She dug into her pocket and produced a pen and a scrap of paper, which she studied for a moment. 'It's just a receipt from the Co-op,' she decided. 'Nothing I need to keep.'
She scribbled for a moment and handed the scrap of paper over. Emma thanked her and turned to get into the car. Jennifer stood where she was while Emma started the engine.
'What happened to Gregor's wife?' Emma couldn't help asking before she put the car in gear.
'Oh, it was very sad. She was killed in a road accident in Africa, for which he blamed himself. It really wasn't his fault, but he doesn't see it that way. He thinks he should never have agreed to take her with him.' Jennifer shrugged and added, 'Maggie was hard to deny anything, but he doesn't see it that way.'
'I'm sorry. Thank you for telling me, by the way.'
As she drove out of the car park, a glance in the rear-view mirror told her that Jennifer was still watching.
*
Waiting for the ferry to sail and then during the voyage across the Pentland Firth, there was plenty of time to think. Too much time, actually. She mulled over what Jennifer had told her. Poor Gregor. What a sad situation.
Not that it made any real difference so far as she was concerned. As she had told Jennifer, nothing had happened between herself and Gregor in a romantic sense, nothing at all. He was a fine man. She liked him a lot, and admittedly would like to see him again – to help with the pursuit of Freda, she added quickly. But that was that. There was no need for Jennifer to get upset – or hopeful either, she thought with a wry smile.
Anyway, from what she had seen, Gregor had a good life here. His work was obviously important to him, and he enjoyed it. It gave him a good living, despite his mother's regret that he didn't have a "proper" job. She grinned at that thought. Mrs McEwan was a bit of a character, and she liked her. She liked Jennifer, too. Perhaps she would see them all again. She hoped so.
Not Archie, though. She could do without seeing him again. Mind you, she thought, he was a bit of a character, too. What a family they were!
As for Broch House, she didn't know what to do about that. It would have to be sold eventually, of course, but not until she was ready to take the necessary steps. Not until she knew more about Freda, in other words. Not until Gregor had helped her get further down that road.
Then we'll see, she decided. But for now, at least, I'm going to put it in cold storage. I have a life to lead, too, and work to do. I'd better get on with it.
Chapter Sixteen
As she neared Newcastle, Emma couldn't wait to get back home to her flat. The city seemed so drab and crowded after Orkney, and the traffic was terrible. It took an age to get from the northern outskirts through to the Tyne Bridge, and then over the river. It started to rain just as she was unloading the car. That just about finished her. She was exhausted from the two-day drive, and tormented still by all the unanswered questions her trip to the Northern Isles had unleashed.
Once, before it had all begun, things had seemed so simple. She would take a week or two off work and have a bit of a holiday while she sorted out the house someone she had never met had very kindly, and inexplicably, left to her. She would make a leisurely drive north through Scotland, take a ferry to the islands, and then she would spend a couple of days looking over Aunt Freda's house before she arranged for it to be sold. Then she would drive home again, ready to get back to her life. That had been it – the entire plan.
Had it worked out like that? Not a bit of it. Lifting the lid on her inheritance had released an unfathomable swarm of conundrums to tease and plague her. What on earth was it all about? Why, why, why?
Just who, exactly, was this mysterious woman, Freda Nicholson? She seemed to have lived a life far from the ordinary, but what on earth had led her to bequeath her home to someone with whom she had no apparent connection?
Then there was Gregor. He had flashed into her life like a passing comet. Would she ever see him again? And even if she did, what then?
She had no idea. All she knew was that there was some thinking to be done. At least, there would be when she had recovered from the journey. Right now, all she really wanted was a hot bath and to go to bed for about ten hours. All the questions and issues could wait until tomorrow.
First, though, she needed to ring Mum, and reassure her she was all right, and back in the real world, where things were usually more understandable.
*
'Hello, Mum! It's me.'
'Emma! Where are you?'
She felt herself relaxing. It was so good to hear that voice again, and that good, old Geordie accent that she knew so well.
