by Alys West
He held her tighter, his hand cradling her head. She had to tell him the rest but the words wouldn’t come because there was nothing inside but grief. Only grief. She couldn’t hold it back anymore. It was bigger, so much bigger than she was. Winston’s hand stroked her hair, his hand moving from her crown to her neck, again and again. Sobs came and tears fell until she couldn’t cry anymore.
“I’m sorry.” She pulled away, wiped ineffectually at her eyes.
Winston arced an eyebrow. “When are you going to stop apologising for crying on me?”
“Probably never.” She crossed to the workbench and tore off several sheets of kitchen roll. “Where did Finn and Zoe go?”
“Tactful exit.” Winston tilted his head towards the door. “We were working through Nina’s list.”
Jenna dabbed at her face with the kitchen roll. “You’ve told them then?”
“Yes, and they’re in.”
“Really? They didn’t want to think about it?”
“They did. For all of about twelve seconds. Finn looked at Zoe and Zoe looked at Finn and then they both kind of shrugged and that was it. Decision made.”
She leaned back against the worktop. “Rachel was in Mum’s room on the afternoon she died. She heard them, Ewan and the other guy, talk about Mrs S. They said she’d have their balls if they didn’t find the grimoires.”
“Christ! She’s sure about that?”
“I think so. That’s when it got too much so I didn’t probe.”
“Can I probe? I know she doesn’t like me but this is important.”
“I know.” Jenna held her hand out. “So I think you should probe away.”
***
When Jenna returned, the druid came with her. Winston. She had to remember his name even if it didn’t suit him at all. Jenna held his hand. She’d been crying.
Rachel picked at her nails. She wanted this over with and the next part was the hardest to tell. Jenna was never going to forgive her for what she’d done. It’d been stupid to hope she would.
“I know you’re not comfortable around Winston but I really need him to hear this.” Jenna stood beside the chair she’d been sitting in previously. “He’s a lot more objective than I am.”
“That’s okay,” Rachel said although it wasn’t really.
“I’ve been wanting to apologise for what I said when Finn and I came round.” Winston dropped down to sit on the grass. “I was out of order. We were honestly trying to help. I’m sorry that didn’t come over.”
“I’m sorry about the protection spell. I didn’t know it’d do that.”
“Who taught you it?” Winston rubbed his nose and his cheekbones.
“Sarah Parry emailed me the spell. She said it was simple enough even I could do it.”
“Where did you meet her?” Winston asked.
“On the Crystal Goddess site. I asked for help after what happened at Amy’s wedding. She was kind and offered to have me on her mentoring programme.”
“Have you met her? Spoken to her?” Winston said.
“We spoke on the phone. She rang me after I told her about flooding the kitchen. I got a letter from the Council about Dad’s care and I lost it. Not like at the party, it wasn’t that bad but I pretty much destroyed the kitchen.”
“Your dad, is he Paul Sinclair?” Jenna interrupted. “From the Orkney Yoles?”
Rachel didn’t trust her voice. She nodded.
“I was really sorry to hear about what happened,” Jenna said. “It’s cruel, really cruel. He’s such a nice man.”
At least Jenna spoke about him in the present tense. So many folk used the past tense as if he wasn’t ill but dead.
“What happened?” Winston looked between the two of them. “You’re talking Orkney code.”
Jenna’s gaze met Rachel’s and there was a question in it. “Eighteen months ago, my dad had a stroke. He was fifty-two.”
“Christ!” Winston stared at her for a long moment. “That’s fucking terrible.”
“Dad’s been in a specialist home in Wick ever since. I found out a couple of weeks ago that the Council are pulling the funding and he’s got to move to a care home in Orkney.”
“But we’re going to see what we can do about that.” Grace’s hand settled on Rachel’s. “And if that doesn’t work, I’m going to speak to Edward Penbury.”
“Eve’s husband?” Jenna said. “Isn’t he a solicitor?”
“Yes, pet, he is. And he owes me a favour.”
