Coming Home to Brightwater Bay Read online

  ‘Probably,’ Merry said dryly.

  She used the time it took them to cross the Arrivals hall to study Niall Gunn more closely. He wore a dark grey suit with a crisp white shirt and polished black shoes, all of which she found distinctly un-librarianish. The black-rimmed glasses were entirely on brand, however, and as she came to a halt in front of him, she saw they framed sea-blue eyes lined with thick dark lashes that most women she knew would kill for. She wouldn’t mind betting that there were one or two library users who came not to borrow books, but to gaze at the librarian instead.

  ‘Hello, Merina,’ he said, with another flash of a smile. ‘Welcome to Orkney.’

  Merry opened her mouth to reply but Bridget beat her to it, clearing her throat in the most meaningful way and staring pointedly at the sign Niall held. His smile faltered a little and he looked down. A hot red stain crept up his neck as he realized his mistake and he turned the cardboard up the right way. ‘Sorry.’

  He looked so mortified that Merry couldn’t help feeling it rub off on her; an answering blush warmed her own cheeks and she hastened to put him at ease. ‘Don’t worry. I speak Australian.’

  As soon as the words left her mouth, she started to cringe – Bridget was giving her the oddest look. But Niall’s mouth twitched and he broke into a wide grin that made Merry’s embarrassment subside. They stood smiling at each other for a few seconds, then Bridget cleared her throat again. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Lovely to meet you, Mary, dear. I look forward to finding out all about your books.’

  She nodded to Niall, her disapproval still evident, and beetled for the exit. Niall studied Merry, a quizzical expression in his eyes. ‘Did she just call you Mary?’

  ‘Happens a lot,’ Merry said. ‘I usually shorten Merina to Merry, but people often struggle with it and Mary is a much more sensible name. Still, it’s better than the Christmas jokes I used to get at school.’

  Niall raised a sympathetic eyebrow. ‘Only at school?’

  ‘And occasionally at book signings,’ she admitted with a good-natured sigh. ‘Usually from older men accompanying their wives, all of whom think they’re the first person ever to make the joke.’

  He nodded. ‘So, what would you prefer me to call you? Merina?’

  She liked the way it sounded with his gentle Scottish burr – slower and softer than with an English accent – but it was far too formal for everyday use. ‘Merry is fine.’

  ‘Welcome to Orkney, Merry,’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘Thank you for agreeing to be our Writer in Residence.’

  She took his outstretched fingers, which were long and perfect for running along the spines of books, and shook them. ‘Thank you for allowing me to come. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to my time here.’

  He let go of her hand and tucked the sign under one elbow before reaching to take one of her suitcases. ‘I hope you’re going to like it. I think it’s one of the most beautiful places in the world, but I suppose I’m biased, having been born and raised here.’ Pausing, he fired an enquiring look her way. ‘Ready to see the croft?’

  Merry smiled, remembering Bridget’s description of the cottage and its previous owner. ‘Ready.’

  He led her out of tiny Kirkwall Airport towards the car park. Merry shivered in the chilly February air and pulled her scarf closer to her neck; the weak winter sun was doing nothing to lift the temperature and it somehow felt much colder than London despite the temperature being only a degree or so lower. Perhaps it was the freshness of the air, she thought; there was a crispness to it that caught in her lungs when she took a breath. Whatever the reason, she was going to need a bigger coat.

  ‘It’s about a thirty-minute drive to Brightwater Bay,’ Niall explained, as he negotiated the exit and followed the signs for Kirkwall. ‘I thought you’d like to settle in this evening, so I’ve taken the liberty of buying a few essentials – milk, bread, cheese, that kind of thing.’ He hesitated, then cast an enquiring glance her way. ‘And I know it’s Sunday tomorrow, but the library will be closed and I’ll have some free time, so I thought I could give you the grand tour, if you like? Help you get your bearings.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Merry said, tearing her gaze from the passing scenery to smile at him. ‘That all sounds great. Although I could wait until Monday if you’d prefer – I’d hate to make you work on your day off.’

