Coming Home to Brightwater Bay

by Holly Hepburn

  ‘I don’t feel like I could take on the world,’ she admitted to Jess. ‘Right now, I’m not even sure I can handle the drive home.’

  ‘That’s easily fixed at least,’ Jess replied, getting to her feet. ‘I should probably tell Niall his writer is still in residence, anyway – I think he was worried Alex might sweep you off your feet and whisk you back to London.’

  A moment later she was gone, leaving Merry to cringe inwardly with embarrassment. Niall Gunn was the link between her and the Orkney Literary Society, which funded the Writer in Residence scheme, and she couldn’t help wondering what he thought of this latest twist in her tangled love life. Surely none of the previous incumbents had caused this much drama, she thought with another rush of mortification. He’d probably let out a long sigh of relief when her residency finished at the end of July.

  Those fears were exacerbated when Niall arrived with Jess a few minutes later.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ he asked. ‘Jess says you’re not feeling too good.’

  His manner was as professional as ever but Merry was certain there was an unfamiliar coolness in his blue eyes. She dredged up what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘I’m fine, honestly. It’s just—’ Her voice wavered and she felt the smile slip as an unexpected gush of emotion bubbled up inside her. ‘It’s just been a long and slightly overwhelming evening.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, I can appreciate that. Why don’t I drive you both back to Brightwater Bay? The Mini will be fine in the staff car park – we can sort out collection tomorrow.’

  ‘I grabbed your bag,’ Jess said, holding up Merry’s battered but much-loved Mulberry. ‘Was there anything else?’

  ‘No, just that,’ Merry said. She took the bag gratefully before turning her attention back to Niall. ‘There’s really no need for you to come all the way to the croft. I’m sure I can manage the drive.’

  ‘It’s no trouble,’ he replied, a slight frown creasing his forehead. ‘As you said, it’s been a long evening and it’s my job to get you home safely, so I’m afraid I’ll have to insist.’

  And that made Merry feel even worse. Of course, he was just doing his job but seriously, just how much of a liability did he think she was?

  As usual, Jess read her mind. ‘You’ve had a shock, Mer. I’d drive if I could but, obviously, I’m not insured for the Mini. Let’s get back to the croft and we can chill out over a glass of whisky and some cheese.’

  Weariness washed over Merry again and she realized she was too worn out to argue. What she wanted most was the solitude of the bench that overlooked Brightwater Bay, where the sea-faring birds would be settling down for the night as the sun finally sank beyond the Atlantic Ocean. That, coupled with the whisky Jess had suggested, might help her come to terms with the turn her evening had taken. And if all else failed, she’d undoubtedly feel better in the morning. As long as she and Jess didn’t get carried away with the drinking…

  ‘Okay,’ she said, and did her best to smile. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’ll just make sure Callum is happy to lock up,’ Niall said. ‘Why don’t I meet you in the car park?’

  Whether by accident or design, neither Jess nor Niall spoke much on the journey back to the croft. Usually, Niall would point out interesting features of the landscape or tell stories about the landmarks they were passing, but this evening he was quiet. Merry allowed her eyes to close as she rested her head against the passenger seat and let the steady thrum of the engine soothe her. Before she knew it, Niall was turning down the narrow lane that led to Brightwater Bay.

  ‘Thank you,’ Merry said as he pulled up beside the croft. ‘Both for delivering a brilliant author event and for bringing us back here.’

  ‘As I said earlier, it’s no trouble,’ Niall reassured her. Then his gaze flickered to Jess in the rear-view mirror and he half turned. ‘See you tomorrow, then. About ten?’

  Merry frowned. Tomorrow? They didn’t have any plans involving Niall for tomorrow. Had she forgotten an event? But Jess didn’t seem confused; Merry twisted in her seat just in time to see her best friend bob her head.

  ‘Sure,’ Jess said. ‘Can’t wait.’