Rachel wasn’t sure it was right to get a lawyer involved. She’d got more faith in Grace’s magic being able to change the Council’s mind.
“So you spoke to Sarah on the phone?” Winston said, pulling her back to why she’d started telling them about Dad. “Do you remember anything about what she said, how she spoke?”
Rachel looked at her hands. Sarah had been good to her. Or at least she thought she had. Now Grace was teaching her, it felt like there was something that wasn’t right about Sarah’s approach. “Why?”
“Because we don’t know who she is,” Winston said. “The magical community is pretty small. Everyone’s known to somebody. It’s just the way it works.”
“Like Orkney?” Rachel screwed her eyes up as a cloud shifted to reveal the sun.
“Exactly like Orkney.” Jenna put heavy emphasis on the first word.
“But I’ve asked around and no one knows Sarah,” Winston said.
“What? But that can’t be.” Rachel pulled her ring over the knuckle and back. “She knew Nina.”
“She did?” Grace said. “You’re sure.”
Rachel hesitated. Should she reveal more? It felt like betraying Sarah but what loyalty did she really owe her? Sarah had been there for her when no else had but it’d come at a price. Not in money, she’d been really good about that but in pushing and questioning and making Rachel feel she wasn’t trusted. She wasn’t like with Grace who understood when no one else did. Rachel’s chin came up. She’d had enough of folk letting her down. It was time to know the truth.
“I’m sure,” she said. “I got the feeling she didn’t like Nina very much.”
Jenna leaned forwards. “What did she say?”
“It was more what she didn’t say.” Rachel frowned. “I know I don’t know anyone in your magical community so I don’t—”
“It’s your community too,” Grace said. “You’re part of it.”
Rachel shook her head. It’d never felt like that. Not at Nina’s funeral or sitting here with a spellworker and a druid. She felt like the outsider. She always had.
“I guess what I mean is that everyone I’ve ever talked to about Nina has something good to say about her whether they knew about her magic or not. Sarah didn’t.”
Jenna’s foot crept out and settled next to Winston’s leg. “I knew I didn’t like her.”
“Anything else?” Winston’s hand moved backwards until it brushed Jenna’s leg. “How did she speak? She lives in the Lake District. Did she have a northern accent?”
She understood why Jenna wanted him here. He was good at questions. Maybe too good.
“I’m not good with English accents but I thought she sounded like Cilla Black.”
“You’re sure?” Winston sat up straighter, his gaze on hers.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Winston nodded. She felt like she’d told him something important although she couldn’t see why. “On the afternoon Nina died, you were hiding in the dispensary and you heard the men talking. Are you sure you heard them talking about Mrs S?”
Rachel’s fingers twisted her ring again. She knew this was the important bit. And now she knew Felicity was a spellworker it was obvious that she should have spoken about it sooner. “Yes. I kept a journal back then. Nina got me to do it. It was supposed to be about magic but I wrote about everything that happened. I got it out last week, before I brought the folder round for Jenna, and read what I’d written. It’s all in there.”
“And what happened after
that?” Winston asked.
This was the bit she was dreading. Grace’s hand reached for hers and held it tight. “The men started shifting the furniture around in Nina’s room. That’s when I lost it. Like I did at the Stewarts’.”
The colour faded from Jenna’s face. “That was you?”
“Yes, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop it. I was so scared.”
“Oh my God!” Jenna’s hand rose to cover her mouth.
“What?” Winston looked between them. “You’re doing it again.”
“It was like what happened at the Stewarts’. Wind, water. The men thought it was some trap left by Nina.”
“Oh!” Winston drew the word out.
“Did they leave?” Jenna asked.
“Not straight away. I don’t know what made them go in the end. I heard the door slam but I didn’t believe they’d gone. It was ages before I could bring myself to move to check.”
“And by then the place was completely trashed.” Jenna looked skywards for a second. “I’m beginning to see why you weren’t keen to tell me.”
