by Alys West
“Then you do.” Jenna put her fiddle down and leaned forward. “There’s generations of Orkney blood in your veins. You shouldn’t underestimate the power of that.”
He rubbed his eyes. “I’d better go. Big day tomorrow.”
“Of course.” Jenna stood. “Good luck. Not that you’ll need it.”
“Thanks.” He yawned. “It feels like there’s a lot riding on it, you know? I’m Sheila’s grandson and Dougie’s nephew to most people here. I have to change that, make them see me as an engineer instead.”
Jenna couldn’t help herself. He looked so uncertain. Her hand brushed the sleeve of his jumper. “You will.”
“Thanks.” He glanced away for a second before his gaze met hers again. “Are you working on Saturday?”
“I …I’m not sure.” Jenna was pretty certain she was rotaed on but she’d beg, borrow or bribe someone to take her shift for her. “Why?”
“Well, I’m short of a date for the wedding. Will you come as my plus one? I know it’s short notice so if you can’t it doesn’t matter.”
“I’d love to!” Realising she’d sounded a bit too keen, she forced a grin. “But only to see you in a kilt!”
“Great, thanks. It’ll be good to have a friend there. There’s only so much of all my relatives I can handle in one go.”
The casual way he said ‘friend’ stabbed through her. “Grand. Thanks for asking me. It’ll be nice to see Sheila and your parents.”
Picking up his guitar case, he headed into the hall. “Okay, kick-off’s at twelve.”
She laughed. “I’m pretty sure they don’t call it kick-off.”
“You know what I mean. I’ll have to be there earlier for ushering duties.”
“I’ll walk up for about half-eleven, shall I?” Jenna opened the front door letting in the cool evening air.
“Okay.” She thought for a moment he was going to kiss her cheek but he simply nodded and walked down the stairs.
Closing the door, she leaned against it. He’d asked her to Kenny and Amy’s wedding! Alright, so it was as a friend but the fact that he’d asked had to mean something. Her smile grew and grew until she remembered she’d got absolutely nothing to wear.
PART TWO
UNION
There has been too much time spent and too much energy expended in enumerating the differences between spellwork and Druidry. Magic unites us and we have much to learn from each other.
The Spiral Path by Nina Stewart (unpublished)
Chapter 10
Winston took a second slice of toast and piled marmalade on it. It was homemade by Cathy, his very chatty landlady, and undoubtedly one of the perks of staying here and, for the first time this week, he’d a chance to enjoy it. He poured himself a second cup of coffee and sat back in his chair. At the small tables around him, visitors chatted about their plans for the day. At least, he guessed that’s what the German couple were saying. He recognised the words ‘Highland Park’ and nodded. One day, before he left these benighted, rain-drenched islands, he was going to do the distillery tour.
Taking his phone from the back pocket of his jeans he searched for Birsay to look up tide times. He’d ridden out there on Sunday afternoon without checking first, only to find it was high tide. It hadn’t been a completely wasted trip. He’d walked along the coastal path looking for Skipi Geo. It was a small rocky inlet with a treacherous path down to a small beach. As it’d been completely covered in water he’d not attempted the climb down.
After he’d walked back to the bike, he’d ridden the half mile or so down the road to Birsay. It was tiny, barely a village at all by his standards; a few houses grouped around the ruins of the Earl’s Palace, built by Robert Stewart, illegitimate half-brother to Mary Queen of Scots. He’d strolled around the ruined building, putting together the missing pieces until he’d got an image of the mansion it’d been in the sixteenth century when it was the hub of Earl Robert’s power in the Northern Isles.
Then, unable to resist the temptation to see where Jenna had lived and worked, he’d walked up the road to the Palace Tearooms. He’d been surprised how modern the place looked with its picture windows giving a panoramic view over the arc of the bay. Drinking surprisingly good coffee and enjoying an excellent slice of fruit cake, he’d wondered again how she’d coped. How had she gone from a full and busy life in Edinburgh to shutting herself away in the arse end of nowhere like this? He couldn’t imagine making that sacrifice for any member of his family, not even his mum. They simply weren’t that close. Hadn’t been since the days at Glenard. Now they lived separate lives, barely intersecting except for duty visits at Christmas and birthdays. He wasn’t completely sure she knew he was in Orkney.
