'There you are, then. It's no place for you to be going. Just make sure you take plenty of warm clothes.'
'Gloves,' Dad intervened, winking at her. 'You'll want gloves.'
'And a hat and scarf, do you think?' Emma asked, tongue in cheek.
He nodded. 'Best to be on the safe side. Fur coat, as well, if you've got one.'
'You two!' Mum said. 'You're as bad as each other. It's all very well making fun of me, but it's likely to be cold – wherever Orkney is!'
*
Now here she was, rummaging through the house as if it were a cross between a crime scene and a museum, trying to make sense of Aunt Freda's life.
Try as she might, though, she was having little success. For one thing, there was a disappointing lack of personal stuff in the house. Hardly any clothes at all, and very few papers. Lots of books, though. But they didn't help much.
She spent a couple of hours going through the rooms more carefully without finding much of interest. The house was so clean and tidy it was as if Aunt Freda had taken everything away with her.
What a silly thought! Emma admonished herself. She straightened up and yawned, feeling a little dispirited. Perhaps it was time she did something else. She was getting nowhere here.
She glanced out of the window and saw that the sun was shining. In fact, it was a very bright day now. The sunlight reflecting off the shimmering wet grass as she gazed towards the sea made a pleasing picture. Was that an island? She peered harder into the distance. She couldn't be sure, but she rather thought it was.
Well, she thought wearily, stifling a yawn, perhaps she should get outside and do a little sightseeing while the weather was so nice. She could call in at the cafe in the village she had noticed. Have a coffee, and see if anyone there had known Aunt Freda. That would be altogether more purposeful than hanging about here like this.
*
But once she was in the car she changed her mind and decided it was time to visit Kirkwall, which was about twenty miles away. The journey would allow her to see a bit more of the island, as well as satisfy her curiosity about the Orkney capital.
Everywhere looked so fresh and green as she drove in a south-easterly direction. No forest or woodland, and virtually no individual trees either. Just beautifully green fields. The land was low-lying, almost level, and she could see for miles across an endless sea of grass. She had assumed she would see lots of sheep grazing, like in Northumberland, but there were very few. Instead, there seemed to be herds of black cattle everywhere.
The landscape was dotted with what she assumed were small farmhouses, mostly modern bungalows. Occasionally, a ruined stone cottage stood nearby, testament to times and a way of life gone by. Big, modern vehicles were parked next to many of the farmhouses : pickup trucks with double cabs, and four-wheel drive monsters. It looked to her as if whatever farming was done here was prosperous.
Then the sea came into view, and soon afterwards the town of Kirkwall, clustered around its harbour. She parked near the harbour in the centre, where the fishing boats were gathered, and wandered up a narrow access lane to the main shopping street, curious to see what was on offer.
Not a lot, she soon decided. Little shops selling ordinary, everyday things. Nothing special at all. But, then, you had to be realistic. Despite Kirkwall's billing as the Orkney capital, it was a small town, about the size of Alnwick, and by the looks of it one without a lot of money. Either that or one without much taste for extravagant expenditure on things that were not really needed.
Still, there were a couple of interesting craft shops, and she spent a few minutes in a very good bookshop that stocked an incredible number of books about Orkney. The islands seemed to be much written about by poets, travellers, historians, and wildlife experts. Finally, at the end of the street, stood a magnificent ancient church built of a deep-red sandstone that was almost the colour of blood : St Magnus Cathedral.
And that seemed to be that. She had done the main street. She paused for a moment, feeling a little flat, wondering what to do next. Coffee, she decided. She had seen a very modern looking Italian-style coffee shop not far away. She would give that a try.
*
It was as she was coming out of the coffee shop that she bumped into Gregor, the friendly young man she had met on the ferry.
'Hello again!' he said, smiling broadly. 'Have you come to see the sights? Grown tired of Birsay already?'
She laughed. 'Gregor! Fancy meeting you again.'
