‘Would you?’ he said gratefully. ‘I’d really appreciate it. He’s been mooning around like a lovesick puppy ever since she left and I know she’s probably forgotten all about him but if you could find out for sure, one way or the other…’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Merry promised, and decided not to explore her relief at Niall’s revelation.
Bobby loomed in front of them. ‘Are you sure you don’t want a photo? I thought all you young folks put this kind of thing on Instagram these days.’
Niall raised an eyebrow at Merry. ‘Shall we? Might be handy for the library newsletter.’
She raised a hand to smooth her tangled curls and then gave up. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Why not?’
It was much easier descending the stairs than it had been coming up, although Merry still marvelled at Bobby, who almost skipped down like a man half his age. At the bottom, he directed them to the shop and café, where they could buy authentic Fair Isle jumpers and get a decent cup of tea. Merry and Niall thanked him profusely for the tour but he waved away their thanks. ‘Just make sure I get a copy of your new book when it’s ready,’ he said, eyes twinkling. ‘It sounds like just my thing.’
‘Of course,’ Merry said, and made a mental note to be gentle if she ever wrote Bobby into a story.
They were on their way out of the door when the loudest horn Merry had ever heard reverberated around the base of the tower.
‘What the hell was that?’ Merry asked in alarm, covering her ears with her hands.
Niall shook his head, mystified until Bobby reappeared behind them, grinning at their shocked expressions.
‘And that’s what the foghorn sounds like,’ he bellowed, and his voice seemed to reach even higher decibels. ‘Sorry if it made you jump.’
‘He’s not sorry,’ Merry muttered, after she and Niall had laughed politely and begun to make their way towards the café. ‘I bet he does that to everyone.’
‘Probably,’ Niall said, pressing a finger against his earlobe and jiggling it. ‘Although I’m pretty sure he could just stand at the top and shout to warn ships on foggy days.’
Merry couldn’t help laughing. ‘Maybe that’s what he does. Come to think of it, isn’t that the plot of a Peppa Pig episode?’
He threw her a sympathetic look. ‘Damn. It’s true what they say – there really are no new ideas in the world.’
‘See?’ Merry said. ‘Being a writer is harder than it looks.’
‘Never mind,’ Niall said, pushing open the door of the café. ‘I’ll buy you some cake to make up for the disappointment.’
Merry let out a loud sigh. ‘And that is why Writer’s Arse is a thing.’
* * *
It wasn’t especially late by the time Niall stopped the car outside the croft, but Merry was finding it impossible to hide her yawns.
‘I’d invite you in for coffee but I don’t think I’d stay awake long enough to drink it,’ she told him with a rueful smile.
‘I’m pretty exhausted myself,’ he admitted. ‘It’s all that cycling.’
‘Not to mention the stairs,’ she reminded him. ‘But despite all the exercise – or maybe because of it – I had a really great time.’
‘Me too.’ His eyes rested briefly on hers, then he fixed his gaze on the sea. ‘They’ve gone fast, these six months. It hardly seems like yesterday that I brought you here for the first time and watched you become utterly mesmerized by the sunset over the bay.’
Merry felt her smile widen at the memory. ‘It was a pretty spectacular effort, even by Orkney standards. And I still find the sunsets mesmerizing. I’m going to miss them so very much.’
That wasn’t all she was going to miss, Merry wanted to say, but she was more aware than ever of the professional line between her and Niall. It might have blurred a little today but it was still there, and it felt to Merry like a tangible barrier. It was certainly enough to stop her confessing that the idea of leaving Orkney in a few weeks’ time caused her heart to ache every time she thought of it. There was nothing to be gained from telling Niall how she felt; he couldn’t offer her an extension of her residency – it wasn’t within the terms of the agreement to do so. Besides, she was certain she must have been a particularly troublesome writer for him to wrangle; as far as she could tell, none of the others had let their personal lives intrude upon their work in quite the way she had. Niall was probably counting down the days even as he sat with her right now.