  ‘It’s no bother,’ he replied easily. ‘I’m happy to do what I can to make the island feel like home.’

  Home, Merry echoed in her head, and forced down the faint stir of uneasiness the word created deep inside her. Home had always meant Alex and although she’d gradually adjusted to his absence in London, it felt strange to think of somewhere new in that way. But Niall was right – this was her home now, at least for the next six months. The sooner she started thinking of it that way, the better. ‘Well, thank you,’ she said again. ‘I appreciate it.’

  Niall nodded. ‘The croft is a little bit remote, on the west coast up near Marwick, but you’ve got a few neighbours nearby in case of emergencies. And, of course, I’m only a phone call away – you’ve got my mobile number.’

  She had – it had been in one of the many emails he’d sent and she’d saved it in her contacts as Niall the Librarian. But she couldn’t imagine what kind of emergencies he expected her to have between now and the morning. The long journey from London had started early and taken its toll on her, especially the terrifying final leg. Merry was planning a hot bath and an early night, both of which she anticipated would be entirely emergency free. But she knew he was just trying to be a good host and put her at ease in a strange new place, and for that she was grateful.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘It all sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to see more of your beautiful island.’

  His beaming smile told her it had been exactly the right thing to say.

  * * *

  The next thirty minutes zoomed by as Niall pointed out landmarks and places of interest from the car windows, all illuminated by the slowly setting sun.

  ‘I love this time of day,’ Merry said, during a brief lull in the conversation. ‘The last hour before the sun sets is pretty extraordinary – everything shimmers with gold and nothing seems dull or mundane.’

  ‘There’s not much about Orkney that’s mundane,’ he said and, once again, Merry detected the pride in his voice. ‘If you’re looking for the extraordinary, you’ve come to the right place.’

  The sun was very low on the horizon when they arrived at the croft but the view from the cliff still took Merry’s breath away. She barely glanced at her new home; all her attention was taken by the amber and pink skies over the gunmetal grey waves that were only a stone’s throw away from the tiny cottage, and the orange-red sun hovering on the edge of the world. She walked towards the wooden fence that ran along the clifftop as though drawn by an invisible thread, her gaze fixed on the beauty laid out before her. The only sounds were the cries of the guillemots circling overhead and the crash of the sea as it pounded against the sandstone cliffs. Light danced across the rolling waves and she could see how the bay had got its name; the water sparkled and burned beneath the sinking sun. It was a world away from Chiswick, with its busy coffee shops and endless traffic, Merry thought, and for the first time in for ever, she felt a sense of peace creep over her frayed and jangling nerves.

  Seeming to sense she wanted to be alone, Niall immediately vanished inside the stone cottage and she was barely aware of the car doors opening and closing as he retrieved her cases and whatever he deemed as essential to her settling in. It was only when the last of the sun’s rays had died away and darkness was stretching out its fingers that he approached her, carrying a torch to light the bumpy grass under their feet.

  ‘Sorry,’ she called, once he was near enough to hear her. ‘I’m afraid I got swept away by the gorgeousness of that sunset.’

  She saw his teeth flash in the gathering gloom. ‘Completely understandable,’ he said, and his voice was w
arm. ‘It gets me like that sometimes too. Are you ready to come inside now, or should I give you a few more minutes?’

  A puff of wind blew up out of nowhere, and Merry realized the temperature had dropped again. She shivered. ‘No, I’m ready to go inside.’

  Niall pointed the torch towards her feet. ‘I’ve lit the fire and made a pot of tea – I hope you don’t mind?’

  Merry laughed. ‘Not at all! I wouldn’t have the first clue how to get a fire going – it’s not a skill I’ve ever really needed. And tea is always welcome.’

