A Springtime Affair: An utterly gorgeous feel-good romance

In the end it was three hours before Jago got back. By this time Helena and Fred were close friends. She’d read quite a lot of Dead Cert, made him a sandwich and a cup of tea, watched while he had a nap and, frighteningly, helped him to the loo. Fortunately once he was in there he could manage. But the unevenness of the floors and how hard he found it to manage them demonstrated that he urgently needed to live somewhere else.

Fred was asleep again by the time Helena heard Jago’s pickup arrive. She ran out to meet him.

‘Hi! Did you manage to get everything? Did you text Mum?’

‘I did and she rang me immediately so I was able to convince her you were fine but wouldn’t be back for a while.’ He studied her carefully. ‘I didn’t specify any time so you don’t need to worry about her worrying about you – but of course you can go now if you want to.’

She studied him back, trying to interpret his wishes from his calm, serious expression. She failed. ‘What would you like me to do?’

‘Honestly? I’d like you to stay – it’s too late for you to set off back home today in any case.’

Helena took a breath to ask if it was only concern for her that made him not want her to leave or if there were any other reasons but her nerve failed her. She didn’t feel she knew this Jonathan/Jago very well and couldn’t predict his response.

‘OK, well, let’s see what you’ve got and then think about supper. Fred had a cheese sandwich for lunch.’

‘Really? He managed that?’

‘I took the crusts off and cut it into very small pieces but he did find it a struggle. He enjoyed it though. I read him an awful lot of Dick Francis, too.’

‘So you didn’t talk much?’

Helena suppressed a sigh. ‘No, we didn’t talk much.’ Every time she’d tried to talk about Jago, Fred had changed the subject. ‘He didn’t tell me any of your secrets but I need you to tell me them. I can’t cope with not knowing who you are for much longer.’

Jago didn’t bother to suppress his sigh; it was loud and heartfelt. ‘I know. But it’ll take a while and I’m so tired and busy. Oh, by the way, I broke into your car and retrieved the shortbread and your overnight bag.’

‘Useful and worrying at the same time, but mostly useful so thank you.’ Then, remembering he hadn’t slept properly because he’d been sitting up with Fred, she went on, ‘Why don’t you have a nap? I’ll do supper and maybe put the telly on for Fred to keep him amused?’

‘That would be great, if you don’t mind? Fred is my responsibility, not yours.’

‘He’s my friend, which is also important, and when you wake up, when we’ve a suitable moment, you’re going to tell me just why he’s your responsibility.’

‘OK.’ Jago seemed very tired, more tired even than a night dozing in an armchair should make you. He took a couple of steps out of the kitchen and then turned back. ‘Good luck with the telly. Only three channels and one of them is Welsh. Luckily I bought a paper …’

By six o’clock Helena had made a cottage pie out of the mince Jago had bought, and given Fred some. He was very enthusiastic about it but didn’t actually eat very much. Helena didn’t eat very much either. She and Fred were drinking tea and looking at the view (Jago had been right about the telly not being up to much) when Jago came in.

They were both pleased to see him. Although happy with each other – Helena was learning how best to help Fred all the time – they were both aware of Jago’s absence, although Fred called him Jon.

‘Go and get yourself some pie and then come and entertain this young lady,’ said Fred. ‘She’s bored with me.’

‘I am absolutely not bored with you!’ said Helena indignantly. ‘But do help yourself to pie, Jago, and then join us. I want to know how you two met.’

It was a simple question and Helena said it in the bright way people do when they’re making small talk. But no one was fooled.

‘This may need a drink,’ said Jago. ‘I bought a bottle of rum. I know you like it, Fred.’

‘Not really allowed it now, but you could put a drop in my tea and no one would notice,’ he said.

‘Just more tea for me, please,’ said Helena when Jago looked at her enquiringly. ‘Oh, and ginger biscuits please. For dunking.’

‘Good idea,’ said Fred.

While Jago was away Helena smiled at Fred. ‘So you and him go back a long way?’