‘You’ll have to come back and visit,’ he said. ‘If you want to, that is. If you have time.’
His tone was oddly stiff, she noticed, which suggested he was being polite. But it didn’t matter because she knew once she went back to London, and fell back into the cycle of her old life, the spell would be broken and it was unlikely she’d return to Orkney.
‘I might have to,’ she said, striving to keep her tone light. ‘I need an idea for my next book, after all.’
‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘You bring your laptop, I’ll supply the whisky.’
The idea of a dram or two of whisky sounded like heaven, Merry thought as another yawn crept up on her. ‘Sorry,’ she said, with some embarrassment. ‘I think I’d better call it a night. Thanks for a great day.’
‘Thank you for coming with me,’ Niall responded. ‘I love travelling around the islands but it’s always more fun with a partner in crime.’
Merry smiled and reached for the door handle. ‘Goodnight, Niall.’
‘Goodnight, Merry.’
She watched the tail-lights of his car until they blinked out of sight. Then she went inside, collected a bottle of Highland Park, a glass, and her favourite yellow woollen blanket, and took both out to the bench overlooking Brightwater Bay. Sunset was still a few hours away but in a few short weeks she’d lose the opportunity to sit here for ever. She had to appreciate it now, while she still could.
And a tiny voice in her head suggested that the view wasn’t the only thing she’d lose when she left Orkney. But there was nothing she could do about either.
* * *
Merry thought she was hallucinating when she drove back to the croft on Thursday morning to find Magnús’s Ford pick-up truck parked outside. She blinked, wondering who could have borrowed it and why they’d driven out to see her. And then she got out of the Mini, just as the driver of the pick-up pushed open the driver’s side door. She recognized him long before he’d unfolded himself to his full height; there was no mistaking Magnús Ólafsson. What he was doing outside the croft, when he should have been in Reykjavik, was another matter entirely.
‘Surprise,’ he said, as the sun appeared from behind a cloud to turn his long golden hair into a halo. ‘How’s my favourite Valkyrie?’
She reached into the car to gather up her shopping and slowly walked towards him, her heart thudding. ‘Hello, Magnús. I didn’t know you were back on Orkney.’
‘I was reminded of some urgent business that needed my attention,’ he said, slamming the car door. ‘Can I help you carry your shopping?’
Merry still wasn’t a hundred per cent sure she wasn’t imagining him – all six foot five of him – but her gut seemed convinced; it had begun tying itself in knots the moment she’d spotted the truck. ‘I can manage.’
His gaze was level. ‘I know you can manage. I’m asking if you will permit me to help.’
A cynical part of Merry’s brain suggested that it would be much harder for her to get Magnús to leave if he’d already gained access to the croft, for example, by carrying her shopping into the kitchen. But that wasn’t Magnús’s way. If he wanted to come in, he’d simply ask. And Merry was pretty certain her treacherous mouth would say yes, so she might as well save them all some time and invite him inside now.
‘Thank you,’ she said, handing over the heaviest bag. ‘There are a couple more bags in the Mini, if you don’t mind.’
His fingers brushed hers as he took the bag handle and she felt an all-too-familiar stab deep inside; apparently, he was rea
l. She focused on finding her keys and pushing the right one into the door lock. What she needed was the kind of mental boost only coffee could give, and she needed it fast.
Merry left the shopping where Magnús had placed the bags, in the middle of the kitchen floor, and put some coffee on. Then she carried two mugs through to the living room, where Magnús now sat, looking as relaxed as ever, in his usual armchair. He took the drink she offered with a grateful tip of his head and placed it carefully on the table in front of them.
‘You look well,’ he said. ‘It’s very good to see you.’
Merry ignored the swarm of butterflies released in her stomach by the compliment and sat on the end of the small sofa, as far away from Magnús as possible. ‘You look great too,’ she replied, because anything else would have been a lie. ‘How are things back at home?’
‘Slowly improving,’ he said. ‘To the point where I felt comfortable enough leaving my mother and sister alone for a couple of days, at any rate.’