'Home. I'm back home. Just got in. I was going to come over to see you but I'm so tired it'll have to wait till tomorrow. I just wanted you to know I was back safely.'
'That's good. We were wondering. How was Orkney? Did you get everything sorted?'
'Well, not really. I'll have to go back again soon. It was all more complicated than I expected, but I'll tell you about it when I see you. I'm too tired to start now. I enjoyed the week, though. Orkney is a lovely place. Very interesting, too.'
'What about the cottage?'
'Actually, it's not a little cottage, Mum. It's a big house. But wait till tomorrow. I'll tell you all about it then.'
'All right, pet. You get yourself to bed now. We'll talk tomorrow.'
'Bye, Mum!'
*
She couldn't be bothered with a bath, after all, she decided. So she had a quick shower instead. Then she made herself a mug of camomile tea and sat sipping it at the kitchen table. One eye caught the unpacked bag she had brought home with her. The other eye saw the pile of mail she had picked up from the hall. Her eyes moved on and she left everything alone. She couldn't be bothered with anything very much. She was so tired.
Orkney was still on her mind, though. The island of Mainland, Broch House, Freda, and Gregor. They were all there, in the front of her thoughts. Jennifer and Mrs McEwan, too. She had thought she had left them all behind, but she hadn't really. They were still with her, the people and the places. She could see them now. It had been such a long journey home – too long, really – but nothing had faded from memory. If anything, her memories were more vivid than ever, especially those of Gregor.
His mother and sister had combined to make him seem even more real somehow. She liked him so much, more than ever. Poor Gregor. Such sadness in his life, especially if he believed himself to be responsible for his wife's death. She wondered what had happened, and regretted not asking Jennifer for more information. Too late now, she thought with a shrug. But perhaps she would see Jennifer again. Who could tell?
Despite his loss, Gregor had done his best to overcome it. He was very busy, making his living out of what he seemed to like doing best. Freelancing had to be hard at times. Yet he had kept at it. He had also kept the memory of his wife alight. He wore her ring, as if to say she was still with him. It was how it should be, when two people who loved each other were torn apart by tragedy. She could see that.
One way or another, she felt as if she understood him so much better now. She liked him so much more, too. It was just a pity he lived so far away. They could have become friends – or even something more, perhaps, in time – but not when his life was lived there, and hers was here. Still, she might see him again when she returned to the island. She hoped so. It was something to look forward to, a straw to cling to.
Meanwhile, of course, she thought with a weary yawn, she had plenty more to think about and to investigate. Surely somebody in her family must know something about Aunt Freda? It simply defied common sense that nobody knew anything. She couldn't believe it.
Well, starting tomorrow, Sunday, she would make a start. One thing was for sure : there was no way she could sell Broch House without first understanding more about Freda and the life she had led in the Northern Isles.
Chapter Seventeen
Sunday morning was busy. She put the washer on a
nd checked the fridge to see what she was short of in the groceries department. Everything, it seemed. She grimaced. Well, she would have to manage with what she had in tins and in the freezer. She wasn't going to the supermarket on a Sunday. There were better things to do, more important things. Shopping would have to wait until after work on Monday, or even Tuesday.
Anna and Kim should be back from Greece by now – assuming they hadn't been detained by Greek waiters with offers of marriage. Or was it Turkish waiters that did that? She grinned at the thought. But would they be up by ten? Probably not. So she would leave contacting them for now, and visit Mum and Dad instead.
Before she set off, she checked the mail that had gathered during her absence. Most of it, she didn't even bother opening the envelopes. She could tell what the letters were : bank statements, credit card statements, and other communications requiring, if not actually demanding, payment. Like a lot of other things, they could wait.
The one envelope she did open enclosed a letter from the solicitor handling the English-end of Aunt Freda's will. Would she phone to arrange an appointment?
Well, she would, she thought with a frown. But what did they want? Had something happened?
Again, though, she could do nothing on a Sunday. So that was something else that would have to wait.
