by Alys West
He moved to sit on the bed beside her. She pulled her legs up, curling into a tight ball against the headboard. Hastily, he straightened his knees, aborting the action. Panic was written over her face. Her pupils were dilated until they almost obscured the blue.
“Why can’t I be here, Jenna?” He said her name as gently as he had last night. He hoped it’d trigger a memory, a thread back to the connection they’d shared.
She shook her head again. “You have to go.”
With an effort he kept his tone even. “I brought you tea.”
She turned her head to look. For a second when her gaze returned to him, he thought he’d got through to her. Then she pulled the duvet closer. “You have to go.”
He held his hands up. “Why, Jenna? Why do I have to go?” If he got her to talk, to explain why she was reacting in this way would it provide a clue as to who had done this to her?
“You can’t be here. I can’t see you.”
He took a step forward. “Why can’t you see me?”
She was watching him as if he were poisonous or dangerous or both. “I just can’t.”
He took another step. “Why? You were happy to see me last night. We had fun, remember?”
“No!” She scrabbled backwards over the bed, putting as much distance as possible between them.
He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t be the person, however unintentionally, who was making her feel this fear. He stepped back. “Alright. If you tell me why I have to go then I’ll go.”
Pulling the duvet with her, wrapping it inexpertly around her naked body, she climbed off the far side of the bed. “You can’t be here.”
Back to where they’d started. He tried once more. “Who says I can’t be here?”
She frowned as if the question confused her. Then she shook her head again. “I do, of course.” She sounded as stubborn as a six-year old.
“Why, Jenna?”
“Because you can’t.” The words came out on the edge of a shriek. “Just go!”
“Alright.” He backed out of the room, hands held up in front of him. In the sitting room, he slung on his jacket. As he reached the front door he tried again. “I’ll ring you later, okay? To see how you are.”
“No. Don’t.”
He took one last look at her. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks too bright, her lips reddened from where they’d kissed last night. Even with the strange dark eyes, she was beautiful and he’d lost her. He flung open the door and stepped out onto the steps. The door banged shut. Drizzle fell around him.
Chapter 38
Hal’s mobile rang as he was walking down Helliehole Road on the way to work. Seeing Jenna’s name on the screen he hesitated. Was she angry with him about last night? They’d been planning to sing Farewell to Stromness during the session but, at the last minute, he’d fluffed it and ducked out. Jenna, being the pro she was, had seamlessly filled in and sung She Moves Through the Fair unaccompanied, weaving a spell with her voice that’d charmed the audience into silence.
He pressed the screen and greeted her as cheerily as possible.
“Are you free on Sunday?” She sounded a bit off, her voice a little mechanical as if she was concentrating too hard before she spoke. “Uncle Andrew’s asked us to play a few tunes at his party on Sunday. He’s not paying us but there’ll be food and a free bar.”
“Sure.”
“I think it’ll be a good opportunity to try out our set.”
“You don’t need to convince me. I’m in.” Joining Alfred Street, he caught glimpses of the voe down the slipways between the buildings. The drizzle had turned everything grey this morning: the houses, the water, the sky. “You had me at free bar.”
It wasn’t his best line but he’d thought she’d laugh. She didn’t.
“I think we need to fit in another rehearsal before Sunday,” she said.
So this was about last night. He should have known. She was just too nice to tackle it head on. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened at the session. I had a brain freeze or—”
“Don’t worry about it. Can you come round tomorrow evening?”
“Alright, it’s a date.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he winced.
“We can sort out the set list then. About eight alright for you?”
She’d not reacted to his ‘date’ comment. Not even a hesitation. “Sure. Are you alright? You sound a bit distant.”
“Fine. Got a lot to do. I’ve changed my mind about the flat in Edinburgh. I’m going to take it.”
“What? But you said—”
“I know but I was being stupid. It’s a great offer. I need to go for it.”
“Have you told your dad?”