  Niall smiled. ‘Great.’ He gave Merry an enquiring look. ‘Maybe I can take you into Kirkwall once I’ve brought Jess back, so you can pick up the Mini.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Merry echoed, now thoroughly bewildered. Brought Jess back from where, exactly? But whatever their plans were, they didn’t seem to include her and it felt oddly intrusive to ask. Instead, she gathered up her bag and reached for the door handle. ‘Anyway, thanks again.’

  She almost expected Jess to linger in the car but she hopped smartly out and followed Merry to the croft. Focusing on unlocking the door, Merry didn’t turn to wave at Niall as he started to reverse away and stayed silent as she flicked on the lights and dropped her bag onto the sofa. It shouldn’t bother her that Jess and Niall had plans to do something without her; apart from anything else, she was due to go for a run with her neighbour, Sheila, in the morning. But there was a tiny, unreasonable part of her that was irritated. And she didn’t understand why.

  ‘Valkyrie?’ Jess suggested, stripping off her jacket and hanging it on the hooks by the front door. ‘Or do we need to bring out the big guns and go straight to the tequila?’

  Merry glanced out of the living room window, towards the bench at the edge of the cliffs. There’d been plenty of nights she’d grabbed a cosy woollen throw and sat outside with a drink until the stars began to glimmer overhead. In fact, up until five minutes ago that was exactly what she’d planned to do, with Jess by her side. But now all she wanted to do was sink into bed and close her eyes.

  ‘Do you mind if we skip the drinks and post-mortem?’ she called, striving to keep her voice light. ‘I think I need an early night.’

  ‘Of course, I don’t mind,’ Jess said, following her into the room. ‘Niall’s showing me round Skara Brae tomorrow and you know I’m not normally a morning person. An early night suits me too.’

  The words caused another barrage of little needles to prick at Merry’s nerves. She did her best to ignore them. It made total sense for Niall to be taking Jess to Skara Brae, the way he’d taken Merry when she’d first arrived on Orkney. ‘You’ll have a great time,’ she said, hoping her tone was less wooden than it felt. ‘Niall really brings the history to life.’

  But Jess was adept at reading between the lines. A slow frown creased her forehead. ‘You don’t mind us going without you, do you? I didn’t think you’d be up for it since you’ve already been.’

  It was the kind of place she could visit over and over and still see something she’d missed, Merry thought, especially when Niall was her guide, but she didn’t say it. The last thing she wanted was for Jess to decide that she was – well – jealous or something equally ridiculous. ‘No,’ she said carefully. ‘I don’t mind. And I have a run planned, anyway – an eight-miler with Sheila. She’ll hunt me down if I miss it.’

  ‘Okay. We could all go somewhere for lunch when we’re finished,’ Jess suggested.

  It was a nice idea, and just a few hours earlier, Merry would have liked nothing better. But now she just did her best to smile. ‘Perhaps. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.’

  She still felt shivery when she got into bed fifteen minutes later, but the cotton sheets felt like silk against her skin and she’d never been more grateful to lower her head to the pillow. An epic yawn caught her by surprise; events were tiring at the best of times, she thought, but even more so when an ex-fiancé crashed the party and stirred up a whole host of feelings she thought she’d forgotten. It wasn’t the time to think about Alex, she told herself wearily – the only thing that would do was ensure she lay awake all night. But in spite of her determination to give her exhausted brain some rest, it took Merry a long while to fall asleep. And just before the darkness came to claim her, a face flashed into her mind and almost jolted her into wakefulness. But it wasn’t Alex who drifted in and out of her dreams until daw
n. It was Niall.

  * * *

  ‘And I’ll tell you something else: she’s not quite what I expected.’

  They were two miles into their regular Sunday morning run along the cliffs and Merry was starting to wonder whether Sheila might sing Jess’s praises for the entire duration. It wasn’t that Merry minded hearing how much her neighbour had enjoyed their joint author event the night before – far from it – but Sheila never usually talked this much on a run. In fact, by this point she had usually grown bored of Merry’s slower pace and abandoned her to lope off into the distance. So it was something of a surprise that she seemed inclined to chat now, on a day when Merry was secretly craving the silence and headspace that running normally gave her.

