And Merry, whose eyelids felt suddenly hot and heavy, nodded and allowed herself to drift off.
* * *
The storm blew itself out overnight, but it took until late in the afternoon for the croft’s power to be restored. Clare Watson, from the neighbouring farm, had dropped by just after nine o’clock that morning. Merry was still in bed and hadn’t even heard anyone knocking, but she caught the exclamation of surprise in the other woman’s voice when the door opened to reveal someone who was very clearly unexpected.
‘Oh, she’s not well?’ Clare said loudly. ‘Hugh and I thought we’d better bring some emergency supplies, but we had no idea she was ill or I’d have come last night.’
A low rumble told Merry that Magnús had replied, but she didn’t catch the words. Her head still felt thick and woolly as she swung her feet out of bed and pulled her dressing gown on to shuffle to the hallway. ‘Thank you so much, Clare,’ she called, causing Magnús to turn and study her. ‘That’s really thoughtful of you.’
‘It’s no trouble at all,’ Clare said, beaming, and held up a jute bag. ‘Just some bread and milk and cheese, but I can see you’ve already got Magnús here looking after you.’
It was a good thing she must look a fright, Merry thought as she resisted the temptation to flatten her sweat-sticky hair, otherwise Clare would be putting two and two together and coming up with something north of a billion right now. ‘Yes, he drove over when the electricity went off yesterday. Brought a camping stove and made some soup.’
The blonde-haired woman nodded approvingly. ‘Just what you need when you’re under the weather.’ She thrust the bag towards Magnús and her bright-eyed gaze slid back and forth between him and Merry. ‘Well, don’t let me get in your way. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that’s all.’
‘Thank you,’ Merry and Magnús said, both at the same time, and Clare grinned, nodding once more before she turned away.
‘See you soon,’ she called. ‘Don’t forget you promised to come up to the farm for tea!’
She climbed into the Land Rover and was gone, leaving Merry to lean against the wall of the croft’s hallway with the sinking feeling that she was about to become the subject of some very hot gossip indeed.
‘How are you doing this morning?’ Magnús asked. ‘Did you sleep well?’
Merry glanced into the living room, at the sofa where he’d spent the night and to the flames which still roared in the hearth. ‘Probably better than you,’ she said. ‘Please tell me you didn’t wake up every hour to put more logs on the fire.’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘But it was a worthwhile sacrifice to make.’
Merry felt her mouth drop in dismay, until a faint twinkle in his eyes told her he wasn’t being serious. ‘You didn’t.’
‘No, I did not,’ he said, much to her relief. ‘One of the first things you learn in Iceland is how to bank a fire so it stays alight while you sleep. We’d never get through the winters otherwise.’
Merry felt a wry smile tug at her lips. ‘And there I was thinking you’d have central heating.’
He raised the jute bag enquiringly. ‘Hungry? I could make some scrambled eggs if you like?’
‘I need a gallon of water first,’ Merry said, suddenly aware of her own thirst. ‘And then maybe a little bit of something to eat.’
Magnús nodded. ‘Perfect. Go back to bed, I’ll bring you the water.’
The thought of him being in her bedroom seemed too intimate somehow, Merry decided, and wondered how she could frame an objection without sounding like a Victorian prude. And then it occurred to her that she had no memory of waking up from the sofa and taking herself to bed the night before. Which probably meant Magnús had carried her there as she slept and tucked her in under the covers. And if that was what had happened, it seemed a little redundant to object to him coming back in with a glass of water…
‘Sure,’ she said, feeling a flush of heat that had nothing to do with her illness. ‘Thanks, I’ll just—’
She escaped back into the bedroom and covered her over-heated face with both hands. Jess was going to have a field day when she heard about this, Merry thought as she shook her head and burrowed deep into the now-cool covers on the bed. She’d probably want to book the hen party venue and start buying bridal magazines. And Clare Watson would be right behind her.
Chapter Seventeen
Hey, stranger, how are you?
Merry stared at the message for a long time, wondering if she was still feverish. It was Thursday morning and she’d woken early to pack the last few things for her trip to London; the last thing she’d expected to see when she checked her phone was a message from Alex, sent at 10.57 the previous night. It had been months since he’d last tried to contact her and she’d followed Jess’s stern advice to ignore the attempt. She didn’t even have his number saved. Her finger hovered over the delete button but then the screen showed the word online, followed by typing…
She waited, staring at her phone as though paralysed. What was the etiquette here? He must have seen she was online too – could she simply close the message app and pretend not to have seen he was typing? Of course she could, she thought, and locked the screen. But the thought nagged at her and she found it hard to focus on wedging the last few items into her case. A moment later, her phone was in her hand and the message from Alex was on the screen.
I still have a few things at the flat. Seems silly after all this time but I need them. Any chance you could arrange for me to get access?
A deep frown creased Merry’s forehead. What could he possibly have left that he needed now, more than seven months later? Whatever it was, the likelihood was that Jess had thrown it away when she’d undertaken the Alex Purge just after Christmas. And Jess would almost certainly tell her to ignore this message too, that whatever it was Alex wanted, it was far too late. But Jess hadn’t been his childhood sweetheart, hadn’t spent fifteen years loving him… Taking a deep breath, Merry began to type.
