Page 66 of Snow Falls Over Starry Cove

‘Would that be the same vicar who celebrated my grandfather’s memorial service?’

‘That’s the one. Blimey, that was quite the spectacle, wasn’t it?’

‘You mean my grandmother, yelling at Jago Moon? Yeah. What’s the issue there?’

Martin swallows his wine, eyes on me. ‘You don’t know?’

‘Not a thing, except that Jago was abandoned.’

‘Ah. That. Yes. And how is working with him?’ he asks, his eyes studying me above the rim of his glass.

‘Interesting,’ I say, not wanting to give anything away. In a tiny village like this, the less people know, the better.

‘I’d be very careful around him, in any case. He is a bit of a womaniser.’

‘I can’t see how,’ I reply as I take a sip of wine. ‘He’s not exactly loquacious, is he?’

Martin dips his head. ‘Men like Jago don’t need to talk, Emmie. They crook their little finger and the women go running after him. It’s an alchemy I’ll never understand.’

Nor can I, I think to myself. Who wants to be with someone so arrogant and uncouth?

‘Have you seen him lately?’ I find myself asking.

Martin shrugs. ‘He’s probably off on one of his suicidal benders. Maybe this time he’ll actually succeed.’

I gasp. ‘How can you say that? You’re adoctor… ’

He sighs, eyeing me. ‘Listen, Emmie. Jago’s not the man he used to be. We’ve all told you that. The nice bloke that once was is no longer. And besides, what do you even care? You never knew him back then. For all you know he could always have been bad.’

‘No.’ I swallow. ‘I know he’s not.’

‘Oh? And what have you got – a crystal ball or a time machine?’

‘No. Just empathy.’

Martin sighs sadly. ‘He’s right. You really are a sweet girl.’

My jaw drops. ‘He said that about me?’

He grunts. ‘Wake up, Emmie. A man like him will eat you for breakfast. Destroy you completely.’

*

I’ve learned a couple of lessons since I’ve arrived here in Starry Cove. One, never to go blind into a place of business you share with someone else, particularly one Jago Moon. Lord knows what he’ll be doing on the premises and who with. And two, never go walking in the Cornish countryside or on the coastal path where I currently find myself without a stick. So now I always take an umbrella with me, just to fend off any other feral animals, Jago included.

And like clockwork, as if he’s expecting me, Jago’s dog comes bounding over the horizon, his huge tongue flapping in the wind. Instinctively, I brace myself as he tries to launch himself at me like the other day, but he only skids to a halt right before me, as if awaiting my orders. He, too, must have learned a lesson.

‘Hi,’ I coo, bending down to pat it, albeit with trepidation. This thing could take my hand off. But instead he licks it, the big lump of fuzz that he is.

‘I swear that if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you’re stalking me,’ I blurt as Jago saunters up the hill towards me, hands in his pockets.

‘Hard not to bump into the same people in Starry Cove.’

‘I was talking to your dog,’ I quip.

‘Got me,’ he says, scanning the horizon, just like he did at the funeral.

It’s like he’s always looking for something. I wonder what he thinks is out there.

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