The rest of his week had been taken up with work. With the covers coming off the dig on Monday there’d been lots of preparation to do. Unusually for such an important site, the Ness of Brodgar dig was privately funded, which meant things weren’t always done in the ways he was used to. He’d met volunteers with boxes of finds under their beds and he was itching to get his hands on some of the ones he’d only heard about. His talk to the Orkney Archaeological Society on Thursday night had gone well with far more people attending than he’d expected. He’d hoped to pop into The Fiddlers when it was finished but some of the committee from the Archaeological Society had taken him out for drinks afterwards and it’d been too late when they’d finally called it a night.
He’d rung Jenna twice. Once to ask if Nina always swam in the same place and the second time to find out if she knew of any issues or tensions between The Order. She’d seemed distracted both times they’d spoken. She’d told him Nina usually swam at the Point of Buckquoy but if the weather was poor she might drive down to Warbeth Beach near Stromness and that she always swam alone, although Jet, their black Labrador often walked to the beach with her. She’d been less helpful about The Order and had gone quiet on him.
He needed an excuse to see her. Only when they were face to face did he have any hope of figuring out what was bothering her and finding a way to get her to open up again. On an island this tiny, he was bound to bump into her again some time but he’d like to give that a nudge in the right direction. Only she wasn’t on Facebook. Nor Twitter or Instagram as far as he could tell although he’d not ruled out the possibility of her having a username he couldn’t guess.
He’d been an idiot to agree to keep his distance. How much patience did he think he had? This return trip to Birsay had to raise some questions Google couldn’t answer.
The tide would be out by two this afternoon. Before then he’d got a paper on incised stones to be working on. Pocketing his mobile, he stuffed the last mouthful of toast into his mouth and left the dining room.
***
Pulling her baseball cap lower, Rachel got out of the car and walked down the pier of Kirkwall harbour towards the town. As usual on a weekend, there was hardly anyone around. There wasn’t a ferry due for hours. A few trawlers were moored against the harbour wall but there was no one visible on deck. Across in the marina there was a flurry of activity as a yacht got ready to leave.
She really shouldn’t park here anymore. The pass on Dad’s car had long since expired but no one ever said anything. Crossing Shore Street, she headed up through the town towards the Cathedral.
Gaze fixed on the pavement she wondered if this was a mistake. Could she really handle seeing him all dressed up ready to marry someone else? This should have been her day. She’d started planning it, bought a few of those pricey bridal magazines, spent hours looking at photos of dresses and flowers.
Of course, her wedding would never have been such a fancy affair. It wouldn’t have been the Cathedral for her, more likely the registration office with a few drinks at The Commercial in Stromness afterwards. But for Amy nothing was too good. It’d always been that way. Her parents had spoilt her, given her everything she wanted since she was a peedie girl. The reception was going to be at The Skerries Hotel at St Ola with a sit-down mea
l for a hundred and dancing to a band brought over from Inverness.
Joining Broad Street, she saw folk congregating outside the west front of the Cathedral. Women in pretty floral dresses trying to hold on to their hats in the stiff breeze, men in kilts and suits shaking hands and greeting each other. She crossed the road and walked past the row of expensive shops opposite the Cathedral’s west front.
Passing a group of tourists, she glanced across the road and her heart constricted as if a hand had reached into her chest and squeezed it. The bastard was wearing a kilt! She’d asked him to do that, had planned the whole colour scheme for the wedding around Orkney tartan but he’d said he’d look a right numpty in a kilt in the registration office.