‘That’s good,’ she replied. ‘I’m glad she’s getting better.’
He looked around, taking in the pile of books stacked up beside the bookshelf. ‘I see you’ve started packing. Have you decided what you will take and what you’ll leave behind yet?’
She’d found it hard to decide on anything when it came to leaving Orkney but she wasn’t about to explain that now. Taking a deep breath, Merry decided on the direct approach. ‘Not really. What can I help you with, Magnús?’
He nodded, as though the blunt question had been exactly what he’d been expecting. ‘I heard your interview on Radio Orkney. You and Jess work well together – I can understand why you are best friends.’
Which was very nice but didn’t answer her question, Merry thought. She waited.
‘As you know, it’s been a difficult few months for me,’ he went on. ‘I don’t mind telling you that my mother’s illness scared me. It reminded me that our time on earth is short and the thought of losing her sent me into a panic. I made some choices that seemed right at the time but that I now regret. And one of those regrets is breaking up with you.’
Merry’s head began to whirl the moment Magnús finished his last sentence. She had always admired his decision to put his family first and return home to Reykjavik to care for his mother, even though it had hurt at the time. But his absolute determination to do the right thing, by both Merry and his family, had been so undeniably him that it had somehow made it easier for Merry to let him go. And now here he was, telling her that he regretted his decision to end their relationship, that perhaps it hadn’t been the right thing after all. It was almost enough to blow her mind.
‘I’m not sure you had much option,’ she managed, surprised by how even her voice sounded. ‘We went over this at the time, remember? You had no idea how long your mum would need you, and decided it was better to make a clean break of things between us rather than keep me dangling. Which I am very glad for, by the way.’
Magnús watched her carefully. ‘I do remember. And I am certain, at the time, that it seemed like the most logical and sensible thing to have done. But what I am saying now is that I was wrong.’
She nodded slowly. ‘When did you realize?’
‘Almost immediately,’ he said. ‘But I was not selfish enough to disturb your peace of mind, plus I was afraid you might have moved on, so I buried the thoughts and got on with the task of nursing my mother.’
‘What changed?’ Merry asked, even though she already knew the answer.
‘Hearing you talk on the radio,’ Magnús said simply. ‘You mentioned a kiss on a starlit night and I knew you meant the night we spent watching the Merry Dancers. And it gave me hope that perhaps it was not too late, that I might be able to put right the mistake I had made.’
The memory of kissing Magnús underneath a blanket of the aurora made Merry’s cheeks burn. ‘But the interview was weeks ago,’ she said, trying to get her racing heart under control.
Magnús sighed. ‘I know. It has taken me this long to summon up the courage to come and see you. We are not all brave Valkyries like you, Merry. I knew there was a good chance you would say no, and then my hopes would be dashed.’
Merry stared at him for what felt like an eternity. How many times after he’d left had she longed to see him again, dreamed of a moment just like this when they could fall into each other’s arms. Now here he was, a few metres away from her, his green eyes fixed solemnly on hers, and the desire to kiss him was almost overwhelming. All she had to do was get to her feet and cross the room.
All she had to do was say yes.
Chapter Seven
‘I don’t know.’
The words were out of Merry’s mouth before she could stop them. Part of her brain recoiled incredulously – the part that was urging her legs to move – but another part was replaying everything that had happened with a much more objective eye. And it was that considering, sensible part of her brain that had confessed that she didn’t know how to react to Magnús’s revelation.
A wary expression crossed his face, although Merry didn’t think he was surprised. ‘Of course, this is not something I expect you to decide now,’ he said. ‘You should take your time and be guided by what you want, as much as what I want. But just as I regret the decision to break off my relationship with you, I know I would also very much regret it if I didn’t ask for another chance.’
Merry watched as he drained his coffee and stood up. ‘You’re leaving?’
He nodded. ‘For now, to allow you the time and space to think. But I will be on Orkney for another day, at least. If you want to talk more, or decide you would also like to try again, then you know how to contact me.’