Hi. What is it you need? I’ll get it posted to your work.
There was a brief pause and she saw he was typing a reply.
Books, mostly. I won’t know until I see the shelves – you remember how your books and mine were always snuggled up together. I can picture them but I can’t tell you the titles.
The words raised a sad smile, because that was exactly how they had always been – her romances cosied up with his spy novels. They’d used to joke about the baby books they might have together. Then she remembered the way he’d looked as he’d told her out of the blue that he didn’t love her anymore, in a restaurant so she wouldn’t make a scene, and she hardened her heart. Whatever game Alex was playing, he’d lost the ability to manipulate her feelings a long time ago.
No idea if they’ll still be there – I threw a lot out. I’m staying there for a few days from today but maybe Jess will meet you with the key next week.
He read the message immediately.
Great – thanks. Speak next week x
She gazed at that kiss for a moment, wondering all over again what the hell he was playing at, then reluctantly deleted the whole thread. If Alex really wanted his books, it was up to him to ask her again.
* * *
The view from Duck and Waffle was nothing short of spectacular. London seemed to have pulled out all the stops for Merry’s return: sunlight sparkled on the rooftops below the fortieth floor restaurant and the sky was so blue that she felt the floor to ceiling windows must have some kind of filter. And even if the panorama hadn’t been so distracting, Merry suspected she’d have had difficulty concentrating on the no-nonsense negotiation that was pinging back and forth between producer Sam Silverton and her agent, Phoebe Marsh. It had been a whirlwind twenty-four hours. Since arriving in London the day before, Merry hadn’t stopped. She’d been reunited with Jess for drinks in the George on Thursday evening, followed by a breakfast meeting at her publisher’s offices first thing the next day. Merry’s nerves had been flutteri
ng going in, but Phoebe had been with her and she needn’t have worried; her editor admitted she’d fallen in love with Orkney in the Second World War almost before they’d sat down at the meeting table. And the marketing team were equally enthusiastic, laying out their vision for the best way to handle the change in direction for Merry’s writing. She’d left the meeting with her head swimming, but generally feeling positive. And then the next message from Alex had arrived.
Why don’t I pop round to the flat while you’re here? Saves bothering Jessie x
She wondered if Jess’s poorly hidden dislike was the reason Alex was so keen to avoid her – she couldn’t think of any other reason he’d prefer to see Merry. After the break-up, he’d blocked her; that wasn’t the action of a man who wanted to spend time with his ex. And it had taken her a long time to come to terms with that, but finally, thanks to Jess’s constant encouragement and the residency on Orkney, she’d accepted that she didn’t need Alex to be happy. She could certainly do without seeing him while she was in London, but perhaps it was easier to do things this way. Once he’d got the books or whatever it was he wanted, she could close the door on him, satisfied that she’d been the better person.
A lull in the conversation caught her attention. Merry looked up to see both Phoebe and Sam watching her and she realized they must have asked a question – a question that needed an answer only she could provide. Mentally, she spooled back through the conversation; she’d only been half listening, but it seemed Sam wondered whether she had any particular actors in mind as she’d written the main characters. And, of course, she had been able to picture her characters perfectly as she’d written but not because they were famous actors. It was because they were based on real people who lived and worked on Orkney. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘The setting is the real star.’
Sam nodded, as though that was exactly the answer he’d anticipated. ‘Well, the good news on that score is that we should be able to get permission to film there at a time that suits our schedule. Are you going to want to watch?’
And that wasn’t something she’d considered, mostly because she hadn’t really allowed herself to believe the movie would ever get to the stage of filming. But she didn’t have to think too hard before answering that question either. ‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘I’d love to have a reason to go back to Orkney. It’s the most amazing place.’
Sam held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘You’re preaching to the choir here, Merry. I already know how wonderful it is.’
And Phoebe looked back and forth between them. ‘I think I need to visit and take a look for myself. No one who has been seems to stop raving about it.’
An image of Niall popped into Merry’s head, his face glowing as he described some detail of the land of his birth, and she smiled. ‘Believe me, you’ll understand why when you get there.’
Sam nodded and raised his glass. ‘To Orkney, and the beginning of another incredible adventure for all of us.’
‘To Orkney,’ Merry echoed and wondered exactly when the islands had started to feel more like her home than London.
* * *
Merry had an hour spare before she was due to meet Jess for dinner that evening so she took a deep breath and told Alex to come to the flat they’d once shared in Chiswick. She didn’t know quite what she’d been expecting – that he’d have changed in the seven months they’d been apart – but he looked almost exactly the same as he had the day he’d casually smashed her heart into tiny pieces and walked out of her life. And she felt a surprising level of satisfaction when his jaw literally dropped at the sight of her. He recovered fast and tried to smooth it over with a yawn, but Merry had known him a long time. Perhaps he’d been expecting her to be where he’d left her, still pining for the past.
‘It’s good to see you,’ she said, stepping back from the front door to allow him into the flat. ‘I hope you’re well?’
