THERE IS SILENCE in the kitchen after Mungo and Mopsa depart: an awkward silence during which neither Jake nor Kit can think of anything to say.
‘Well, that was excellent,’ says Jake eventually. ‘You were right. Mungo is a very good cook.’
Kit agrees brightly: too brightly. She feels embarrassed and constrained, yet while Mungo and Mopsa were with them everything was so easy; such fun.
It’s crazy, she thinks. I don’t know what to say to him now. I just sound banal and he knows exactly how I’m feeling and he doesn’t know what to say either. Blast Mungo. Why did he have to go?
‘It’s odd to see Mungo here in this cottage,’ Jake is saying. ‘From what you read about him you imagine him happiest among the fleshpots, not in a tiny rural hamlet.’
Kit knows that Jake is trying to slice his way through the barrier that has suddenly grown up between them with casual conversation but it hurts her that she and Jake of all people need to use this device. She wants to recapture the ease, the old familiarity of friendship, which was so quickly resumed earlier. The pain and resentments of the past dissipated in the face of Mungo’s humour, his delight in the situation and his generous hospitality. His approving presence gave them the freedom to accept each other; to feel young again: conversation, like Mungo’s wine, flowing freely, jokes being made, the old affection springing up so naturally.
‘Mungo tends to send himself up in public,’ she answers, ‘and, of course, the media love it. They respect him, though, and leave his private life alone.’
‘No scandals?’
Kit shakes her head. ‘None. Well, there was a time in the sixties when the nation thought that he and Isobel Trent were the great romantic couple of all time but Mungo and Izzy managed to keep everyone guessing until it died a natural death. Mungo’s very clever.’
‘He must be,’ says Jake, smiling a little. ‘Now that I’ve met him I’d say that he is what my maternal grandmother would have called “other”. Back then the media could have had a field day.’
‘Versatile,’ says Kit primly. ‘That’s how Mungo describes himself.’
Jake laughs out loud. ‘Love it,’ he says. ‘So then, Kit. What happens next?’
She stares at him in alarm. This switch throws her off balance and she doesn’t know how to answer him. She just wants to go on sitting in Mungo’s kitchen without having to think about what happens next, and she curses herself for her inadequacy. Why should it be that she, who has spent her working life confidently deciding what her clients should sit on, eat from, cook with, look at on their walls, should be so inept at making decisions about her own life?
‘Do we think we can move on?’ he’s asking. He leans forward, his hands clasped on Mungo’s beautiful old French farmhouse table. ‘It seems specious to say “carry on where we left off” because it’s too long ago and too much has happened, but now, here, it almost feels as if we could. Do you want to try, Kit?’
‘Yes,’ she says quickly, her own hands clutched together on her knees, out of sight beneath the table. ‘Yes, I do.’
He sits back with a great sigh of relief. They look at each other and the old, familiar ease begins to creep between them again.
‘But not here?’ he suggests, amused. ‘You know that Mungo has invited me to stay in the barn?’
‘Well, he shouldn’t have,’ she says crossly. ‘I told him he wasn’t to do that. It’s completely out of order.’
‘I agree,’ says Jake, grinning. ‘I think he sees himself as a dear old nanny looking after two wayward toddlers.’
‘Hmm,’ says Kit sceptically. ‘I think he just wants to keep you nearby in case I turn you down. I adore Mungo but I wouldn’t trust him an inch.’
They both laugh, completely at one again.
‘I’m very grateful to him,’ admits Jake. ‘This has just been a perfect way to reconnect.’
‘I agree,’ says Kit, ‘I just don’t want us to be regarded as Mungo’s next production. Seriously, though, he’s a fantastic friend and I can’t bear to hurt his feelings either. I can’t just walk out on him now that you’ve turned up. What are your plans?’
‘I shall go back to the hotel,’ says Jake. ‘I booked three nights to give me a chance to find you if you were around but I’ve no immediate commitments. Come and have dinner with me this evening?’
She hesitates, nods. ‘And Mungo? Or just me?’
He thinks about it. ‘Invite him,’ he says at last. ‘I think his answer will be very revealing as to how we play the next few days.’