“Uncle Andrew said he’d tell him.”
Hal stopped. “You’re letting your uncle tell your dad you’re leaving? Jenna, that’s not—”
“It’ll be fine. Dad said it was time I got on with my life. That’s what I’m doing.”
“But—”
“Got to go. Need to get to work. See you tomorrow.”
The line went dead. Hal stared at the screen as it faded to black. Should he ring her back? Try to talk some sense into her? What the hell had happened since last night to change her mind?
Winston. He must have slept with her and dumped her and she was running away. That had to be it. Which meant he was going to have words with Archaeology Boy. Words that would wipe the grin off the smug git’s face.
***
“I’ll give you a crime reference number and we’ll keep it on file but as they didn’t take anything, there’s not much else I can do.” PC MacGregor was no more than a year or two older than Rachel and spoke with the soft accent of the Highlands. “It’s a weird one though. It’s beyond me how they got the lock out in one piece like this. The mechanism’s not even broken.”
Rachel looked at her hand as she twisted her ring around her finger. She’d got an idea how they’d done it, whoever they were, but it wasn’t one she could share with PC MacGregor or any of his colleagues. “Thanks for coming out.” She gestured with the card he’d given her with the crime reference number on it. “I’ll give the insurance company a ring and see about getting a new door.”
“Is there somewhere you can stay until it’s fitted? You shouldn’t be here on your own. It’s not safe.”
She wanted to say, ‘You think?’ but that’d be rude and he was doing his best. It wasn’t his fault this was something completely beyond his understanding.
It was only exhaustion which had stopped her losing it completely when she got back last night. She was so tired after her shift on the ferry and five hours behind the bar she could hardly think. Finding a broken door, a bust lock was more than she could process at that time of night. She’d simply pushed the hall table in front of it and fallen into bed. But in the early hours, once the initial exhaustion was gone, the nightmares she’d had after Nina’s death had chased her back to consciousness. What if the same men were looking for her? What if they knew she’d got Nina’s book and wanted it back? In the end she’d brought duvet and pillow downstairs, piled as much furniture as she could move in front of the door and curled up on the sofa watching TV until it was time to call work pretending to be sick.
After that she’d rung the police station and spent the time before they arrived checking nothing valuable had been taken. She was pretty sure whoever had broken in had been through her stuff. Nothing was exactly as she’d left it, especially in her bedroom where the papers on her desk were suspiciously tidy but nothing seemed to be actually missing. They probably discovered she didn’t have much worth stealing.
Or possibly they hadn’t broken in to steal anything the police considered valuable. Only Nina’s book was still there, tucked into the bookcase in her bedroom and, as she’d checked at least four times, apparently untouched. Which meant her nightmares were only that. The men who’d broken into Nina’s room had been anything but inefficient. They’d gone through her things with a single-mind
ed ruthlessness until…
But she couldn’t think about that. She blinked and forced a smile for the policeman. “I’m pretty sure the Sutherlands next door will let me stay if I ask.” She didn’t want to ask. She was surprised Mrs Sutherland hadn’t been round already. She’d be devastated she’d missed a break-in next door. “Or I work at The Commercial, they might have a room I could have.”
PC MacGregor handed her a card with his details on. “If you find after I’ve gone, that anything’s been taken then you can give me a ring on this number.”
“Okay, thanks.”
He smiled a little awkwardly, replaced his hat and walked up the path. Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel saw a net curtain twitch next door. She’d got five minutes before Mrs Sutherland was round wanting to know all of the details. Pulling her mobile out of her pocket, she took four quick photos of the cracked door, the unbroken lock and the hole where it’d been. She attached them to an email, typed out a quick message and sent them to Sarah.
She needed to know if her suspicions were correct. Only she didn’t know what she’d do if they were. A new door wouldn’t protect her from that kind of threat. She had to hope Sarah could suggest other ways to keep her safe.