He cast another covert look her way and then gave up any attempt at pretence. ‘Not as well as you, I think. You look amazing, Merry. Have you… have you been hitting the gym?’
The last word was tinged with disbelief and she understood why: in the fifteen years they’d been together, Merry had joined the gym a total of five times, mostly as New Year resolutions that she’d broken almost instantly. Whatever else she’d been during their relationship, she’d never been one for working out.
‘Not exactly,’ she said politely. ‘But you’re not here to talk about my exercise regime. What is it you need to find?’
He blinked and ran a hand through his blond hair, a gesture she knew he only did when he was off-balance. ‘Sure. Right. It’s the Mick Herron books – the ones about Jackson Lamb. I think you bought me the first one.’
Merry knew the series he meant, just as she remembered buying a first edition as a birthday gift and getting it signed by the author at some event or another. She’d downloaded them all on audiobook after Alex had dumped her, partly as a distraction from her misery and partly in a desperate attempt to still feel close to him. And the paperbacks had survived Jess’s cull; sending a signed first edition to the charity shop felt like a betrayal of the author somehow, and if she was keeping one it made sense to keep its companions. But Merry had no intention of letting Alex see she remembered.
‘Oh, okay,’ she said, waving vaguely at the bookshelves. ‘I don’t know if I hung on to them. Why don’t you have a quick look?’
His eyes lingered on her for a moment, then he nodded. ‘Thanks.’
The temptation to be polite and offer him a drink was strong; she had to clamp her mouth shut to stop the words escaping. But Jess had been adamant.
‘I don’t know what his game is, but he’s up to something,’ she’d said the night before. ‘Don’t get sucked in, babes. He’s history, remember?’
It was hard to keep that in mind now he was right in front of her, Merry thought, watching as his hand trailed across the spines on the bookshelf. She wanted to ask how he was, what he’d been up to, but Jess had been clear on that too.
No small talk! Get rid of him as soon as you can.
‘How’s life in the frozen north?’ he said, as though reading her mind. ‘Do you have to chop wood for the fire every day – is that why you’re looking so well?’
The words were innocuous, but there was something about the tone that suggested he was having a dig at her decision to take the residency. She summoned up what she hoped was a bland smile. ‘Of course not. I have a Viking who does that for me.’
He didn’t turn around, but she did detect a slight stiffening of his shoulders and knew she’d hit the mark. It was petty – she wasn’t trying to make him jealous – but that hint of disparagement had nettled her.
‘Good for you,’ he said and this time he did glance at her. ‘But I bet you’ll be glad to come home in August. Back to civilization.’
Leaving Brightwater Bay wasn’t something Merry had let herself think about lately. She’d got so used to her routine, to the peace and quiet that allowed her to plot and brainstorm and – most importantly of all – to write, that she felt an unsettling buzz of anxiety when she contemplated returning to the hustle and noise of London. No doubt she’d get used to city life again, and the creative block that had almost destroyed her seemed to have lifted so she hoped she’d be able to continue to write once she was back home, but there’d be a definite period of readjustment. And no matter how fast she settled into her old life again, she knew she’d never stop missing Orkney.
‘Maybe I’ll stay there,’ she said, and the words were out before she’d even had time to consider them.
Alex stopped browsing and stared at her. ‘Really?’
She didn’t know why she’d said it, the possibility hadn’t ever occurred to her until that moment. ‘Yes, maybe. It’s helped me focus on writing and I’ve made friends.’
‘You’ve got friends here,’ he said. ‘I can’t see Jess being happy if you move away permanently. And what about your publisher? Your even
ts?’
He sounded almost accusing. ‘It’s Scotland,’ Merry replied, ‘not Antarctica. I can be in London in five hours.’
The look he gave her was disbelieving, and suddenly she wanted him out of the flat. Out of her life again. Stepping forward, she pointed to the row of black-spined paperbacks that bore Mick Herron’s name. ‘These are what you’re looking for. Did you bring a bag, or shall I get you one?’
She found a cloth bag – a freebie from another signing – and tried not to mind the gap on the shelves once Alex had removed his books. He stood for a moment, the full bag weighing heavily from one hand, and studied her as though there was something more he wanted to say. But then he produced the boyish, rueful smile she’d known since school and shook his head. ‘Thanks for being so good about this. The books, I mean.’
‘No problem,’ Merry said. ‘Was there anything else?’
She could almost hear Jess groaning in her head. Don’t give him another opening!
‘No,’ Alex said, after a moment’s pause. ‘Just these.’
She followed him to the door, a weirdly formal gesture that underlined the fact that they weren’t much more than acquaintances now, and waited as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder.
‘It’s really good to see you, Mer,’ he said, his eyes warm. ‘Take care of yourself, okay?’
He kissed her cheek before she could stop him. She took an involuntary step back, restoring the distance between them, and she saw him notice.
‘You take care too,’ she said swiftly. ‘Bye, Alex.’
She shut the door fast, adding the chain for good measure although there was no danger Alex might come back in; he’d returned his key months ago. And then she turned and leant against the cool white wood, closing her eyes for a moment.
Coming Home to Brightwater Bay Page 20