  Light spilled from the windows and open door of the croft, outlining it with an inviting glow against the velvety-blue dusk. There was no danger of light pollution here, mused Merry; the stars would be spectacular when they came out. She was looking forward to taking them in. Once upon a time she’d taken herself off to sleep in a tower in Norfolk to learn the names and positions of all the constellations, because a character in a book had been a cosmologist and she’d needed to know. That was back in the days when writing was something that filled her with joy, when the mere thought of creating a new world didn’t cause her heart to flutter inside her chest like a trapped bird.

  Niall shifted beside her, causing Merry to cringe. What must he think of her? First, she’d walked off to stare at the sunset without a single word of explanation and now she was standing gawping at the croft like she’d never seen a building before. ‘Sorry,’ she apologized again. ‘I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just I’m—’

  ‘Taking it all in?’ he suggested, and his tone was gentle. ‘Don’t worry, I know the feeling well. But the tea will be stewed if we leave it much longer and I don’t want you to describe me as a complete heathen to your friends and family.’

  She did her best to smile, although she wasn’t at all sure he could see it. ‘The fact that you’ve lit the fire and made the tea at all makes you a hero in my book,’ she said, blowing on her chilly fingers to warm them up. ‘But you’re absolutely right, it would be a waste to let it stew.’

  Inside, the cottage was as snug as she’d expected, but the atmosphere was warm and homely. The door opened straight into the tiny living room; its floor was made of heavy grey flagstones and spread with thick, brightly coloured rugs, and the walls were bare stone. It should have radiated cold but that seemed to be kept at bay by the roaring flames in the fireplace that lined one wall. Merry glimpsed a radiator under the burnt-orange brocade curtains that covered the window and felt a quick flash of gratitude that she wouldn’t be reliant on her non-existent fire-starting skills for warmth in the mornings. A small, two-seater sofa faced a flat-screen TV and a tall bookshelf stood against the inner wall, carrying row after row of books. Merry couldn’t resist a quick glance across the spines, instinctively looking for her own titles, even though she knew it was unlikely they’d be here.

  Niall saw her looking. ‘Just a random selection of the second-hand books that get donated to the library,’ he said, half apologetically. ‘You might have seen similar bookshelves by the seating areas at the airport gates – I like to give people the opportunity to pick up a book whenever they can.’

  Merry smiled. ‘I’m sure they’re grateful. I know I am.’

  A look of unmistakable pleasure tinged his face. ‘The kitchen is this way.’

  He led her through to a small hallway with doors that she assumed opened into the bedroom and bathroom. The kitchen was even smaller than Merry had anticipated; she took in the basic appliances and obvious lack of storage space and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted at least a slender dishwasher. It might not be as well-equipped as her own back in Chiswick, but it would do. And best of all, steam drifted from the spout of a teapot dressed in a red and blue knitted tea-cosy, which sat in the centre of the round kitchen table, flanked by two pottery mugs and a jug of milk.

  ‘Is that… a Captain America tea-cosy?’ she asked with a curious sideways glance. Admittedly, she didn’t know much about the croft’s previous resident, but he hadn’t sounded much like an Avengers fan.

  Niall looked simultaneously pleased and embarrassed that she’d recognized the design. ‘It is – my granny knitted it for me. She’s a big Marvel fan – a bit like me. Anyway, I’ve got plenty of others if it’s not to your taste.’

  Merry licked her lips, suddenly thirsty, and realized she’d had nothing to eat or drink since leaving Aberdeen. ‘God, no, it’s perfect,’ she said, reaching for the teapot. ‘Do you mind if I pour? I’m desperate for a cuppa.’

  As they sipped the tea – still piping hot – Niall did his best to describe the layout of the island. Merry listened, trying to picture the scattered towns and landmarks he mentioned; she recognized some from her own research, but others were new to her. Eventually a yawn escaped her. ‘Sorry – it’s been a long day.’

  He drained his mug and placed it on the table, before getting to his feet. ‘Of course it has. I’ll leave you to get some rest.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Merry said. ‘You’ve been so kind and generous with your time.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said, tipping his head. ‘What time would you like me to collect you tomorrow? You have your own car in the shed, of course, but it would be easier if I show you round a bit before expecting you to find your way on your own.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Merry said, grateful all over again for his thoughtfulness. ‘Is ten o’clock okay?’