  ‘I mean, I thought she’d be sharp,’ Sheila went on conversationally. ‘It’s obvious from the way she writes that she’s very clever. But she’s funny and charming with it, so you don’t notice her mentally running rings around you, and then there’s the way she looks. I imagine she stole a few hearts last night.’

  Merry concentrated on navigating the springy, heather-laden ground beneath her trainers. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before – Jess was never short of admirers – but she couldn’t help wondering if Sheila had noticed any hearts in particular being stolen. Nevertheless, she stored the comments away to pass on to Jess later. ‘I’ll tell her you said so.’

  Sheila nodded, almost to herself. ‘Aye, she’s got a good head on her shoulders, that one.’

  Merry considered some of the awkward scrapes she and Jess had got themselves into over the years and tried not to smile. Her best friend’s famous sense of adventure meant she never held back but Merry couldn’t deny she was equally good at getting herself out of trouble. ‘Most of the time,’ she said to Sheila.

  They ran on in silence for a few minutes, settling into an even pace, and Merry began to think her companion had finally grown tired of talking. But it appeared she was wrong – Sheila had something else on her mind.

  ‘So was that the infamous Alex last night?’

  Merry wanted to groan. The crowds had begun to thin by the time Alex had made his sudden appearance and she’d hoped Sheila and the rest of her eagle-eyed friends might have missed it, but no such luck. There was no point in pretending it had been someone else; news travelled fast on Orkney and Sheila had probably already tapped into the community network to establish where Alex was staying, how long he was staying and how many eggs he’d had for breakfast.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I thought it must be,’ Sheila replied, managing to sound satisfied and disapproving at the same time. ‘I said to Bridget, he looks like the type to break a woman’s heart. Eyes too close together, I told her. Untrustworthy.’

  The last word rolled off her tongue with such emphasis that it seemed to linger in the crisp morning air. And as always, the criticism evoked an instant desire in Merry to defend Alex. ‘Really? I’ve always liked his eyes.’

  Sheila threw her a sideways look. ‘Clearly, since you were prepared to marry him. But he’s no Magnús, is he?’

  It was on the tip of Merry’s tongue to point out that Magnús hadn’t proved to be a good long-term romantic prospect either, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. The circumstances of his departure from Orkney had been out of his control and he’d left to do the honourable thing, to care for his ailing mother; there was no way Merry could fault him for that, no matter how disappointed she’d been when he’d gone.

  ‘Or Niall, for that matter,’ Sheila went on with barely a pause. ‘I’ve known him his whole life and I can tell you now, he’s steadier than the stones at Stenness.’

  Steady. That was exactly the right word for Niall. He’d certainly been her rock since she’d come to Orkney, although she was more aware than ever that it was his job to support her. But Alex had been steady too, for the best part of sixteen years.

  ‘Not that Niall is boring, mind,’ Sheila continued. ‘I know it can seem like he’s married to his job but that’s just his passion for Orkney.’

  ‘I can certainly understand that,’ Merry said. ‘It’s the kind of place that inspires passion.’

  It most certainly was, she thought, watching a cluster of guillemots soar across the cornflower sky. She’d done plenty of research before her residency had begun but nothing could have prepared her for just how beautiful the islands were and there was still a lot that she hadn’t seen. Orkney had worked its magic on her, encouraging her creativity to flow and teaching her to believe in love again. She’d hoped to find the peace and quiet to get over her writer’s block; she hadn’t expected to find serenity.

  ‘You’ll miss it when you go back to London.’

  Merry felt the same hard knot in her stomach that had become familiar whenever she thought about leaving Orkney. How would she cope without her view of Brightwater Bay each morning? Without the wild, exhilarating freedom that came when she ran along the cliffs? London had plenty of parks, and her flat in Chiswick wasn’t far from the river, but it couldn’t offer the same spectacular views that blessed her running here. And what if her rediscovered ability to write depended somehow on this remarkable place? Even so, she knew she couldn’t stay – the residency was coming to an end and the rest of her life lay in London. She had to go back.

  She squashed the knot down and summoned up a smile. ‘I will miss it. Maybe even Gordon.’