“I heard folk saying there’d been a break-in on the day Nina died and how shocking it was that you had to cope with that as well.” Rachel looked down at her hands. “I felt terrible. And I’d somehow brought Nina’s book home with me. I don’t remember why I didn’t put it back. I guess I just ran.”
“But if you hadn’t been there,” Grace said, “Ewan would probably have found Nina’s grimoires.”
“But if I’d told you sooner you’d have known about Felicity and you could have stopped her,” Rachel said, the words falling over each other. “That bit’s my fault because I was scared and stupid and—”
“No, don’t do that,” Jenna said. “Half an hour ago I was ready to blame you. Hell, I did blame you. Ask Winston, his t-shirt’s still wet from all the crying I did. But that wasn’t fair. You tried to get The Spiral Path back to me. If I’d returned your call then perhaps you’d have told me what happened but don’t blame yourself for being scared. Ewan scared the hell out of me—”
“But you fought back. Grace told me about the witch bottle and the birds.”
“Have you considered that you did too?” Winston said. “Only you fight with wind and water?”
“But I can’t control it. It takes over and there’s nothing I can do.”
“You can’t control it yet,” Grace said. “But you will. It’s going to take a little time and an awful lot of work.”
“You blasted your way through Felicity’s spell,” Winston said. “I’d say that took some control.”
“I don’t know. I only did what Grace told me.”
“You did a lot more than that, pet. I couldn’t have broken that spell without time, ingredients and equipment. You didn’t need any of that. You’ve got a special talent. That’s what Nina thought, and I agree with her. You need to start believing it too.”
It was too much. For so long she’d thought of her abilities as a curse not a gift. She didn’t know how to be the person Grace thought she was. Grace gave her a swift smile and then reached for her stick.
“Anyone else need more tea?” Grace pushed herself up to standing. “I made some scones. They’re not up to Graeme’s standards but they’ll fill a hole.”
Rachel opened her mouth to say yes and then Jenna caught her gaze with the tiniest shake of her head.
“Just tea, thanks.” Jenna said.
“Erm…same for me.”
Jenna dispatched Winston after Grace with a significant look towards the bungalow. When they were out of earshot, Jenna stepped towards her.
“Good call. Grace’s scones are closely related to cement.”
Rachel giggled. It was such an unexpected thing for Jenna to say. She always seemed so consistently nice.
“Grace’ll take care of you.” Jenna glanced at Rachel before looking away. “If you’ll let her.”
“I know. I want to. It’s just not that easy.”
“Don’t I know it.” Jenna laughed but there was no humour there. “Look, if you’d like then Mum’s through the gate.” She pointed across the garden. A small wicket gate was set into the fence. Beyond it were only waves. Rachel had thought at the funeral that it was the perfect place. Nina belonged with the sea. “Don’t feel you have to, I just thought…”
“No, I want to. There’s been lots of times I’ve wanted to but I didn’t feel …” Rachel took a step away and then turned. “Thanks,” she added. It wasn’t enough but she didn’t know what else to say.
“Take as long as you need.” Jenna stuck her hands in her jeans pockets. “I’ll keep your tea warm.”
Rachel waited as Jenna walked away, head bowed, her gaze fixed on her feet. Then she crossed the garden, pushed open the gate and stepped onto the rough grass. The headstone was flat, set into the earth. It had Nina’s name on it but instead of dates there was a carving of two hands holding a bundle of herbs. She was rubbish with magical plants but even she could recognise sage, lavender and rosemary.
It was so Nina. Always the herbalist. Even her gravestone was a prescription for healing grief. Tears prickled and she bit her lip as she turned into the wind. She couldn’t cry here but she would later. It was time to let go and start over. She kneeled down and rested one hand on the stone. Then she began to talk and the wind carried her words out over the bay.
Chapter 59
“Do you think they’ll come?” Jenna glanced again towards the steps which led up to the car park at the Point of Buckquoy.
“You know Rachel’s coming.” Kneeling in the dry sand, Winston placed large stones around the fire he was building. “As for Hal, that’s anybody’s guess.”