She set off for her parents' place in Gosforth. Another thing, she thought : the car needed a service. The display panel was telling her so : in another hundred miles. But that, too, could wait until Monday.
*
They enjoyed hearing about her journey, especially the ferry crossing, which she made sound more dramatic than it actually had been.
'It's a long way north, Orkney,' Dad pronounced solemnly. 'I've had a look at the map. They'll get big seas up there.'
'And I saw them!' she assured him, laughing.
'A bit like it is off Whitley Bay when there's a spring tide.'
She shook her head vigorously. 'It's nothing like Whitley Bay, Dad. The North Sea there is just a mill pond.'
'Oh, I don't know about that. It can get rough off the Tyne.'
She smiled sweetly, and with relief turned to Mum, who was asking about the house.
'Like I said, it's a big house. There's six bedrooms, and some lovely, spacious rooms downstairs. It took me all week just to get round them all! The garden's a good size, as well.'
'Goodness! As big as that? I had no idea,' Mum said wonderingly.
That's because you know nothing at all about Aunt Freda, Emma thought with a sigh.
'Have you put it up for sale now?' Dad asked.
'No, I haven't yet. I didn't have time to sort everything out.'
'Does it need a lot of work doing on it first?' Mum asked.
She shook her head. 'Not really. Not at all, in fact. It's just that I want to understand it better before I take that step. I'd like to know more about Aunt Freda, as well.'
She saw her parents look at each other and grimace.
'Come on, you two! Freda left me this house, and I want to know why. I also want to know what she was like, and what she was doing in Orkney all her life nearly.'
Mum shook her head. 'Oh, you don't want to go down that road, dear. It will take forever – and for what? What good will it do? Just tell the solicitors to go ahead and sell it. Then you can get on with your own life.'
She could have told them something then of what she had learned of Aunt Freda, but she didn't. For some reason she couldn't articulate, she held back. She didn't know where to start, for one thing. Also, she sensed a lack of interest on their part.
Basically, they didn't seem to want to know anything about Freda. They had asked nothing about her. It was all about the journey and the house. Nothing about Freda herself.
Still, it wasn't really surprising, she supposed. They had not been in touch with Freda, and Orkney was not a place they were ever likely to go. It was just a little surprising that they weren't as puzzled as she was as to why Freda had left her the house. That sort of thing certainly didn't happen every day of the week. Hardly ever at all, in fact.
'Do you really know nothing about Aunt Freda?' she asked.
Dad shook his head. 'Not me. I know the name, but not much else. It's many years since I even heard the name.'
'And I can't remember ever seeing her,' Mum said. 'She's always just been an odd member of the family who chose to live in the back of beyond.'
'Ha!' Emma said with a chuckle. 'Orkney isn't exactly the back of beyond, Mum. It's got everything we have here – even a big Tesco!'
'Has it really? It might be worth going there sometime, then.'
'Just stop it!' Emma protested, laughing. 'It's a lovely place, and I had a wonderful week. Or ten days, or whatever it was.'
'Oh?' Mum said, giving her a suspicious look. 'Did you really? Does that mean you met someone?'
'Of course I met someone! I met a lot of people, and they were all very friendly and helpful.'
'A young man, I meant.'
'I know perfectly well what you meant, Mum. Yes, I did meet a very nice young man. He showed me around the island and helped with the house.'
'Oh? It's a long way away, though, isn't it?'
Emma began to feel a bit desperate. She knew the way her mother's mind worked, and she could see the cogs starting to turn. Orkney was a long way to go to see the grandchildren!
'It wasn't like that, Mum. Gregor is a wildlife cameraman and photographer. He's very passionate about his work, and very interesting too.
'What's more,' she added, 'he knew Aunt Freda. He was able to tell me a bit about her. Apparently, she was something of a local celebrity.'
Mum looked even more disconcerted for a moment. Then she yawned and said, 'Sorry, dear. I didn't have a very good night last night. I'm still tired. Would you like a coffee?'
