That was too much!
'I don't know what you're talking about,' she said sharply. 'But it might be better to keep your advice to yourself, thank you very much. I really don't need to hear any more of it.'
'Suit yourself, lassie,' he said, turning away. 'But don't say you've not been warned.'
What an annoying man! she thought unhappily as she turned the ignition to start the engine.
*
Even so, once she had calmed down she wondered if she might have displayed her interest in Gregor too obviously. She didn't really think so, and nothing had happened between them anyway. But perhaps she ought to be more careful. She didn't want to start any more tongues wagging. Alastair's was bad enough.
In any case, if Gregor had ever indicated any interest at all in her as a person of the female variety she might well have responded appropriately, but he hadn't. That was the top and bottom of it, she thought ruefully. He simply wasn't interested in her as a woman. And she had done and said nothing to provoke such an interest anyway. They were simply two friendly people who were trying to find answers to a mystery that had intrigued them both. That was all, unfortunately.
She shook her head and got on with a task she needed to do before she left at the end of the week. That was arranging an appointment with a solicitor in Kirkwall to discuss what needed doing about Broch House if and when she put it up for sale. That was still her aim, but it was one without a timetable attaching to it as yet.
She was in no hurry now, she reflected. She was reconciled to that. Freda deserved a little more consideration from the family that had lost touch with her, even though she had not forgotten them. If that meant returning to Orkney to deal with unfinished business, well, so be it.
Chapter Thirteen
Almost before she knew it, Friday came round and it was time for her to start the journey home. She left the guesthouse soon after breakfast, quite sad to be going, and headed into Kirkwall. The ferry wouldn't leave from Stromness until later that day. So there was time to kill, and she thought she would spend some of it in the Orkney capital. A last look around. Part of her even hoped she might bump into Gregor again, although the chances didn't seem good.
They had exchanged phone numbers during their last meeting, but she didn't want to call him to say goodbye again when they had already done that in person. She was mindful of how it might look, and didn't want to risk him regarding her as too pushy.
So far as she knew, anyway, it could be a girlfriend who picked up the phone, and she didn't want that either. He had said that there wasn't a wife waiting at home for him, but he wore a wedding ring, and a man like Gregor was bound to have a female somewhere in his life. After all, even his objectionable brother had one!
She parked near the harbour for the last time and wandered again up the lane that led into the town centre, stopping on the way for a coffee and to browse in a bookshop. Buying souvenirs and gifts had been a long way from her mind but she couldn't return home empty-handed. She had to find something to take back with her.
She grew bored with her search and settled for a beautiful book of photographs of the islands for her parents. That would have to do, she decided. Her friends were going to have to do without this time. They would no doubt be returning from Greece fully laden with presents for her and everyone else, but they would understand. She had had too much on her mind this hectic week.
After that, she decided to have a look around St Magnus Cathedral, the handsome building right in the centre of the town. It was built of a lovely red sandstone, but unfortunately the stone was soft and very vulnerable to Orkney weathering. So the information panels said. Emma guessed that fund-raising to repair the church was pretty much a non-stop process. All the same, it had stood proudly in the centre of Kirkwall for a thousand years, and looked good for plenty more yet.
In origin, she read from a leaflet, the cathedral was a Norse church dating from a time when both Orkney and Shetland had belonged to Norway. Illustrative wall panels and memorials, even the grave of an earl, brought that history home to her as she explored the austere but atmospheric interior. There was even a copy of the Bible in the Old Norse language open for inspection.
In an under-stated way, the cathedral was very impressive, prompting the thought that before she came here again – which she surely would – she would try to do some reading on Orkney history. She had seen so many historic sites and interesting places in the past week. Yet she knew so little about them, and how they all fitted into the islands' long story. But the brief visit had served to capture her imagination.
Besides, she thought with a rueful smile as she headed out into a thin, watery sunlight, I must have seemed incredibly ignorant to Gregor. I don't want to be in that position still, if I should ever happen to meet him again.