  The glance Sheila tossed over one shoulder was speculative. ‘I daresay Alex knows that too. Which is why I imagine he’s turned up now, to remind you where your home is.’

  He hadn’t said it in so many words but it had definitely been there in the subtext, Merry thought. It’ll be just like it was, Mer – you and me with London at our feet.

  ‘Look, you can tell me to mind my own business if you like,’ Sheila began, with the kind of placid confidence that suggested no one ever had. ‘But when you get to my age you realize it’s better to be blunt and it seems to me that Alex is part of your past, not your future. And it doesn’t matter where you’re actually living – you’ve moved on.’

  ‘That’s pretty much what Jess says,’ Merry conceded, remembering all the times her best friend had expressed the same sentiment in the months following the break-up.

  ‘Well, then,’ Sheila said. ‘Great minds think alike. Do yourself a favour and tell Alex that ship has sailed.’

  Merry opened her mouth to reply but the other woman wasn’t finished. ‘And make sure you don’t miss your own ship,’ she said, with another shrewd look. ‘There’s nothing worse than a lifetime of regret because you didn’t quite have the courage to reach for what you want. Believe me, I know.’

  With that final cryptic comment, she lengthened her stride and began to pull away from Merry. ‘Say hullo to Jess, won’t you?’ she called as the distance between them grew. ‘Remind her she promised to put me in her next book!’

  Merry watched her go, then checked her watch; if she wanted to go for lunch with Jess and Niall, she should turn back now. But that would mean a six-mile run rather than eight, and her head was still a jumble of thoughts and emotions that she was struggling to untangle. Perhaps another mile might give her some much-needed clarity, she pondered, although she’d be cutting it fine for making herself presentable enough for lunch. Then again, it was unlikely Jess and Niall would finish early at Skara Brae and altogether possible they’d be late themselves. Turning her face to the sun, Merry began another mile.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  There was no sign of Niall’s car when Merry puffed into view of the croft. Wincing at the ache in her legs, she leaned against the door, first gripping one ankle and then the other to stretch her tired muscles. She had run further than she’d intended – over ten miles – and now it was almost midday and she had very little time to shower before Jess and Niall returned. But she felt better for the longer run, clearer-headed, at any rate, and she was more than ready for lunch.

  By the time she’d taken a hurried shower and dre
ssed, there was still no sign of Jess and Niall. Merry reached for her phone, expecting to see a message from Jess explaining they’d been held up. Instead, she found a message from Alex.

  Dinner tonight? I’d love to see you if you’re free x

  She stared at it for several long seconds, trying to work out how she felt. A significant chunk of her run had been spent sifting through her emotions over Alex’s surprise appearance and Sheila’s advice had lingered long after the older woman had vanished over the horizon. Tell Alex that ship has sailed, she’d said, and Merry had arrived at the inescapable conclusion she was talking sense. But that was before this message, with the single kiss that he’d only taken to adding since their break-up. Merry’s finger hovered over the screen. Should she reply with a bright and breezy Thanks but no thanks? Or accept the invitation so that she could give Alex the news in person? She probably owed him that much. The trouble was that dinner with Alex would mean abandoning Jess for the evening, which hardly felt fair; Jess was only on Orkney for a few days, after all. But Alex wasn’t going to be around for long either – maybe she should deal with him first. Merry sighed and rubbed her temples. Life seemed suddenly a lot more complicated than it had twenty-four hours earlier.

  She was saved from sinking further into the agony of indecision by the sound of a car drawing up outside. Stuffing her phone into her bag, she got up and hurried to the door, only to meet Jess on the doorstep.

  ‘Sorry, need a wee,’ Jess gasped, squeezing past her. ‘Long queue – thought I could wait but we got held up on the way back.’

  Merry winced in sympathy. ‘Poor you. Take your time – I’ll see you in the car.’

  Niall smiled as she opened the rear passenger door and slid along the back seat. ‘Hello. How was your run? Has Sheila talked you into the London Marathon yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Merry said, knowing he was only half joking. ‘I think she’s biding her time, waiting until my guard is down. How was Skara Brae?’