***
By lunchtime Winston couldn’t take it any longer. He’d tried calling. More times than he wanted to admit. He never acted like this. He didn’t ring, especially not after a first night. He waited, let the woman in question call him. But this was Jenna and all of his rules had gone out of the window. Because he cared. If he’d not known that before, he did when she’d thrown him out this morning. Someone was controlling her. It was the only explanation. He’d had women go cold on him before but he’d never seen fear on a face and known it was directed at him.
It hurt. He wanted to pound whoever had done this to her into a pulp. Which he would. When he found them.
Back at his B&B he’d showered, changed and, as he’d picked at his breakfast, searched for everything he could find on Sarah Parry. There wasn’t much. As well as Twitter, there was an Instagram account with a serious overuse of the ‘Witches of Instagram’ hashtag and endless pictures of her altar, spell preparation and her dogs. There were no pictures of Sarah herself. Was that significant or was she simply averse to selfies? He couldn’t blame her if it was the latter. But, in even suspecting the former, was he guilty of leaping to conclusions? He’d nothing to link Sarah to the spell on Jenna except that she was helping Rachel. But why did Rachel want Jenna to stay away from him? She didn’t know he existed. Unless the spell was designed to keep Jenna away from anyone with magic. Only it hadn’t felt like that. When she’d woken up, when she’d thrown him out, it’d felt personal. Very personal indeed.
“Dr Grant? Are you okay?” A hand landed on his arm. He looked up to see one of the volunteers, a pretty local girl in her mid-twenties. “Only I asked twice and you didn’t seem to hear me.”
“Yes, fine.” Releasing the death grip he’d had on his trowel, he flexed his fingers. “Did you want me?”
“Maggie asked me to get you. We’ve found a stone in trench eight that we want you to have a look at. We think it might be important.”
Stepping out of the trench he’d been pretending to work in, Winston said, “Sure.” He followed her across the site, mechanically went through the motions of examining the stone in question and then handed over to one of his colleagues to photograph it in situ before they lifted it.
Then he walked over to the site office, swapped his waterproof for his leather jacket and went to his bike. He couldn’t hold back the speed, couldn’t stop himself from twisting the throttle, from whipping past every car in his way. Knee dangerously close to the tarmac, he swung into the car park at Tormiston Mill and cut the engine.
With his helmet in his hand, he pushed the door open. The visitors’ centre was busy, full of tourists waiting for their tour of Maeshowe or spending money in the gift shop before they left. He accosted the first person he saw in Historic Scotland uniform, the same stringy lad he’d met before, and asked to see Jenna. The lad told him to wait and disappeared behind a door marked private. At least, that meant she was here. In his worst moments, he’d imagined her too ill to leave her flat. Pacing between a display on Neolithic tools and a bookcase filled with tomes on Orkney’s past, Winston checked the time on his mobile six times before the boy returned.
“I’m sorry. She said she’s too busy to see you.”
It wasn’t a surprise but that didn’t make it feel any less like a kick in the balls. He tried to smile at the lad. “Never mind. I’ll see her another time.”
“She asked me to tell you that she’s handing the project she’s working on with you to Megan and that Megan will be in touch once Jenna’s gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
The boy swallowed, his Adam’s apple painfully visible at the top of his white shirt. “Has she not told you? I thought that’s why you’d come.”
“Not told me what?” But he had a terrible feeling he already knew.
“Jenna’s leaving. She handed in her notice this morning. Said she’s got an opportunity to go back to Edinburgh and it’s too good to miss.”
“She is not!” Shoving the lad out of the way, he strode to the door to the offices and tugged on the handle. It didn’t move. Winston registered the keycode lock a second before the lad seized his arm.
“Dr Grant! Please!”
“What’s the code for this thing?”
“No. I can’t do that.” The boy’s grip tightened on his arm.