'Yes, please. Shall I make it?'
'No. You stay here, and talk to your father. Keep him out of my way.'
Strange, Emma couldn't help thinking. Mum didn't seem her usual self this morning. Nor did Dad. All the things she had assumed they would want to hear about were just sailing above their heads. Perhaps they were both a bit tired.
She was about to tell Dad a bit more about the mysterious Aunt Freda when he straightened up in his chair and said, 'There'll be a lot of wildlife on Orkney, is there?'
'Oh, yes,' she told him. 'Birds and fish, and seals and things. Whales, as well,' she added vaguely. 'At least, I think so. Gregor is mainly interested in the birds, though.'
'That new series of David Attenborough's is very interesting,' Dad said. 'I'd like to go to that wildlife park in Kenya one day. But the wildebeest have a terrible time crossing that river every year, with the crocodiles waiting for them. Funny how they know exactly to the day when the herds will be coming. Uncanny, isn't it?'
So that's Orkney and Aunt Freda done with, Emma thought despondently. They're not interested at all in where I've been, and what I've learned. I don't know why I rushed over here. I might as well have stayed in the flat and read the Sunday paper.
Chapter Eighteen
After work on Tuesday Emma met her friends, Anna and Kim, for a Happy-Hour pizza in a lively place in Gosforth.
'I don't want to know anything at all about Greece,' Emma announced as she arrived at the table where the others were already settled in. 'Nothing at all!'
'Oh!' Kim said, with a meaningful glance at Anna. 'What does that mean, I wonder?'
'It means Emma had a terrible week in Scotland while we were sunning ourselves in Rhodes, I suppose. Sunning ourselves, swimming and drinking delicious, cheap wine,' Anna added with satisfaction.
'Not cheap!' Kim protested. 'Inexpensive is the word I would use.'
'Inexpensive, but delicious, wine then,' Anna said, accepting the correction. 'Not to mention the eligible young men hovering around us all the while.'
'Just stop it, you two!' Emma said, laughing. 'Seriously, how was it?'
'Lovely,' Kim said, 'if you really want to know.'
'Gorgeous,' Anna agreed. 'Not terribly hot, but quite warm enough for us, thank you very much.'
'The countryside is so beautiful at this time of year,' Kim said wistfully. 'Wild flowers everywhere, after the winter rain. No crowds either.'
'So what was Orkney like?' Anna asked.
'Cold and windswept, but interesting. Let's order first,' Emma suggested, waving to attract a hovering waiter. 'Then I'll tell you all about it.'
*
It was so good to be back with her friends. Emma began to feel happier than at any time since her return. She had missed them. What was more, she had such a lot to tell them.
'It's a big house,' she said, sipping her glass of wine. 'Six bedrooms, and nice, big reception rooms. Plus a big kitchen.'
'Not a country cottage, then,' Kim said. 'That's disappointing. Oh, sorry! I didn't really mean that. It's just that I was thinking of a cosy little stone cottage with a thatched roof, and roses around the door. That sort of thing.'
Emma smiled. 'No, it's not like that. Mind you, it is built of stone, and it does have a big garden.'
'A house that big,' Anna said, 'does it have a name?'
'Yes. Broch House.'
'Which means?'
'Well, Gregor told me it's an old Pictish word for fort, or castle.'
'So it's a castle?'
Emma shook her head.
'Wait a minute,' Kim interjected. 'Gregor, did you say? Who, or what, is Gregor?'
'Sorry! I haven't mentioned him, have I?'
'No,' Kim said suspiciously.
'He's a very nice man I met on the ferry, going over to Stromness. He's been ... well, helping me. His mother's nice, too.'
'Helping you – how?' Kim wanted to know.
'Just a minute,' Anna said. 'You were there ... what? A week? And you've met this man's mother already? That's going some!'
As Kim and Anna dissolved in laughter, Emma said plaintively, 'It wasn't like that. Honestly, you two!'
Orkney Mystery Page 7