Fred smiled too, but shook his head. ‘I’ll let him tell you.’

There was a lot of moving small tables and shifting chairs slightly and seeing Fred was all right before Jago finally said, ‘OK. Well, it was about ten years ago, wasn’t it, Fred?’

Fred nodded. ‘Ten years. I was a relatively fit man then.’

‘And you met where?’ said Helena, who was by this time beside herself with impatience. She was crunching into ginger nuts as if they were the enemy.

‘You’d better start at the beginning, lad,’ said Fred.

‘I don’t know how much Helena knows. There’s stuff on the internet and she’ll have read that,’ said Jago.

‘You tell her,’ said Fred firmly. ‘There were a lot of lies told at the time. She’ll only hear the whole truth from you.’

‘What have you read?’ Jago asked Helena, obviously terribly unwilling to say a word more than necessary.

‘I read about the fire in the block of flats where five people were nearly killed. The fire brigade got awards for saving them. It was thought to be shoddy building work that made the fire spread once it had started. The building company – Relto – was condemned for its bad practice. The head of the company was sued for manslaughter but got off. Clever lawyers, everyone thought. The world was outraged. I actually remember it although I was quite young and didn’t pay much attention to current events.’

‘So was I,’ said Jago, ‘though I was of working age.’

‘You were just a lad, Jonathan, and they tried to blame you for everything,’ said Fred. ‘His uncle’ – Fred addressed Helena – ‘he owned the business; he was responsible. What he said, went. Young Jonathan was in quite a different part of the business. He was selling the properties that his uncle threw up.’

‘Did you work there too then, Fred?’ asked Helena.

He nodded. ‘I was on the construction side.’

‘So you met through work?’ Helena went on, hoping she’d get the whole story.

‘Not at the time,’ said Jago. ‘I met Fred after it had all gone horribly wrong.’

‘Oh?’ Helena felt she had to keep prompting because both Fred and Jago were so reluctant to tell her what had happened.

‘For some reason,’ said Jago, ‘I got all the flack, the doorstepping, pilloried in the press, all that stuff.’ He paused. ‘Long sessions with the police which actually worked in my favour in the end because I got to know one of the younger ones. He was my contact when I wanted to find out about that Leo your mother was going out with.’

Fred wasn’t interested in any upsides, he was too indignant. ‘You got that because your uncle kindly redirected all the stuff that he should have dealt with to his nephew.’ Outrage gave Fred energy and he seemed to have stopped being old and frail for the time being. ‘He blamed everything on the apprentice who was working his way up from the bottom, to keep himself out of prison.’

‘Is that true?’ Helena was outraged.

Jago nodded. ‘I was in a bad place in every way when I met Fred.’

‘We met at the site of the fire, by coincidence,’ said Fred. ‘I recognised him, we got chatting and I offered to teach him bricklaying.’

Jago grinned. ‘You told me it was time I got calluses on my hands and actually learned how to build. He took me on, and I learned my trade.’ He paused. ‘I decided to change my name by deed poll before I did that. Grew my hair and a bit of a beard. No one recognised me.’

‘I never agreed with you having to change your identity,’ said Fred. ‘It looked as if you’d done something wrong.’

‘Maybe it was cowardly, but I was so ashamed of my name, I didn’t want to be known by it any more.’

‘How did you choose your new name?’ asked Helena.

‘Jago was a nickname from school, and Pengelly was my grandmother’s name. There is a Cornish connection so I’m not a complete fraud. Anyone else for more tea?’

While he was out of the room Fred said, ‘We’ve kept in touch and he’s always helped me out if I’m in bother. He’s supported my family, too. Not with money but with jobs and accommodation once or twice. He’s built a new life for himself. I’m proud of him.’

Helena’s throat suddenly closed with emotion as she realised she felt proud of him too.

After Jago had brought the tea, he went out again and came back with a bowl of jelly and ice cream for Fred. ‘My favourite,’ he said happily as Jago put it in front of him.

‘I suppose it’s nice and easy to eat,’ said Helena.