'Och, it's a small world, Orkney. So how are you getting on?'
'Very well, thank you. But I grew tired of looking around the house, and decided to do a little exploring.'
'House? What house?'
'Oh, didn't I tell you why I'm here?' she said, realising why he looked so puzzled. 'I have a house to sell. That's why I came to Orkney.'
'Really?' Gregor looked surprised.
'Is your brother called Alastair, by the way?'
'He is. Have you met him?'
She nodded. 'I think so. A big man who looks a bit like you, and has the same surname. Alastair McEwan?'
'That's him! Was he rude? He usually is.'
'Well .... After he finished telling me how rubbishy the house is, he seemed to be offering to buy it.'
'Good old Ally!' Gregor said, shaking his head in sorrow. 'He's a terrible man for a bargain.'
'That's what I thought at the time. I didn't appreciate his bargaining technique, though, and I very nearly told him so.'
'I hope you don't hold me responsible?' Gregor said anxiously.
She laughed. 'Not at all! I was just surprised. That's all. He's not much like you, is he?'
'So folks say. He's his own man, always has been.'
'Or is it that you are your own man, perhaps?' she asked with a gentle smile.
Gregor grinned. 'Perhaps. Would you like to have a coffee with me?'
'I've just had one, thanks.'
'Well, have another one. Not here, though.'
'No?'
'No. We'll go somewhere more interesting. What do you say?'
'Thank you,' she said with another smile. 'I'd like that.'
Chapter Six
Gregor led the way to a shop across the road from the cathedral. At the front it was full of Orkney knitwear – jumpers and hats, scarves and cardigans. They made their way past them towards the back of the shop, past overflowing shelves of jams and chutneys, books and souvenirs. Fiddle music was playing in the background.
Emma chuckled and whispered, 'Aladdin's Cave!'
'Indeed,' Gregor said, grinning over his shoulder.
The shop was a very long building, and at the back was a restaurant that served local produce and baked goods, home-made cakes and biscuits, full meals even. A woman behind one of the counters was painstakingly icing a cake.
'They make it all here?' Emma asked.
'Most of it, I think.' Gregor pointed to a spare table. 'Sit yourself down. I'll order some coffee. Or perhaps you'd prefer tea?'
'Will it be Orkney coffee?'
'Och, aye!' he said with a grin. 'The real thing. Grown and processed on the islands. And a cake, will it be?''
She shook her head. 'Just coffee, thanks.'
What a nice man he is, she thought happily, as she watched Gregor make his way through the cluttered space to the counter. It's so good to have met him again. I was starting to feel a bit lonely up here on the edge of the world.
*
'They'll bring the coffees over,' Gregor said when he returned.
She nodded. 'This is a really interesting place. They seem to do everything here.'
'Yes, they do. It's been going quite a while, as well. Janet, the owner, is a real Jack-of-all-trades. She even designs some of the Fair Isle sweaters herself.'
'How wonderful. Her stuff must sell, too, if she's been in business here a long time.'
'Yes, I think it does. That's not too surprising. We get lots of
visitors to the islands, and they all want a bit of Orkney to take home with them. Tourists from all over the world – America and Japan, Canada and the Scandinavian countries. Even some from England!'
'So Orkney is on the world map?'
'It is, most definitely.'
She could sense that was true, sitting here in this cluttered, atmospheric little cafe, surrounded by so much Orcadian produce, and so many reminders of Orkney culture and history.
'Now, to business,' Gregor said, leaning forward and frowning. 'Tell me what you're doing here, Emma. It's not really a holiday, is it?'
She shook her head and began to explain. He listened intently, smiling when she told him again of her encounter with Alastair.
'So what will you do with the house?' he asked when she had finished. 'Do you know yet?'
She shook her head again. 'Not really. Not finally, that is. I imagine I'll give instructions for it to be sold eventually, but I'm not ready to do that just yet.'
'Because ...?'