“I know.” Jenna lit a nightlight and slid it into a jam jar. “He never even spoke to me at the funeral. I know Cassie was with him but still…”
“To be fair to the Viking, you were fairly constantly surrounded.”
The funeral had been on Wednesday. A simple ceremony followed by Graeme’s burial in a grave next to Nina’s. It’d rained throughout; a slow, steady downpour but that hadn’t stopped people coming. He’d no idea who most of them were but, from the conversations he’d had over cups of lukewarm tea, Graeme had been respected and well-liked by his friends and neighbours. Jenna had handled the day with a grace and poise he’d not expected. Only when everyone had gone had the tears come. She’d locked herself in Nina’s room and it’d taken a lot of restraint to leave her to grieve in her own way and her own time.
Jenna placed the lighted jam jar in the sand. “You’ve got to stop calling him the Viking.”
“Aye, well, if he comes tonight then I’ll think about it.” From what Grace had said, Hal had gone above and beyond to help Rachel at the Stewarts’, and for that, Winston was prepared to give him a second chance. So long as he didn’t let Jenna down. This evening was important to her, more than the funeral in many respects. If the Viking didn’t turn up or didn’t play nice then all bets were off.
“There’s Finn.” Jenna pointed over Winston’s head. “I’ll go and see if Grace and Zoe are coming down the slipway.”
“Leave me the matches.” Winston put his hand out and let his fingers linger as they closed around hers. She dropped a quick kiss on his lips before heading over the sand. Winston struck a match and, shielding it with his other hand, lit the kindling. Fire flared as the wood caught.
“Everything ready?” Finn asked as he joined him.
Winston stood and dusted sand from his jeans. “It’d better be. Jenna’s as jumpy as a box of frogs.”
“Do you think they’ll come?”
“Don’t you bloody well start.” Winston stuck his hands in his pockets. “That’s all Jenna’s said for the past half-hour.”
“Winding you up, is she?” Finn slapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome to long-term relationships, my friend.”
“I have had one before.”
“Yeah, but so long ago you’ll have forgotten.” Finn nudged him with his elbow. “Anyway, i
t’s about bloody time. What are you now? Forty?”
“Thirty-seven. But seeing as you missed my last birthday, I’ll forgive you.”
Finn’s face stilled and Winston wished he could call the words back. For a long moment they both stared at the fire. Then Finn said, “Do you think it’s all connected? Felicity, Maeve, the deaths of The Order?”
“From what we know of Maeve, she’s always seemed more of an opportunist than part of something bigger but right now, I honestly don’t know. I guess that’s what we need to find out. You having second thoughts?”
If Finn wanted out that was fine. Winston would even try not to take the piss because what they were planning was bound to bring his friend face to face with things he’d every reason to want to forget.
“No.” Finn rubbed his jaw. “Well, not often.”
“I wish Jenna was.” Winston shoved his hands in his pockets. “But she’s adamant. I can’t shift her.”
He’d tried again to talk her out of it but it hadn’t done any good. She was more stubborn than he’d realised. Yet part of him understood what was driving her, why she needed to know what had torn her life apart and robbed her of both parents.
A shout made him turn to look along the beach. Each holding one of Grace’s arms, Jenna and Zoe were helping her keep her footing in the sand. Behind them, Birsay was producing another of its spectacular sunsets with an Impressionistic wash of pinks and golds.
He’d miss the sunsets when they left. It was the one part of the arse end of nowhere he’d actually grown to like.
***
Hal swung his guitar case out of the boot of the car. It was a nice evening for it, whatever it turned out to be. Jenna’s text had been pretty vague. A celebration of the lives of Nina and Graeme was all she’d said. He’d thought that was what funerals were for. He’d nearly rung and told her he couldn’t come especially as she hadn’t invited Cassie. She’d come to the funeral with him and it’d been harder than he’d anticipated to pretend he and Jenna were only friends.