“Let me through. I only want to talk to her.” Winston’s hand went to his staff. He pulled it from the thong at his neck. If he blasted his way through this door, he’d be in her office in two seconds.
“Is everything alright, Paul?” A woman called from across the room.
“Yes, fine. Dr Grant was leaving.” Paul’s voice was loud enough to carry to his colleague and then dropped so only Winston could hear him. “Please, Dr Grant. We’re all upset and we’re all going to miss her but don’t make me tell her you were totally out of order about it.”
Winston stepped back and glanced at the lad. If he did get through the door, then what next? The spell continued to hold her. Talking to her wasn’t going to go any better than it had this morning. Except now he knew who’d done this to her. If he was going to blast anyone then it had to be him. Winston’s hand fell back to his side as he nodded.
Paul began walking towards the front door, clearly hoping Winston would follow. “I don’t know how we’re going to manage without her,” he said. “She’s leaving at the end of next week. God knows how she pulled that off because she’s supposed to give two months’ notice.”
“Someone pulled a few strings.” Winston managed a curt nod as he headed towards the exit. “It all depends on who you know.”
***
The reply came from Sarah not long after Mrs Sutherland finally left, after assuring Rachel she was welcome to stay in their spare room for as long as she liked. Rachel had immediately rung Debbie because if you wanted something doing in a hurry Debbie would know who to call. While waiting for Debbie to ring her back, the email from Sarah popped up on her mobile.
Rachel,
Sorry to hear about your break-in. How distressing for you especially after everything you’ve been through with your house recently. I can’t tell from the photos you sent if the intruder used magic to break in. Is there a reason you suspect it? As you’re unknown to the magical community and living in Orkney which, since Nina’s death is hardly a hotbed of Pagan activity, I can’t help wondering if there’s something else you’ve not told me which has led you to this conclusion. Can you please reassure me on this as I thought we’d put all of that behind us when we had our phone chat last week?
Attached are instructions for a protection spell that you’ll have no trouble doing. It will deter both intruders who have magic and common or garden burglars. Let me know how you get on with it. I’m also waiting t
o hear how you’re progressing with the air and water spells I sent you. I know it seems like a long time until Mabon but you’re very behind the others and have a lot of catching up to do.
Bright Blessings,
Sarah
She shouldn’t have sent the email. It was stupid. Why hadn’t she foreseen the questions it’d raise? Despite the invitation to Yorkshire, Sarah didn’t completely trust her. That much was obvious. She’d kept something from her once and, because of that, Sarah suspected her of doing it again.
And she was right. There was something she’d not told her, something she’d not spoken of to anyone. Could she tell Sarah what’d happened at Nina’s? Would she understand how terrified Rachel had been and how she’d not meant any of it to happen. She wasn’t sure. Perhaps when she got to Yorkshire and had met Sarah face to face but not on email.
Until then she was on her own with this. Again. She missed Nina so much. She’d have known what to do about the door. She’d have come round and put protection spells in place for her so she felt safe again. She’d not have poked snide questions at her when she was feeling fragile.
Tears prickled behind her eyes but she couldn’t give in to the emotions. That only led to disaster.
Walking through to the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea. Picking up the pile of quotations she’d received for the repair work, she took them back to the sitting room and sat on the sofa. This was something she could do. It’d keep her mind off the damned door.
Underneath an estimate from the plasterer was Jenna’s note. She read it again. Would Jenna understand? Was it worth giving her a call? Even meeting for a chat?
Her mobile rang and she snatched it up. It was Debbie with the name of a joiner in Evie who might be able to fit a new door today.
***
Winston braked sharply as he reached the top of the drive. Parked next to the house were a Range Rover and a red BMW convertible together with a white transit van with the name ‘Top Cat Catering’ painted on the side. This had got to be the right house. It’d been harder to find than he’d anticipated even after he’d located the address online. But if the cars didn’t give it away — who else would drive a Range Rover in that eye-wateringly awful colour — then the catering company did.