Tears prickled behind her eyes. She ducked her head and slipped around the whitewashed arch that led into the Museum. When she looked again, Kenny was laughing with Craig and Hal. The happiness on his face intensified the grip around her heart. She couldn’t bear it. She looked past him at the Cathedral; staring at the red sandstone, the stained-glass windows and the pinnacles decorating the roof line until the threat of tears passed. When she looked back, Kenny and Craig were stepping through the wide west door into the dim interior of the Cathedral.
Rachel checked her watch. Only twenty minutes until the bride arrived.
***
Very aware of her red heels pinching her toes, Jenna walked up the hill already regretting her footwear choice. They were a pair of the good shoes she’d somehow (how much wine had she drunk that night?) told Winston about but as she’d not worn them since she came home, barely worn heels at all, she shouldn’t be surprised they were rubbing already.
The brisk breeze blowing off the Peedie Sea pressed her skirt against her legs. Despite the bright sun the day felt cool and she tugged the red bolero cardigan tighter. Was the dress too much? She felt like her breasts were in imminent danger of popping out of it. She really should have ordered the size 16. Hal would see her and think she was off to perform in a burlesque rather than attend his cousin’s wedding.
Turning on to Broad Street she saw people standing outside the Cathedral. Automatically, she checked her watch and then realised she wasn’t wearing it. She was a peedie bit later than Hal had said as she’d spent too long trying to get her hair to curl. Getting closer she recognised Dr Lloyd and his wife, Pippa, chatting to Amy’s aunt. She took a deep breath and then stopped when her chest swelled perilously.
“Jenna! I haven’t seen you in ages.” Pippa Lloyd’s English accent cut through the quiet burr of Orcadian voices. She leaned in to air-kiss a spot three inches above Jenna’s cheek. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, Pippa said, “You’ll have heard about Andrew Stewart’s plans for Nethertown? I’m starting up the protest group again. We can’t let him push this through a second time. The new proposal is even larger than the first one.”
“I know.” Jenna’s fingers tightened around her clutch bag. “I saw it in the paper.”
Her husband turned. “I’m sure Jenna doesn’t want to talk about her uncle’s plans today,” Chris Lloyd said.
“To be honest, I never want to talk about Uncle Andrew’s plans.”
“But you’ll come to the meetings?” Pippa said. “We need you. Nina’s involvement made all the difference last time.”
“I don’t know.” Jenna turned away as the wind blew her hair around her face. This was someone else assuming she’d automatically step into Mum’s shoes but she couldn’t tell Pippa where to go as she had with Winston. “Email me the dates and I’ll see if I can make it.”
“Okay, but it’d be a big help if you came,” Pippa said.
“How do you know Amy and Kenny?” Chris Lloyd asked quickly.
“I don’t really. I’m here with Hal.” A smile flickered across Pippa’s face and Jenna hurried on wanting to dispel any misunderstandings. “Just as friends. He was short of a date so he asked me to come along.”
“How nice of him,” Pippa said. “And you look lovely. What a pretty dress!”
“Thanks. It only arrived yesterday and I keep thinking I should have got the bigger size.” Jenna glanced down at her cleavage praying the dress hadn’t slipped any further. It did have straps but they were such tiny, skinny things they were hardly any use at all.
“It suits you. Really.”
After thanking her again and nodding hello to Amy’s aunt who she knew from the library in Stromness, Jenna joined the queue waiting to enter the Cathedral. Stepping over the threshold, her eyes struggled to adjust to the dim light. A very familiar voice said, “Whoa, you look great!”
Blinking, Jenna looked up. Hal handed her an order of service. Automatically she took it. And her jaw dropped. He looked amazing. Okay, she’d been fantasising about him in a kilt all week but the reality was so much better. The tailored black jacket showed off his broad shoulders, the kilt finished immediately below his knee (and there was nothing wrong with his legs!) and a black shirt with a blue tie, which picked out both the colour of the tartan and his eyes. Black socks and plain brogues finished the outfit. It was traditional with attitude and it suited him completely.
He ducked his head. “I know, I look ridiculous!”
“Actually, you look kind of great.”
“Kind of?”