'Well, it's a little difficult to explain,' she admitted with a sheepish smile. 'My head's in a bit of a whirl. I'm still getting used to the idea that I am the owner of this great big deserted house that I had never seen until a couple of days' ago. Until a couple of months' ago I'd never even heard of it.'
'So you want to take your time. Is that it?'
She gave him a rueful smile and said. 'Well, not all of it. That's just part of it.'
'Is the rest something to do with your aunt, perhaps?'
'Yes,' she admitted with surprise. 'Yes, it is. You see, I never met her, and I know next to nothing about her. Nor does anyone in my family. Yet she has left me her house. I would like to know why. I would also like to learn something about her while I'm here. I'm beginning to think she must have been an interesting woman.'
Gregor nodded. Then he said, 'What do you think of the coffee?'
'The coffee?' Puzzled by the change of subject, she frowned and said, 'It's good, very nice.'
'Your aunt liked it, too.'
'My aunt ...?' she said, staring at him with surprise.
'She used to come in here from time to time, when she was shopping in Kirkwall or going about her business.'
'You knew her?'
He nodded.
'Now, Emma, what are you doing this afternoon? Anything planned?'
'Not really. Not at all, in fact.'
'Good. Would you like to come with me, to see some sights? I've got a job to do.'
'Yes,' she said with a smile. 'I'd love to.'
Chapter Seven
They set off in Gregor's Land Rover, which seemed an ideal vehicle for him to have if he really needed all the equipment that was piled in the back.
'Does all that stuff go with you everywhere?' Emma asked, peering around at the mountain of gear.
'Pretty well,' Gregor said. 'I like to be ready to change plan and seize the moment, if the opportunity appears. I might go off to film puffins, but then a pair of humpback whales appear and I want to capture their singing. You just never know.'
'Sound equipment, as well? How fascinating,' Emma said. 'What a wonderful job you have.'
'It's not bad,' he conceded.
'Does somebody employ you, or are you freelance?'
'Employ me?' he said with a chuckle. 'Oh, no! I'm far too unreliable – in some people's eyes, at least. You've got it. I'm freelance.'
'So where are we going now, and what do you have in mind?'
'Stenness. It won't take me more than a few minutes. I just want to check that a time-lapse camera I set up there is working OK.'
'That's a camera that takes photos automatically, isn't it? Every hour or two?'
Gregor nodded. 'I'm watching some mallards with it. As I say, it won't take me long, and it gives me the opportunity to show you an interesting part of the island.'
A guided visit – by an expert? Emma was thrilled. She couldn't have hoped for anything like this.
'How far is it?'
'Stenness? Oh, ten or twelve miles. We'll be there in fifteen minutes.'
Nowhere would be very far, she supposed. That was an advantage of living on a fairly small island. Then she corrected herself. Not so small, actually. The maps she had studied had shown Mainland to be far and away the biggest island in Orkney. Most of the others were tiny, miniscule even, and seldom with more than a few homesteads. Mainland was the only one with towns.
'Do you visit the other islands much?' she asked.
'I do. They all have their attractions for someone like me. Birds or whales, or whatever.'
'And are they all inhabited – by people, I mean?'
'No. Far from it. There are about 70 islands altogether, and 20 have people living on them. There used to be more, but that's how it is now.'
'Are some of those you visit really remote?'
'Very much so. And for someone like me, that's not a bad thing. Wildlife often prefers places without people. Not always, but often enough.'
By then, they had left Kirkwall well behind and were approaching another small town.
'Where's this?'
'Finstown.'
She saw a couple of shops and an art gallery as they drove past, along the edge of the sea, but not much else. It was pretty enough, though, she thought, with wonderful views out to sea
'What do you know of my aunt?' she asked, returning to the question that intrigued her most.
'Not a lot, but I did know her. We spoke when we met. She would ask me about my work, and tell me the latest news about some archaeological dig she had been following.'
'Goodness! At her age?'