He moved towards the front door. Merry followed him, feeling strangely light-headed and confused. ‘And if I decide I don’t want to try again?’
‘Then I will be very sorry but at least I will have the satisfaction of knowing I tried,’ he said and paused in the doorway. ‘And just in case you have forgotten how that kiss felt…’
Cupping her cheek with one calloused hand, he lowered his head to hers and planted the softest of kisses on her lips. Instantly, Merry felt heat rush through her veins and every part of her seemed to burn at once. But no sooner had the kiss begun than it ended and she was left longing for more.
Magnús stepped back, his eyes stormy, and she knew he’d been just as affected as her. ‘Be well, Merry. I hope to hear from you soon.’
He walked away, leaving her leaning against the doorframe, weak-kneed. So that was the kind of kiss that left the recipient trembling, she thought, as the engine of the pick-up truck roared into life. And even as she stepped back and closed the door, her mouth still tingling and her body still yearning for more, the part of her that was a writer was storing the sensations away for use in a story someday.
Maybe that was the way to approach this, she thought as she wandered back to the sofa: maybe she should think it through as though Magnús was the hero in one of her stories. Except that in the world of romantic fiction there was no decision to be made; her readers would be shouting yes even before the kiss. The trouble was that this was real life and emotions were not as easily rewritten. And Merry’s feelings were as tangled as it was possible to be.
What she needed was a friend to offer steady but impartial advice. But all she had was herself.
* * *
Merry spent a sleepless night tossing and turning, replaying the scene over and over in her mind until she wanted to cry with bewilderment. More than anything, she wished she could message Jess, to reap the benefit of her forthright but trustworthy wisdom. But that wasn’t an option now and she’d deliberately left her phone in the living room, so that she wouldn’t be tempted to contact her. This time, she had to work out her path alone.
Or did she? She might not be able to talk to Jess but she did have friends on Orkney. When she arrived at the farmhouse just after eleven o’clock, Clare took one look at her pale face and puffy eyes and ushered H
ugh from the kitchen. He took the dismissal in his stride, glancing from Clare to Merry without comment and pausing only to squeeze Merry’s shoulder as he left the room.
‘Don’t take this the wrong way but you look like hell,’ Clare said the moment the door closed. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Everything,’ Merry said dully. ‘Or maybe nothing. I actually can’t tell.’
Clare eyed her sharply, then reached for the cake tin. ‘Right. You cut the Battenberg, I’ll make the tea and let’s see if we can’t sort this out.’
She listened while Merry poured everything out: the ongoing silence from Jess, Niall’s revelation about Andrew, Merry’s mixed feelings about returning to London. When she reached the part about Magnús, Clare’s eyes became saucers but she didn’t interrupt, not even when Merry described the kiss. She waited until Merry had finished speaking, then sat back in her seat and puffed out a long breath.
‘I don’t know where to begin,’ she said, with a small shake of her head.
Merry sighed. ‘Me either.’
Clare took a mouthful of cake and chewed in an absent-minded way. ‘And you’ve heard nothing from Jess? Not even when you apologized?’
Merry shifted on her chair. ‘Well. I haven’t exactly apologized.’
‘Okay,’ Clare said carefully. ‘Do you think maybe that might be a good place to start? It’s pretty clear now that there’s nothing going on between her and Niall.’
‘Is it?’ Merry replied, raising her chin. ‘Obviously, Niall doesn’t see her that way but that doesn’t mean Jess doesn’t fancy him.’
The other woman stared at her. ‘You know her best, of course. But she’s been back in London for a few weeks now – is it really likely she’s still carrying a torch for Niall when they live seven hundred miles apart?’
The answer was no, Merry knew. When it came to dating, Jess had the attention span of a goldfish and rarely maintained interest in one man for more than a month. And it seemed unlikely she and Niall were still in touch, given his questions to Merry the day they’d visited the lighthouse. So even if Jess had been interested in Niall, that interest had almost certainly faded by now.
Sunset over Brightwater Bay Page 7
