Sunset over Brightwater Bay

by Holly Hepburn

  ‘What I’m getting at here,’ Clare went on in a gentle tone, ‘is whether it’s worth potentially losing your best friend over something that probably isn’t true. Especially since you know there’s no way Niall sees Jess as anything more than a friend.’

  She was right, Merry knew, and the realization made her want to groan. ‘I’m such an idiot.’

  ‘No, you’re a human being,’ Clare said. ‘We all make mistakes and I’m sure Jess will understand. But I think you need to say sorry if you want to repair the damage to your friendship. The sooner the better.’

  Merry nodded gratefully. ‘Okay. I will.’

  ‘As for whether you’re ready to go back to London, who says you have to?’

  ‘I’m only meant to be here for six months,’ Merry said. ‘I’m sure the Literary Society would take a dim view if I refused to leave at the start of August.’

  Clare shrugged. ‘We’ve got a spare room – you could stay with us until you find somewhere else to live. But, actually, the croft stays empty for half the year – the Writer in Residence scheme only runs from February to August, so it’s not as though someone else will be moving in when you vacate. You might find the Literary Society is open to you extending your stay, if you offer to pay rent and don’t mind the long winter nights.’

  Merry’s jaw dropped a little. It was such a simple solution; why hadn’t she thought of it? ‘But why hasn’t Niall suggested it?’ she asked, still trying to get her head around the idea.

  ‘Maybe he doesn’t know you’re thinking about staying,’ Clare said. ‘Have you ever actually told him?’

  It was another good point, Merry acknowledged – had she? She’d certainly said she’d miss Orkney when she left, and Niall had always been so good at reading between the lines that perhaps she’d expected him to understand without ever expressly mentioning that she might stay. ‘I don’t know,’ she told Clare. ‘It’s possible I haven’t.’

  ‘So that’s another conversation you need to have,’ Clare said with some satisfaction. ‘And with a bit of luck, you can sort something out and then that problem will be solved. Which leaves us with Magnús.’ She stopped and took a long sip of tea, watching Merry over the top of her mug. ‘What are you going to do about him?’

  ‘Honestly? I have no idea.’

  Clare pursed her lips and lifted her hands as though ticking off options. ‘Let’s think it through. One, you stay on Orkney and restart things with Magnús, seeing each other when he comes here or you go to Reykjavik.’

  That had been the suggestion Merry had made to Magnús when he’d first announced he was moving back to Iceland to look after his mother. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘It’s not the easiest journey but it could work if we put the effort in.’

  ‘Option two, you go back to London and restart things.’

  ‘That could work as well,’ Merry said. ‘In fact, getting to Reykjavik from London might be easier than from here. But it would mean leaving Orkney…’

  She trailed off as the familiar bubble of reluctance rose up inside her.

  ‘That’s true,’ Clare said. ‘And I think we’ve established you’re going to stay. So that means the final option is staying on Orkney and not restarting things with Magnús. How does that make you feel?’

  Wrapping her hands around the mug of tea, Merry gave it some thought. Seeing Magnús had certainly reminded her of the physical attraction between them and she knew there’d been much more to their relationship than that. He was kind and thoughtful and generous and caring… In short, the perfect boyfriend. Dating him again would be no hardship, even if it had to be long-distance for now, and she had no doubt she could fall in love with him, given time. So, what was stopping her from accepting his offer, she wondered yet again. Why wasn’t her heart singing a big joyful YES?

  She sighed and met Clare’s eyes. ‘I think he’s too late,’ she said slowly, feeling her way around the admission for the first time. ‘I think maybe there’s someone else I like more.’

  Her friend watched her for a moment, then nodded. ‘I think so too. Although just for the sake of clarity, I have to check you don’t mean Alex here.’

  The comment was so unexpected that Merry let out an involuntary snort of laughter. ‘No,’ she said, blinking. ‘I definitely don’t mean Alex.’

  Clare sat back in her seat. ‘Good, because I didn’t want to have to slap you. And for what it’s worth, I think the someone you like likes you too.’