'Well .... I suppose she was quite elderly,' he said with a thoughtful frown, 'but I didn't think of her that way. She was always very lively, and interested in all sorts of things. She talked to a good many people, and enjoyed a laugh. Young at heart, I suppose you could say.
'Actually, she was quite a significant person in Orkney, a sort of local celebrity. Lots of people knew her, or knew of her, which is not too surprising. She had lived here many years.'
'Doing what?'
'Oh, she had a keen interest in local history, and Orkney landscapes and wildlife. Everything Orcadian, really. I talked to her and I heard her on the radio occasionally, and I read her books.'
'So she wrote books?'
'Yes. Popular books about local life and customs, history and one thing or another. She made her living as a freelance journalist – a kindred spirit!' he added, with a sideways grin. She was a very busy lady, and seemed to have been so all her life.'
Emma was astonished by these revelations. She shook her head and said, 'I never knew any of that. Nothing at all! Nor did my parents. I'm amazed – and amazed we didn't know.
'She wasn't born here. I knew that much. So somebody in the family must have known her when she was young. But it's as if by coming here she just fell off the family map, and ... and disappeared. I can't believe it.'
Gregor was quiet for a few thoughtful moments. Then he said, 'I wonder if that was what she wanted all along, to distance herself from her family? Or perhaps it just worked out that way? The passage of time created a gulf, maybe?'
They were good questions, Emma thought. She would love to know the answers herself. Perhaps she would be able to discover them during her time here.
*
They slowed and turned on to a smaller road. She saw a huge stone, a rock pillar, twenty feet high, beside the road. There were other, similar stones in a nearby field. And suddenly there was water on both sides of the road, open swathes of water stretching away into the distance that for the moment were perfectly still in a shimmering light. The beauty and sheer unexpectedness of the view was stunning. Emma shivered with delight.
'The Stones of Stenness,' Gregor said. 'We're running along an isthmus now, with the Loch of Stenness on the left-hand side, and the Loch of Harray on the right. It's an important area both archaeologically a
nd for wildlife.'
'Those stones ...?' she began.
'Part of a complex of great spiritual significance developed in the Neolithic age.' Gregor glanced at her and added, 'Five or six thousand years' ago.'
'Really? As old as that? Like Stonehenge?'
He nodded, and added, 'Like it, yes. But twice as old as Stonehenge.'
'I never knew there was anything like that here,' she said, deeply impressed.
Gregor slowed and pointed off to the side. 'Just there, they've been excavating for the past few summers. The archaeologists reckon they've found the remains of the biggest roofed Neolithic building ever discovered in Europe. Some are calling it a Neolithic cathedral.'
They drove on a little way, passing a large group of standing stones arranged in a circle.
'That's the Ring of Brodgar.' Gregor paused before adding, 'Another part of the complex that we still know so little about.'
He turned into a car park that was part hidden by hummocky grassland. 'This is where I needed to come. I've got my camera set up just over there. I'll check it's working OK, and then we can walk up to the stone circle, if you like?'
'Yes, please. I'd love to do that.'
*
The camera was set up to cover a reed patch at the edge of the Loch of Harray. Emma watched for a few moments as Gregor checked it, and then she turned to gaze around at the sparse, lonely landscape. The narrow strip of low-lying and gently undulating grassland, almost a small prairie, stretched away into the distance. It was bracketed by the two lochs, expanses of grey water that had lost their sheen now. A stiff breeze had suddenly appeared to ruffle the surface of the water, and make the tall grasses alongside wave and rustle.
She shivered, but not because she was cold. It was the atmosphere. There was something about this austere and ancient place that touched her deeply, and commanded respect and awe. It was indescribably lonely now, but once there had been people, perhaps many people, toiling here to erect these gaunt monuments. Who were they, and why did they do it? She wondered if anyone would ever know.
*
'Everything all right?' she asked with a smile, when Gregor returned to her side.
Orkney Mystery Page 3
