by Alys West
“I remember Padraig telling me if you burned it the ashes could stop wind but I need to try it. Padraig was pretty vague about how much you needed and how quickly it worked.”
“But if it does, you’ve got the answer to Winston’s problem?” Zoe spread honey over her toast. They bought it from a nearby farmer and it tasted of heather and gorse, or possibly broom, and she loved it.
“Part of it. The storm witch can control water too.”
“How did he sound? Winston? When you spoke to him?” The call had woken her but Finn had got out of bed to speak to him and she’d been three-quarters asleep again by the time he came back.
“Worried. And not only about the storm witch. About Jenna too.” Finn finished buttering his toast and added liberal amounts of Marmite. “I think you’re right, he does like her.”
“I told you!”
“I know you did.” Finn leaned back against the kitchen worktops and bit into his toast. “But if you’d known him as long as I have you’d know how unlikely it is. Believe me, many women have tried. What’s different about this Jenna?”
“She knows about his magic. How many of the women he’s been with have known that?”
“None. At least, not since Amber.”
“You’ve never mentioned her before. Is she Winston’s lost love? The reason he’s never willing to settle down?”
“Something like that.”
“Come on then,” Zoe waved her last bit of toast at him. “Tell me what happened.”
Finn glanced away. “It’s not my story to tell.”
“Oh, no!” Zoe swallowed the last bite. “You can’t pull that line. You have to tell me now.”
“You have to promise not to let on that you know.” Finn put his empty plate down and came to stand next to her. “He’ll skin me alive if he finds out I’ve told you.”
“I promise, okay?” Zoe mimed zipping her lips. “Now, who was she and what did she do?”
“They were together at university in Sheffield. I didn’t know him back then so I only know what he’s told me and that’s pretty thin. They were together for three years and he told her about being a druid and about the magical community. From what I’ve gathered, he clearly thought they were in it for the long haul and she had to know.”
“Okay, then what happened?”
“Winston was a couple of years older than her and after he’d got his MSc, he moved to Glasgow to do his PhD.” Finn pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down. “And at some point, I don’t know exactly when, he found out Amber was sleeping with a male spellworker.”
“Oh no! Poor Winston.” Zoe hoisted herself onto the table, her legs dangling between Finn’s.
“It gets worse. He broke it off, took it pretty hard from what he said. But then a couple of years later, Amber publishes a novel about earth magicians and witches. Not only that, Winston’s in it. She took his whole life story, his relationship with Cam, his problems with his step-dad and used it for the lead character.”
“Ouch!” Then the pieces fell into place and Zoe’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God! It wasn’t Amber Sanchez, was it?”
“Yes. How did you know? Have you read them?”
“No, they weren’t my kind of thing but my sister loved them. They’re pretty cheesy romances from what I’ve heard. All about star-crossed lovers who fate tries to keep apart.”
Finn barked out a short laugh. “Oh, he’d hate that!”
“What kind of person does that? I mean, treats their ex like that? It’s seriously low.”
“Yeah, and it got worse for him. Once the novel was out, there was a huge fuss in the magical community because it was clear someone had talked. She’d got too much stuff spot on for it to be anything else. Winston got hauled before The Order and—”
“Before Jenna’s mum?”
“No, this was before her time. The Order gets re-elected every ten years. Winston held his hands up and confessed but they wouldn’t let him off. I guess it was too public, too much damage had been done. They bound his staff so he couldn’t do magic for six months.”
Zoe’s eyebrows rose. “They can do that?”
“They could. And more. But it screwed him up big time. I met him towards the end of that time. He’d gone travelling, I think keeping moving was the only way he could cope.”
“Oh my God!” It explained so much. The many girlfriends, the whisky consumption, the bad boy swagger; they were all concealing this pain. “Poor Winston.”
“But you can never let on that you know.” Finn stood and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“I won’t. I promise.” She dropped a quick kiss on his nose. “How long ago did all of this happen?”
Finn frowned. “I guess ten. No, maybe eleven years ago.”
“And he split up with Amber a couple of years before that?”
“That’s what he said. Why?”
“Because don’t you think, it’s about time he got over it?” Zoe pushed that stray lock of hair away from Finn’s forehead. “It’s been thirteen years, for God’s sake. He needs to man up and move on.”
Finn raised an eyebrow. “With Jenna?”
“He talks about her all the time. He seems to be spending most of his evenings with her. He’s even been to listen to her play folk music and that’s not his kind of thing at all.”
“That surprised me too.” Finn brushed his lips over hers. “Still, I can’t sit here all day talking about Winston’s love life, I’ve got to figure out how to stop a storm witch.”
“Before you go out, I want you to look at this.” Quickly she walked down the hall to their bedroom. Was it terrible that she really wanted to read the Amber Sanchez books now? She could get Mum to post Mia’s copies. Just so she understood how very bad it’d been for him, of course.
The sketch pad was where she’d left it, on the floor at her side of the bed. As she picked it up the sense of intensity, of a burning need to record what she’d seen in the dream, resurfaced. Pressing the pad against her chest, she returned to the kitchen.
“I’ve a bad feeling about this. It felt really powerful again.” She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Kind of like it did when I was at Anam Cara.”