*
She paused for a moment to get used to the light. That was when she saw a vaguely familiar face passing by. She stared. The figure paused and looked back. Then recognition dawned. It was Gregor's mother, the old lady she had spoken to on the ferry a week earlier.
'Hello, Mrs McEwan!' she called, giving her a little wave. 'Remember me?'
'Of course!' Mrs McEwan laughed. 'I thought I knew you from somewhere. You were on the ferry from Scrabster, weren't you?'
'That's me.'
'Are you enjoying your holiday?'
'Very much, but sadly it's almost over. I'll be leaving on the ferry this afternoon.'
'So soon? That's a pity. But you have enjoyed your visit?'
'Oh, yes. It's been a very busy and interesting week, Mrs McEwan. I've seen your son, Gregor, once or twice, as well. Actually, I've seen both your sons! Alaister lives near where I was staying.'
'Oh, you've been in Birsay, have you?'
'That's right. I even visited the Brough of Birsay one day. It was lovely.'
'Yes, it is. Wild and rugged, but a lovely place. I'm pleased you got there.'
The old lady turned as another woman, this one about Emma's age, bustled up to them.
'Here you are, Jennifer! Let me introduce you to someone I met on the ferry last week, and who now unfortunately is leaving us. Jennifer is my daughter,' she added with a smile at Emma.
'Hello! I'm Emma Mason.'
'Jennifer Gregg,' the other woman said with a friendly smile.
They shook hands.
'We planned to have coffee together,' Mrs McEwan said. 'Would you care to join us, Emma?'
She was uncertain for a moment.
'You would be most welcome,' Jennifer assured her.
'Well, in that case, thank you. I would love to join you. I've got plenty of time before the ferry leaves this afternoon.'
'Oh, any amount!' Mrs McEwan said firmly. 'There's no hurry at all.'
*
They headed for the shop and restaurant Emma had been to once before with Gregor. They had a friendly conversation there about life in Orkney, and somehow coffee became lunch. Neither of the other women was in a hurry, Emma soon realised. Nor was she, actually. Fresh quiche and salad went down very nicely, and was followed by tea they shared from an especially large teapot.
'You see, Jennifer, I can tell Emma is feeling at home with us already,' Mrs McLeod confided to her daughter. 'She likes the pace of life here.'
'Oh, Mother!' Jennifer said, laughing. 'Don't be such a terrible tease. The poor girl has a long wait for the ferry, that's all. What else could she do, poor thing?'
Emma smiled at the good-natured banter. 'Actually, I have enjoyed my time here. It's been lovely.'
'Will you come again?' Jennifer asked. 'That's always the test.'
'Oh, yes! Certainly. In a few weeks' time, probably.'
She went on to explain that she had her aunt's house to sort out, or to do something about. So she needed to return for that, if for no other reason.
'I haven't managed to accomplish as much as I had hoped this week,' she concluded.
'It will take s
ome sorting, I'm sure,' Jennifer conceded. 'Especially if you've been trying to do it on your own.'
'Well, yes.' She hesitated. 'Actually, I haven't been entirely alone. Your brother, Gregor, has been helping me a bit. We met on the ferry,' she added, seeing Jennifer's surprise.
'Oh, good,' Jennifer said.
'Gregor hasn't told me,' Mrs McLeod said, also seeming surprised. 'But, then, I don't know three-quarters of the folk he helps. He's very good that way.'
'He certainly is,' Emma agreed. 'Apart from anything else, he's been able to tell me so much about my aunt, who I never met.'
'How strange,' Jennifer said thoughtfully. 'Then why did she leave you the house?'
Emma shook her head. 'I wish I could tell you,' she admitted. 'That's one of the things I'm hoping to discover.'
'Does the house have a name?' Mrs McLeod asked, seeming to surface from some deep contemplation.
Emma nodded. 'Broch House.'
'Ah!' Mrs McEwan nodded with satisfaction. 'So your aunt was Miss Nicholson, Miss Freda Nicholson?'
'Yes.' Emma smiled with surprise herself now. 'Did you know her?'