  But Merry shook her head. ‘No, he doesn’t. He’s made that pretty clear.’

  ‘Has he?’ Clare asked sceptically. ‘Or have you just decided he’s not interested because that meant you didn’t have to confront your own feelings?’

  Ouch, Merry thought as the observation hit home. She grimaced at Clare. ‘Have I ever mentioned you have a lot in common with Jess sometimes?’

  ‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ Clare said, grinning. ‘But seriously, I’ve known Niall a long time and I’ve never seen him as obviously smitten as he is now. I don’t know why he hasn’t told you how he feels – maybe it’s a work thing, because you’re our Writer in Residence and that makes you somehow off limits. But I bet if you stay on after the residency ends, you’ll discover how he really feels.’

  The thought of having a conversation like that with Niall, of perhaps going on a date and maybe even kissing him, unleashed a fury of butterflies in Merry’s stomach. ‘But what if you’re wrong?’

  Clare spread her hands. ‘Then I’m wrong. But here’s the thing – do you want to go through life regretting the chances you didn’t take?’

  Merry thought back to Magnús, and what might have been if he’d taken a risk on their relationship. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t want to regret anything.’

  ‘Well, then,’ Clare said. ‘I think my work here is done. Do you feel better?’

  ‘I do,’ Merry said, smiling. ‘A tiny bit terrified but definitely better. Thank you.’

  Clare returned her smile. ‘Good. And in return, you can help me muck out the llamas. What size wellies do you take?’

  Chapter Eight

  Merry was unaccountably nervous when she arrived at the library for the ceilidh on the last Saturday in July.

  It wasn’t that she was anxious about the dancing; everyone had assured her there would be a caller giving clear instructions on what to do and when. And it wasn’t because the night represented the official end to her duties as Orkney’s Writer in Residence, although she was sorry her tenure was coming to an end – but not as sorry as she might have been if she was heading back to London on Monday morning. Thanks to Clare’s sensible suggestion, she’d raised the idea of staying on at the croft with Niall and he’d been delighted to negotiate an extension to her tenancy lasting until the end of the year. But despite the lack of a tangible reason, there was no denying the pins and needles in Merry’s fingers, or the rapid thud of her heart, as she stepped from the taxi and approached the library.

  She paused for a moment in the courtyard, taking in the fairy lights that adorned the walls and listening to the buzz of conversation and laughter that floated from the library itself. She’d done so many public events here over the past six months and none had made her feel as unsettled as she did now. But there was no backing out – the whole evening had been arranged in her honour – so she straightened her calf-length red dress and smoothed her 1940s-style curls behind their rose-covered clips and went inside.

  The lobby was thronged with people, all dressed in ’Forties finery. The women had really made an effort, Merry noted with delight; the dresses were a kaleidoscope of vintage colour and the hairstyles covered every style from victory rolls to pin curls. Many of the men had opted for traditional dress, in kilts and sashes and knee-high socks, but a few were dressed in suits and ties. It was a sight to gladden Merry’s heart and she was pleased she’d gone to town on her own outfit.

  The first person to catch Merry’s eye was Sheila, who wore an elegant tea dress that Merry
suspected was genuinely from the wartime era.

  ‘Don’t you look lovely!’ her silver-haired neighbour exclaimed, looking Merry up and down with evident satisfaction. ‘I can’t take all the credit, of course, but those runs along the cliffs have put roses in your cheeks to rival the ones in your hair.’

  Merry laughed. ‘It’s definitely all down to you, Sheila. I’d have sat on my sofa all year if you hadn’t encouraged me to join you.’

  Sheila beamed at her. ‘And now that you’re staying on, the best is yet to come,’ she said. ‘I’ll have you running a marathon before you know it.’

  Niall appeared beside them. ‘Don’t scare the poor woman, Sheila. She might decide to go back to London on Monday after all.’

  ‘We wouldn’t want that,’ Sheila observed, raising a knowing eyebrow at Niall. ‘But I’m sure you two have official business to discuss now, so I’ll leave you to it.’