“Yeah, not bad at all for a scruffy engineer who’s usually up to his elbows in oil!” The bantering tone took all the control she’d got. “Where shall I sit?”
He pointed at the right side of the aisle. “You can sit up the front with the family if you want or there’s friends further back.”
“I’ll take the friends seeing as you’re so busy being usher of the year.” As she moved away, Hal’s hand found her arm.
“Thanks for coming.”
“My pleasure.” She turned away to hide her smile. He was glad she’d come. It was worth seventy quid for a new dress, almost two hours getting ready and blisters on her toes for that.
***
Hidden by the arch, Rachel watched Kenny’s family going into the Cathedral. Folk she’d thought would one day be her family, and here they were, dressed up to the nines to celebrate the wedding of the man she loved to someone else.
The sick feeling intensified. She breathed slowly, closed her eyes, counted each inhale in and out. When she looked up a huge dark cumulous cloud had crept over the sun.
A dark-haired woman, wobbling on high heels, joined the group. The woman turned, smiled. Rachel’s eyes widened as she recognised Jenna Henderson. She wouldn’t wear those heels or a dress like that if her life depended on it but she had to admit Jenna looked good. The dress, in dark blue patterned with red roses, showed off her figure making her look like a Fifties starlet.
For a moment, she wondered what the connection was. She didn’t think Jenna knew Kenny. And she was no friend of Amy’s, that was for certain. Jenna’s family had kept themselves to themselves and, although Rachel knew the reason for that now, Amy had always thought Jenna was a bit up herself. But in Orkney there was always a link somewhere. It was one of the things that increasingly she hated about the place.
The wind picked up. The guests, holding on tighter to fascinators and skirts, bustled through the Cathedral’s doors. A few stragglers were hurrying up Broad Street as a white Mercedes decked in ribbon pulled up. Amy’s Mum, Carole, got out followed by two bridesmaids. Rachel gasped. Their dresses were teal. That’s what she’d wanted! She’d showed Amy a picture of dresses like that, cut it out and kept it in her wedding planning file.
Her throat tightened, tears pricked her eyes. Scrunching them up, she shut out the image of the bridesmaids lining up to have their photograph taken. The power was swelling inside her. Brimming up from the wellspring of pain squeezing her heart.
In a whisper she recited the words of the spell she’d been practising for the past week. In her mind, she called on the four elements. Fire swept through her, meeting and merging with the rage she carried. Her feet felt more rooted to the earth as she sought the strength o
f the ground beneath her. Her mind reached out to the water surrounding the island and lastly, she called on air, felt it billow and grow. Her hands swept out as she looked up. Fat drops of rain pelted her face, washing away the tears. She tugged her baseball cap off and let it drench her hair.
The bridesmaids scurried inside as the photographer took shelter inside the doorway. Hal looked out, checked the sky and disappeared.
Five to twelve. Not long to wait. But then Amy was always late.
***
The organ music couldn’t drown out the buzz of conversation as guests chatted, leaning over the rows of chairs, standing to greet old friends and catch up. Walking up the aisle Jenna passed a couple of overexuberant flower arrangements in white and blue which must be the work of Hal’s gran, Sheila, and her friends. She nodded at a couple from Stromness whose daughter she’d been to school with and then, finding a half-empty row, sat down.
Massive sandstone pillars supported the roof and stole space from the nave, beyond them was the raised area with a simple wooden table where the ceremony would take place, to the left was the carved pulpit. Behind that, although she couldn’t really see them from here, were the choir stalls and organ. Light streamed through the stained-glass rose window at the east end. Tombstones lined the walls of the aisle. She was too far away to read the inscriptions but could make out the skull and bones carved into the top of the nearest stone. A shiver ran down her spine. The reminder of death was palpable, which must be exactly what the masons had intended.
Instinctively, she turned to look for Hal. Being so tall he was always easy to find and his kilt made him even more distinctive today. He was peering out of the door. Behind him, rain darkened the pavements. Frowning, he looked around. A verger came up and handed him a golfing umbrella.
