled her down for a kiss. She found herself in his arms, half lying on the single bed. For a second or two she allowed herself to stay there, wrapped in his arms, in the dark, just the two of them. And then thoughts of Fred, possibly needing the bathroom again, made her pull away.
‘We haven’t time for this,’ she said. ‘Drink your tea and then get up.’
She heard the shower going – an attachment on the taps in the narrow bath – and shortly afterwards he appeared in the living room.
‘OK, I’ll take over now,’ he said. ‘Thanks for the tea.’
She thought she’d never sleep but the bed was warm and cocoon-like and the room very dark. While she did spend quite a bit of time thinking about Jago and how she felt about him now, she did drift off and soon Jago was shaking her arm.
‘Hey! Wake up! You must have been very deeply asleep. I’ve been knocking and calling for ages.’
She sat up in bed. ‘Oh, gosh, sorry! What time is it?’
‘Just after four. Dawn is breaking and the birds are singing loud enough to deafen you.’
‘Have you made me tea?’
‘I have. It’s getting cold so hurry up!’
The dawn was so lovely it made Helena (who was a bit sleep-deprived) feel almost weepy. The sun was coming up, sending shafts of sunlight through woodlands, across fields and into the valleys. In the background the birds were so loud they could have been a music track.
She sat in the chair that Jago had moved so she could see the view and sipped her tea. As she watched the mist, which again reminded her so much of carded wool, drift across the landscape she saw a little group of deer emerge from the trees and start grazing in a field.
‘Look,’ she whispered. ‘The deer!’
‘You don’t have to whisper,’ said Jago, who’d reappeared behind her. ‘They won’t hear you from here.’
She dug him in the arm with her elbow. ‘Not them – Fred! How is he? Anything you need to tell me?’
‘Not really. He gets up early though so there’s no point in my going back to bed really.’
‘Go for a couple of hours. You can get him up when he’s ready. I’ll wake you.’
She had been planning to read but instead Helena sat and watched the day slowly wake with the promise of sunshine and light. But distracting her from the beauty, even more than the progress of the deer, who ate the grass for a bit and then meandered across to the next wood, were her thoughts of Jago. She had to get them into order, she decided.
Did she still love him? she asked herself. She decided she did because the thought of anything bad happening to him made her really sad. She tested the theory by imagining something awful happening to Cressida or Martin. She was upset and really didn’t want it to come about but she didn’t mind as much as when she thought of Jago suffering.
Could she forgive him for not telling her about his past? Well, she decided, he probably would have told her eventually, and so yes. Except she didn’t know this for sure. Doubt waved in and out of her mind. He’d worked hard to create a new identity, why would he risk telling anyone about his old one?
Abandoning the back-and-forth this created she asked herself other questions. Was Jago a kind man? Easy – yes, he was. She’d experienced it herself and seen it with Fred. He was extremely kind.
Did she fancy him? Another easy one: yes she did, a lot.
Hard question. Did she love him enough to overlook her doubts? Probably yes.
Hardest question. Was he so disillusioned by women that he wouldn’t be able to commit to a relationship again? Answer was definitely ‘don’t know’ followed by ‘hope not’.