Moving to stand behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him until they fitted together like two spoons. “You think that means something bad’s coming?”
“Maybe.” Resting her head against his chest, she exhaled. “I don’t know if I’m over-reacting.”
“You’ve got to trust your gift.”
“Do you really think it’s a gift?”
“Of course, and not just because it saved my life. Your visions are remarkable, far clearer than Nina’s and people said she was the best seer for centuries.”
“I wish I could talk to her, Nina, I mean.” She swivelled in his arms and looked up at him. “I feel so damned helpless. Do you think she felt like that? From what you and Winston have said she was so together but I feel like I’m grasping at straws. Even when I have a dream I don’t know what it means. Look how badly wrong I got it with the Cathedral.”
“Nina had been at this a long time. She’d learnt to interpret her visions.”
“And how long did that take?”
“I don’t know but I’m guessing years. Divination takes a lot of practice.”
“Years. Great.” Zoe sighed. “Let’s see how we do with interpreting this one. We can’t get it any more wrong than I did before. I do know it freaked me out as I drew it.”
“Let’s have a look at it.” Finn guided her into the chair. “And then we can decide if we’re going to be freaked out together.”
She flipped through the pages of the sketch pad until she found the right one. Smoothing the other sheets back, she lay the drawing she’d done last night on the table.
“Shit!” Finn said.
***
It was the smell that always hit Rachel first; a pungent mixture of disinfectant and industrial
scale cooking overlaid with synthetic air-freshener. It always brought back the same feelings, ones that twisted in her gut as she passed through the front door. Jake, a lad of about her age with a contorted gait and slack jaw came up to her and said ‘Hello’, the syllables strung out until the word was barely recognisable. He was always the first person to speak to her. She didn’t know anything about him but his name. Had no idea what tragedy had occurred to trap him in a care home fifty years too soon.
Tess, one of the care assistants, her blonde hair swinging in a ponytail, came towards them. Touching Jake on the arm she asked him what he was doing today and then, with a quick glance of a schedule taken from her uniform pocket, sent him towards the kitchen. Turning back to Rachel, she said, “Jake always wants to meet visitors but he’s supposed to be helping with the baking today. Your dad’s in the garden. You know how much he likes it out there. He’s doing well today, one of his better days. I think you’ll find him quite chatty.”
“That’s good.” Following Tess down a lengthy, green-painted corridor Rachel wondered if that was true. Were the days when she could catch a glimpse of the man her dad used to be better than the ones where he was utterly sunk within himself and lost to her? She didn’t know. They both hurt unbearably but the perpetually cheery staff didn’t seem to recognise that.
Stepping into the garden, she fixed a smile and walked over to him. The stroke had bent him, one half of his body now lower than the other. Two years in the home had diminished him further until he seemed only half the person he used to be.
“Hello Dad. How are you today?”
She could see the effort it took him to look up, turn his head and raise a cheek to be kissed. “Not….not…so bad. Better for…seeing you.” The words took an almost painful amount of concentration and seared her heart.
Head down so he wouldn’t see the glisten of tears, she unzipped her rucksack. “That’s grand. Look what I’ve brought you.” She handed him the packet of biscuits and he turned them over and over in his hands trying to discover what they were. The stroke had taken two thirds of his sight. The doctors said what remained was probably blurry and unfocused. With an effort, she kept her tone cheery. “They’re the nice biscuits. The ones you really like. Why don’t I ask Tess to make us a cup of tea and then you can have one?”
***
Jenna struggled through the weekly staff meeting and then with another very strong coffee retreated to the office. She was supposed to be sorting out August’s staff rota but the spreadsheet kept blurring before her tired eyes.
Twirling her pen round her fingers, Jenna’s gaze slid to the window. It was overcast and grey outside. She was pretty sure it’d be raining by the time she did the lunchtime tours. The vibration of her phone against her desk made her jump. The text was from Winston. “You ignoring me?”
Damn it! She’d forgotten all about him. The thought of talking to him, discussing Mum’s last letter felt utterly impossible.
She typed out two words. “I’m working.” Pressed send.
She’d only just refocused on the dratted spreadsheet when the reply came through. “So am I. When’s your lunchbreak?”
Did they really have to do this today? Yes, she’d been desperate to talk to him last night but that was before she spent six hours tossing sleeplessly in her bed. Now all she wanted was to get through to the end of the day, go home and curl up on the sofa with Mansie, a cup of tea and some crappy movie on Netflix.
“I’m covering lunches. I don’t get a break until 2.30. And there’s nowhere we can talk here.”
That must put him off. Tomorrow. She’d handle all of this a lot better tomorrow. After a decent night’s sleep.
Only seconds later, her phone vibrated again. “Meet me at Stones of Stenness at 2.30. Got something to show you.”
No discussion. No ‘can you make it?’ Well, screw him! The last thing she wanted to do in her lunchbreak was get in her car and drive up to the stones. How did he think they were going to have a conversation about a storm witch there? It might be half way between Tormiston Mill and the Ness of Brodgar but it was always crammed with tourists at this time of the year. Swiftly she texted back. “Can’t this wait? I didn’t sleep well and I’m feeling crap.”