  She raised her glass and moved towards another group, which Merry saw contained Bridget and several other members of Sheila’s book group.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Niall asked, smiling at Merry. ‘Ready to celebrate?’

  She tipped her head. ‘Sort of. I’m weirdly nervous, to be honest.’

  ‘You don’t look it,’ he said. ‘In fact, you look beautiful.’

  He blushed slightly as he said it but Merry noticed his gaze was steady. ‘Thank you. You look great too. Very dapper.’

  Glancing down at his kilt, he nodded. ‘It’s kind of you to say so but I think we can both agree I don’t have the knees for this. Still, it’s tradition and I don’t mind sacrificing my dignity in honour of you.’

  It wasn’t true, Merry thought. There was nothing wrong with his knees or any other part of him, as far as she could tell. But she felt some of her anxiety slip away as she smiled. ‘I’m suitably grateful. What’s the plan? I assume we’ll do the talking bit before the dancing starts?’

  He nodded. ‘We’ll open the doors to the hall shortly and let people take a seat. Then, once the speeches are done, you’ll be presented with a small token of thanks from the Literary Society and the readers of Orkney. And after that, you’d better be ready to dance. I suspect you’re not going to be short of partners.’

  ‘Poor them,’ Merry said. ‘I hope they won’t mind me treading on their toes.’

  Niall grinned. ‘It’s your own toes you should be worried about. We’re not all Billy Elliott, you know.’ He paused and looked around. ‘Want to come and have a sneaky peek at the hall? The library staff have worked wonders getting it ready for tonight – it’s like stepping back seventy-five years.’

  Merry felt her face light up. ‘Absolutely. I can’t wait to see it.’

  ‘Then follow me,’ he said, and snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. ‘I know you don’t normally drink before an event but this is a very special occasion.’

  She took the glass he offered her and sipped. ‘Maybe one won’t hurt. It might even help.’

  As always, the hall had been set up with row after row of seats, all facing a small, spot-lit stage. But Merry barely noticed. She was too busy admiring the sumptuous decorations that lined the walls, the glorious art deco bar that lined the back wall, and the perfect 1940s vibe of the seating on the stage. There were four winged armchairs, a Winchester rug and even a gramophone on a stand. A tall standard lamp stood behind one of the chairs and she spotted vintage teacups with saucers laid out on the table instead of the usual bottles of water.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ she said, shaking her head in wonderment. ‘What a transformation.’

  ‘We’ll move the chairs once the presentation is over, and bring in some tables for around the edges,’ Niall said. ‘And the band will take the stage, obviously.’

  Merry marvelled at the hall again. ‘This is incredible. Thank you.’

  Niall shrugged. ‘Don’t thank me, thank the library staff. I’m just as blown away as you.’ He paused and gave her a sidelong look. ‘Now, there’s someone I think you need to see before we kick things off. Wait here a minute and I’ll go and find her.’

  Merry frowned as he hurried away, wondering who on earth he meant. Perhaps there was someone on the Literary Society she ought to meet. She waited, sipping her champagne as she found new details in the decorations to admire. And then there was a click as the door to the hall opened. Merry looked over and almost dropped her glass. Standing in the doorway was Jess.

  ‘Hi babes,’ she said, her vintage shoes clicking on the wooden floor as she came towards Merry. ‘Surprise!’

  Merry’s eyes flooded. ‘Oh my god! What are you doing here?’

  Jess threw her an innocent look. ‘Oh, you know. I just happened to be passing and thought I’d drop in.’ She stopped a few feet away from Merry. ‘Are you pleased to see me?’

  ‘Pleased?’ Merry echoed and hurried forward to throw her arms around her best friend. ‘I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life!’

  Jess hugged her back and Merry closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to ruin her carefully applied make-up.

  ‘You didn’t reply to my message saying sorry,’ she said, standing back and sniffing. ‘I thought you hated me.’

  Jess shook her head. ‘Of course I don’t hate you. I wanted to give you a bloody good shake to make you see sense but that’s not the same thing. And when I thought about it, I figured it was better to sort things out face-to-face. Less risk of any more misunderstandings.’ She hesitated, then sighed. ‘And I owe you an apology too because I have a small confession to make. I might have slightly pretended to be interested in Niall to make you jealous.’