'Of course! Everyone knew Freda.'
'Not quite everyone, Mother,' Jennifer added. 'But you're right. She was well known. A lovely person, too. And so interesting.'
Emma smiled. 'I'm really glad I bumped into you both. Perhaps you can tell me more about her?'
'Certainly we can,' Mrs McEwan said. 'How much time do you have, dear?'
Chapter Fourteen
Emma didn't learn a lot more from her companions. Mostly, they repeated what she had already learned from Gregor. Over a great many years, Freda had become well known through her writing and broadcasting on Orkney topics. Neither of them had known Freda in a personal sense, unfortunately, but they were a mine of information about her interest in archaeology, birds, flora, folklore – and everything else to do with Orkney life.
'Gregor said she was a freelance journalist,' Emma told them.
'That sounds right,' Jennifer said. 'Anyway, he would know, wouldn't he? After all, he's much the same himself – freelance, I mean.'
Mrs McEwan gave a heavy sigh and said, 'How I wish my son had found himself a proper job.'
'Oh, I think he has a wonderful job!' Emma protested.
'Doing what, though? Photographing seals and birds, and things? He could be doing something useful – working in a bank or school teaching. Even bricklaying! A proper career.'
'Oh, Mother!' Jennifer said. 'Stop teasing. You know you don't really mean that. Gregor is doing very well for himself. I wish I could make a living out of photographing birds. That would suit me very well.'
'Me, too,' Emma added. 'It beats working in an insurance office, like I do.'
'Yes,' Mrs McEwan said, 'Gregor has a lovely time. But if he falls off a cliff, and can't work for six months because he's broken his leg, he will have no money coming in, will he? Anyway, I don't suppose he makes a lot of money at the best of times, doing what he does.'
'I'll see if I can get him a job in the office where I work,' Emma suggested. 'Perhaps he would like that better?'
'Now you're talking!' Mrs McEwan said, nodding her head vigorously.
Jennifer burst into laughter. Emma joined her, and after a few moments of token dissent so did Mrs McEwan.
'I do worry about him, though,' the old lady confessed. 'He's never been the same since ....'
'Mother!' Jennifer said sharply. 'Please don't start that again.'
Mrs McEwan sighed. Then she added, 'Perhaps a regular job wouldn't suit him very well, but it would ease my mind. I could stop worrying about him then.'
*
Somehow they seemed to have reached the end of their conversation. Emma sensed it was time to go, and started to make preparations to depart. Mrs McEwan returned to the subject of Freda just before she did so.
'I attended her funeral, in St Magnus Cathedral,' she said with some relish. 'It was lovely.'
'Oh, Mother!' Jennifer said with exasperation. 'Funerals are not lovely.'
'Well, Freda's was,' the old lady said stoutly. 'So many people there! Freda would have been proud of the way they celebrated her life.'
Emma's ears pricked up at this bit of news. 'Was much said of her early life?'
'Not really. Just that she was not born here. I don't think anyone knew much about the time before she came to Orkney.'
'How strange,' Jennifer said with a frown, glancing at Emma. 'Did your family not know about it?'
Emma shook her head. 'I think she had simply disappeared from my family's life. My parents seem to know nothing about her. It is odd, you're right. I don't understand it myself.'
*
Jennifer said she would walk Emma back to the car park, as she was going to collect her own car there in order to give her mother a lift home.
'So you've met Alastair,' Jennifer said with a chuckle as they walked along. 'How did you get on with him? He's not everyone's cup of tea.'
Emma laughed. 'He wants to buy my house – Freda's house, that is.'
'For next to nothing?'
'Yes! How did you know? Have you been speaking to Gregor?'
'Not recently, no. I just know what Ally's like. He's the only one in the family with any money, mainly because he hangs on to it so well and is good at finding bargains. I would imagine he has been pointing out all the defects of the house?'
'Oh, yes. I can't imagine why he's interested in it. So far as he's concerned, it should be demolished to stop it being a health and safety risk.'