‘You can’t be serious,’ says Mungo indignantly, when she poses the question later, when Jake has gone. ‘Being a gooseberry isn’t my line at all, sweetie. Lunch was quite different, and I’m glad it got you both off to a good start, but I’m not good at being an extra. Leading man or nothing, that’s me. You can invite him here, of course, whenever you like.’
Kit feels huge relief but guilt, too. She knows she’s trying to have her cake and eat it: she wants to have Jake nearby, to have time to test her feelings about him, whilst keeping Mungo’s support. She goes and puts her arms around him.
‘You are such a mate, Mungo,’ she says.
He gives her a hug, pats her shoulder blade. ‘Silly moo. I suppose this means you’ll be going back to London?’
She can hear the disappointment in his voice and hastens to reassure him.
‘Oh, not just yet. I think we can have quite a lot of fun here before we take the next step. I think Jake will enjoy seeing the old familiar places and I want you to get to know him.’
‘That’s good then.’ Mungo brightens at the prospect. ‘I have to say he’s gorgeous. I’m rather sorry that he didn’t take me up on my offer of the barn.’
‘Well, I’m not,’ says Kit firmly. ‘I need space. You said you wouldn’t ask him. You promised.’
‘Couldn’t resist,’ he sighs. ‘My baser instincts got the better of me. But I agree you need your own space. You must do whatever is best for you, sweetie.’
‘I’ll stay for a few more days, if that’s OK,’ she says. ‘I’d really like that.’
Now that Mungo has stepped back Kit feels quite happy to remain here with him. She’s not ready to be on her own with Jake in London; she’d rather take things slowly surrounded by old friends on neutral territory.
‘That’s settled then,’ he says contentedly. ‘So what will you wear this evening? I hope you’ve brought something pretty with you. You can’t go to dinner with an old flame in those tatty jeans.’
Jake drives carefully, repeating Mungo’s directions under his breath. ‘Turn right at the end of the lane. First left, then follow the directions for Ashburton …’
He wonders if Mungo will come to dinner, and hopes not, but he’s glad that Kit has decided to stay on. He knows that she’s not ready for the next step; that back in London on her own patch, she might get an attack of the wobbles and be unwilling to take the risk to change her well-ordered life.
A small boy on a scooter whizzes around the bend in the lane and Jake turns the wheel quickly to avoid him. A pretty girl, pushing a buggy, hurries to his side, waves apologetically at Jake, who waves back miming ‘no harm done’ and glances in the rear mirror at her. She has a kind of gamine, Audrey Hepburn look; very attractive.
Kit used to call him ‘Jake the Rake’ when they were young because of his predilection for pretty girls. She didn’t seem to mind. It was as if the chemistry between them was much stronger and more important than simple physical attraction. Anyway, she liked to play the field, too, and it was she who resisted his proposals of marriage. He wonders how she would get on with his daughters and their families; whether she would connect with them. He hopes that in time they might be relieved to see him with a companion, someone of his own, and he has no intention of becoming a well-loved but slightly inconvenient parcel to be passed around at Christmas and on his birthday. ‘We had him last year, it’s your turn this year.’ He loves his girls and his grandchildren but he is a pragmatist. They are busy: they have their own hectic lives. He wants his own life, his own agenda, and someone with whom to live it, and he is certain now that he wants that someone to be Kit. She is a huge piece in the puzzle that is Jake; an important piece that was lost for a while, leaving a jagged space; an emptiness. As soon as he saw her sitting with Mungo at the café table it was as if something happened in his heart: he was made whole again.
Earlier, while they were together with Mungo, he believed that she felt the same. Now, as Jake drives back to Totnes, anxiety begins to nibble like a rat at the edge of his confidence. Is it possible that she might still be unable to commit to him? What can he do to show her how good life could be if they were to share it? He must make the most of this evening. Perhaps he should take her somewhere a little more intimate than the hotel full of families on holiday. He wonders if he should check out the local hostelries and then decides that he’ll play it by ear. They’ll do it together as they always used to; peering through restaurant windows, sitting at the bar having a drink in a bistro, checking out the specials’ board. Kit might have a favourite place she’ll want to share with him.
The prospect fills him with delight. He drives through Ashburton and heads back towards Totnes.