  Merry’s mouth fell open. ‘What? Why?’

  ‘I know, it wasn’t my finest moment,’ Jess said, with an embarrassed shudder. ‘But I thought it might make you realize how you felt about him and – I don’t know – snog him to within an inch of his life or something.’

  ‘Jess!’

  Her best friend eyed her slyly. ‘It worked, though. Niall says you’re staying on here for a few months – that’s so you can have lots of hot sex with each other, right?’

  She ought to be angry, Merry thought, but it was impossible to feel anything other than relief and joy. ‘Maybe,’ she said, feeling the beginnings of a blush warm her cheeks. ‘I still have no idea if that’s what he wants.’

  ‘He does,’ Jess replied firmly. ‘Trust me, he really, really does.’

  Merry had no idea how she could be so certain and decided she didn’t want to ask. But there was something she did want to know. ‘So, you know when we did the Radio Orkney interview, and you said there was someone you had your eye on – was that part of your plan to make me feel jealous?’

  Jess frowned. ‘What? No, of course not. I meant Andrew, you idiot.’ She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. ‘Anyone with half a brain could see that, let alone the person who’s supposed to know me best.’

  ‘Ohhh,’ Merry said. It all made perfect sense. ‘Oh, and he likes you too! Niall told me he’s been asking after you – you should definitely speak to him while you’re here.’

  ‘Way ahead of you, Mer,’ Jess said, her eyes sparkling with affectionate amusement. ‘Unlike you, it doesn’t take me six months to work out what I want. And maybe Brightwater Bay will have another Chiswick author for a tenant next year.’

  ‘Really?’ Merry squeaked and brought her hands together in a gesture that was half-prayer, half-applause. ‘That would be so awesome.’

  ‘It’s not a done deal,’ Jess warned. ‘But you didn’t leave me much choice – I’m not sure I can cope with another six months without you.’

  Merry thought her face might crack if her smile got any wider. ‘I’m so glad you’re here now.’

  ‘Me too,’ Jess replied. ‘Now let’s get another drink. I intend to be very tipsy indeed by the time the dancing starts.’

  Niall made a beeline for them as soon as they returned to the lobby. ‘All okay?’ he asked, his eyes resting on Merr
y.

  ‘Everything is perfect,’ she said, beaming at him. ‘How long have you known she was coming?’

  ‘About a week,’ he admitted. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you – Jess swore me to secrecy.’

  ‘No need to apologize,’ Merry said. ‘It was a lovely surprise. Thank you for helping to make it happen.’

  Jess cleared her throat. ‘Do you mind if I leave you to it for a bit, babes? There’s someone I really need to see.’

  Merry followed her gaze and saw Andrew, dressed in what looked an awful lot like a Viking version of a kilt, in amongst some of the other Highland Park gang. ‘Go ahead,’ she said. ‘We can catch up later, after the speeches.’

  ‘And talking of the speeches,’ Niall said, as Jess headed towards Andrew, ‘we should probably kick those off. Let me go and open the hall doors and make an announcement for people to take their seats.’

  By the time everyone had filtered into the hall – among gasps of admiration, Merry was pleased to note – and filled up the rows of seats, Merry had begun to feel nervous again. But no sooner than her hands started to shake than Niall was beside her on the stage.

  ‘One last job to do,’ he murmured encouragingly. ‘Then you can enjoy yourself.’

  The other guests took their seats: Hamish Burns, the chair of Orkney Literary Society, and Morag Rossi, who Merry was going to present with a specially bound edition of her new novel. Niall stood up and raised his hands, and immediately the room fell quiet.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, what a pleasure it is to welcome you here tonight, as we gather to celebrate another wonderful contribution from Orkney’s Writer in Residence scheme.’ He glanced around the room and smiled. ‘As you know, our hope at the start of each residency is that the chosen writer will encourage people to read more. Judging from the incredible turnout tonight, and at every other event we’ve run this year, that hope has more than been realized.’