'That's Alastair!'
'Apparently, the Orkney economy is in steep decline, as well.'
'So prices are rock-bottom, and houses hard to sell?'
'Exactly.'
'That really is my brother for you. My advice is to ignore him. Any house Freda Nicholson owned and lived in so long must be wonderful.'
'It is, actually. I really do like it. It's such an interesting place. Mind you, I'm still struggling to find out how Freda lived. That's become an intriguing question, one that you other brother has been helping me with. I think he's now as interested as I am.'
'Gregor. Yes, I can imagine. Here we are! Which is your car?'
'The little Clio, over there in the corner.'
'Oh, that's a nice little car. I would love something like that myself. Instead, I have to drive that great big thumping thing over there!'
Jennifer pointed to a double-cab pickup truck that looked capable of carrying almost anything that anyone might ever want to transport anywhere.
'It must be good when you go shopping,' Emma suggested. 'You'll be able to get everything in one go.'
'Oh, yes – for the whole year!'
They walked together over to Emma's little car. Suddenly, Jennifer seemed to have something in mind that she was finding it a struggle to say.
'What?' Emma said with a smile.
Jennifer laughed and brought her hand up to her face with embarrassment. 'That obvious, is it?'
'That you want to tell me something? Yes, it is. I'm a diligent student of human emotions and psychology. You want to tell me something, but you're not sure how to do it. Don't worry, Jennifer. I'm a big girl now. What have I done wrong?'
'Nothing, absolutely nothing! Oh, dear. I should never have started.' She paused, sighed and then said, 'It's Gregor.'
'Oh?'
'There's something you should know.'
Chapter Fifteen
Emma steeled herself. She got ready to be told Gregor was a married man, a serial philanderer and that she should keep clear of him to avoid wrecking his family. Maybe she was even about to be accused of being a threat to the family?
'All right, Jennifer. What is it that I need to know? What have I done wrong?'
'Oh, nothing! Nothing at all, Emma, so far as I know. What I feel I should tell you is that .... Well, have you noticed that he wears a wedding ring?'
Emm
a coloured with embarrassment and guilt. Then she shrugged and said, 'Yes, I have, actually. But that's nothing to do with me. I have no designs on your brother, if that's what you mean, Jennifer.'
'No?'
'No. Nothing at all has happened between us.'
Jennifer stared for a long moment, and then said, 'That's a pity. I was hoping something might have happened. You seem to be exactly the right sort of person a man like Gregor should be meeting.'
'Whatever do you mean? I don't want to find myself in the midst of a family situation, Jennifer. Gregor's a married man, and I am certainly not looking for an affair with a married man. I'm really not that desperate – and not that stupid either.'
'Oh, Emma! Please don't take on so. You've got hold of the wrong end of the stick. Gregor is not a married man. That's the point I wanted to make.'
'Then why wear a wedding ring?'
'My brother is a deeply unhappy widower. There, does that make it clearer?'
Emma took a deep breath. Then she shrugged. 'I didn't know that. Not that it makes any difference,' she added. 'Nothing has happened between us. Gregor has simply been helping me with my research.'
'Well, I still think that's a pity. Maggie has been gone quite a few years now. I don't like to think of him spending the rest of his life alone, which seems to be his intention.'
A gust of wind interrupted their conversation. It brought a cloud of dust, followed by a hint of rain. Both women ducked their heads for a moment. Then Jennifer looked up, smiled and said, 'What a pity you're leaving so soon, Emma. There isn't really time for this now, is there?'
Emma shook her head. There wasn't time, and she didn't have the interest. All this was none of her business anyway.
'I'm sorry if I seemed to be attacking you,' Jennifer said softly. 'I really wasn't, you know.'
'That's all right,' Emma replied awkwardly. 'I'm sorry I was so defensive.'
'We should chat again. Will you come back to Orkney, do you think?'
'I'll have to. I have Freda's house to settle.'
'Of course. Will you get in touch when you do? Here, let me give you my phone number.'
Orkney Mystery Page 6