Rubbing her eyes, she went to the staff room to make another coffee. Paul found her there with a question about a refund. Once she’d sorted that out and returned to her desk, there were two texts from Winston. The first read, “Need to see you. Zoe’s had a dream. I think I know where it is but I want you to see the picture.” The second, “I’m not being an insensitive arrogant bastard. It’s important.”
Damn him! How had he known that’s was what she was thinking? “Fine. I’ll see you there,” she sent back.
Sipping her coffee, she grabbed the mouse and tried to work out why she’d rotaed Paul to work four weekends in a row. That couldn’t be right. Could it? Again, her mobile cut through her thoughts.
“Want me to text you ten minutes before to make sure you’re not asleep on the desk?”
Cocky bastard! As if she’d ever fallen asleep at work. He might do that kind of thing but she took her job seriously. “Don’t judge me by your standards. Now leave me alone. Some of us have work to do.”
Surely that’d shut him up. Blinking, she looked again at the computer screen.
***
Stepping out of the finds hut, Winston dropped his mobile into the inner pocket of his waterproof and zipped it closed. It was drizzling now. It’d been threatening all morning, clouds hanging low over the surrounding hills, the light grey and flat.
Ducking under the tape that marked off the areas that weren’t open to the public, he moved across the site. His colleagues knelt in various trenches, shoulders bowed, heads protected against the weather, working away at revealing more of the remarkably preserved walls of the Neolithic structures. Around the outskirts of the site was a bank created from bright blue tarpaulin and old tyres which would be used to cover over the dig at the end of the season.
He was working in trench X which ran towards the Loch of Stenness. One of the volunteers had found a decorated stone which appeared to have been reused in a later building. He’d been asked to take over and lift it. He picked up his trowel and gently scraped the earth away from the stone. As his hands worked, his thoughts returned to the picture Zoe had emailed earlier. He’d only seen the photographs in the Highland Living article so he couldn’t be sure.
He’d looked at all of Zoe’s drawings of Orkney before he left for the dig; Nina’s room with the impossible birds, Duncan lying in a pool of blood on the Cathedral floor and this one. There was no pattern, no discernible link between the three.
His phone beeped, vibrating against his chest. Sitting back on his heels, he pulled it out. He grinned. Had work to do, had she? He couldn’t leave it like that. Rain blurring the screen, he hastily typed out a message: “You keep saying that but, admit it, you’d much rather be texting me.”
There’d been a stab of guilt when he’d got the text saying she’d not slept. He could have rung her last night. She would definitely call him an insensitive bastard if she knew he’d not only been up when he got her message but, jittery with the awen whizzing around his system, awake enough to have a very suggestive text exchange with Suzie when he returned to his B&B. After that, he’d slept like a log.
It was easy to guess why she hadn’t. Way too much stuff in those letters. And he’d only seen the first two. From what she’d said last night, the third one packed even more of an emotional punch.
A raindrop slid down the back of his neck and he broke off to turn up the collar of his waterproof. Not the best day for a meeting at the Stones of Stenness. He glanced up to see if there was any chance of the rain stopping. The cloud seemed to be getting lower. You could barely see the other side of the loch now.
His phone beeped again. That hadn’t taken long. The message was very short. “You’re deluding yourself, Dr Grant.”
He laughed, ea
rning himself puzzled looks from the two guys working further up the trench. She was as prickly as a bramble bush this morning. Which was going to make their meeting at lunchtime pretty interesting. But if he kept winding her up there was much less danger of her ending up in tears in his arms again. And it wasn’t like it was a bother. Not at all. Actually it was a lot like fun.
Chapter 25
“You’re late, Miss Henderson!” Winston called as she walked through the gate. He was leaning against the largest of the stones wearing a serious waterproof in a muddy khaki colour which made him look a lot more like an archaeologist. The thin, flat megalith was over twice as tall as him, one of the four stones remaining of the twelve which once formed the circle. His hair was damp, slicked back from his face which made his cheekbones look even more prominent.
Drizzle fell, blurring the edges of everything. The stones felt cocooned within the soft, grey mist.
“Sorry,” Jenna said automatically as she drew closer to him. There’d been a problem with a tour booking which she’d had to sort out before she could leave. She was about to explain and then she stopped herself. “Does that mean you were actually on time?”
A single dark eyebrow rose. “What do you think?”
“Exactly. At least I’ve got a good excuse.” Launching into an explanation of what had gone wrong and what she’d had to do to fix it, she was surprised when he asked a question as if he was genuinely interested. They walked across the diameter of the circle. A few tourists were wandering around the stones. A woman with long grey hair embraced one of them as if it were a long-lost lover.
“Bloody hippy,” Winston muttered as they passed her.
Worried that the woman would have heard him, Jenna smiled vaguely at her but she seemed engrossed in her moment of communion with the megalith. “She’s not doing any harm,” Jenna whispered. “I’d have thought you’d understand.”
His fingers closed around his staff on the leather thong at his throat. “She doesn’t know what she’s messing about with. Awen’s not for amateurs. It’s really strong here and not being able to use it makes me a bit—”