Fred gave her a funny look. ‘It’s bloody delicious. It’s always been my favourite.’

Seeing Fred’s, Helena wanted jelly and ice cream too. When they had all had it, Fred yawned.

‘Tell you what, it’s turned into a lovely evening out there,’ he said to Jago. ‘Why don’t you take Helena outside and tell her the rest of the story? There’s a nice bench a little way along. Perfect for looking at the view and talking.’

Helena looked at Jago, who then looked at Fred. ‘You’ll be OK?’

‘I’ve got my bell. I’ll ring if I need you.’

Jago got up and held out his hand for Helena’s so he could pull her up too. ‘This calls for rum.’

‘And more ginger biscuits. For dunking,’ she said.

‘Really?’ Jago and Fred both looked horrified.

‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.’

Jago had to go back inside for an old mac and cushions as the seat, although perfectly positioned, was soaking wet.

‘It is an idyllic spot,’ said Helena. ‘You get a bit of both views, the one at the front and the one at the back.’

Jago nodded. ‘My plan is to make the cottage habitable – extend it a bit – and then Fred could maybe come up for holidays with his daughter and her family.’ He looked down at her. ‘Maybe we could come up here too?’ He had become tentative as if not quite sure how he stood with her.

She picked up on his doubt and became shy. ‘I would like that.’

He handed her a glass of rum and the packet of biscuits. She took one and dipped it in. ‘So?’ she asked. ‘What’s the rest of the story?’

‘It’s more background really. Before the fire I was engaged to be married. We were young but we were in love and she had a big wedding planned. All the bells and whistles, country house hotel, a band for the day and another for the night. Her dress cost several thousand pounds.’

‘Oh my goodness.’ Helena crunched into a rum-soaked biscuit for support.

‘But after it all blew up she broke off the engagement. Said she didn’t want everyone to be putting up pictures and mocking her for marrying a man who could have been responsible for people dying.’

‘Although they didn’t die.’

‘And I wasn’t responsible. She knew that, but the rest of the world thought I was. She had a point.’

Helena sipped the rum without the biscuit and found she liked it.

‘I suggested we elope, so we’d be married but we just wouldn’t have the big party. It turned out it was the big party she wanted really, so our relationship probably would have ended in tears anyway.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘She liked being engaged to the nephew of a major property developer; she didn’t want to be shacked up with a simple builder who was going to have to start again with nothing.’

‘There’s that song,’ said Helena. ‘“If I were a carpenter, and you were a lady …”’

‘Believe me, that song was often in my head in those early months.’

‘So, you not only lost your job and your reputation, you lost the love of your life as well.’

Jago nodded. ‘Except she wasn’t the love of my life as it turned out; she was quite selfish and a bit irritating.’ He paused. ‘She would have never put aside her claustrophobia and got covered in mud because a stranger asked her to rescue a kitten.’

‘Oh.’ Helena’s mood had been pensive but it took a little uplift now.

‘Although I suppose I can’t blame her for wanting the huge extravaganza. It’s what every little girl wants, isn’t it, from when they’re nine years old? That’s what she told me.’

Helena shrugged. ‘Is it? I don’t know.’

‘Really?’ He seemed surprised, almost disbelieving.

‘I may be on my own here, but I haven’t given my wedding any thought at all.’ Now she did think about it she realised she wanted something quite low-key, at her mother’s house. Tent in the garden, lots of cake.

‘But don’t you want to get married?’

She couldn’t read his expression. He was confused, she decided, possibly a bit disappointed, and disbelieving. ‘Well, I haven’t ruled it out. But my life has been focused on different things: my weaving, my career, earning a living.’ She paused. ‘I would like children, eventually – I can’t deprive my mum of grandchildren she’s allowed to feed – but I haven’t really thought about it.’

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’.

Final question. How did he feel about her? He certainly fancied her and liked her as a person, but love? She couldn’t know. He hadn’t said as much although he had come near it.

She was grateful when Fred stirred, wanting the bathroom. She was driving herself mad with her questions.