  ‘Perfect,’ Niall replied, smiling. ‘See you in the morning, Merry. Sleep well.’

  The cottage felt very empty once he’d gone, uncomfortably reminding Merry of the way the flat had been in the early days after Alex had left. She pushed the thought away, reminding herself that this was a fresh start, and turned the large iron key in the lock of the door, although she doubted she needed to – who was going to come rattling the door handle all the way out here? Then she set about exploring the rest of her new home.

  Niall had placed her cases in the bedroom, which also contained a comfortable-looking double bed with a surprisingly soft tartan throw, and whitewashed wardrobes set into the wall. It was the bathroom that pleased her the most, however, with its claw-footed bathtub that was entirely impractical in the small space and the most welcome sight she’d seen all day, alongside the tarmac at Kirkwall Airport. Merry twisted the hot tap and was gratified to see a plume of steaming water gush into the white enamel depths. Then her stomach chose that moment to remind her she hadn’t eaten for hours; she left the bath running and went to see what food Niall had given her.

  The fridge held butter, cheese, milk and a brown paper bag filled with assorted vegetables. She discovered bread and eggs on the worktop next to the tea and coffee, along with a bottle of Highland Park single malt whisky with a handwritten label that simply said ‘Enjoy!’ It was a thoughtful gift and one Merry decided it would be rude not to sample before she went to bed.

  She threw together a quick omelette, eaten with doorstep wedges of crusty fresh bread and butter, and allowed herself an hour-long wallow in the bath. Then she pulled on her pyjamas and poured a generous measure of Scotch into a glass, before flopping onto the sofa in front of the warm glow of the fire. Her laptop sat on the coffee table, unopened since she’d left London. Pushing down an all-too-familiar surge of guilt, Merry covered it with a Discover Scotland magazine and reached for her phone instead to check for messages. There were three from her best friend, Jess, each one increasing in urgency.

  I miss you already. Let me know when you get there x

  How’s the journey? Met any hot Scottish lairds yet? x

  Have you fallen off the edge of the world? Been eaten by a polar bear? Text me to say you’re OK! x

  Smiling, Merry snapped a photo of her glass silhouetted against the fire and sent it back with the words:

  Still alive. No polar bears so far but I do have whisky. Cheers! X

  Jess responded instantly.

  Does that mean there are hot lairds? x

  Merry shook her head in wry amusement; Jess had been insis
tent that the best way to get over Alex was to get under someone else but Merry had resisted all her best friend’s well-meaning encouragement to start dating again. It was too soon and, besides, she was only on Orkney for six months; the last thing she needed was another doomed love affair.

  None at all. Sorry to disappoint! x

  Placing her phone on the table, she nestled into the squashy cushions behind her. It was weird to think it would be months before she saw Jess again, she thought, raising her drink and savouring the bitter heat as it flowed across her taste buds. And weirder still to think of all the book launches and parties Jess would go to without her. Merry had been so absent from the publishing merry-go-round since the break-up that she doubted many of her fellow writers would even notice she’d vanished to Orkney, but she was going to miss the social side of her career. Jess had kept her in the loop; there’d always been something going on – the safety net of something she could go to, if she chose to.

  Merry tipped her head, listening to the lazy crackle of the fire and the utter silence beyond it. She was in the middle of nowhere here, with no friends and no party invitations, but wasn’t that the point? She’d come to Orkney to escape publishing, to get away from her old life and rediscover what made her feel alive. More importantly, to find out whether she’d lost the thing that had always made her feel most like herself: her ability to write. And maybe, just maybe, to mend the gaping hole where Alex had once been.

  ‘No regrets,’ she told herself firmly, just as her phone vibrated to tell her she had a new message. It was Jess, of course.

  Give it time. No regrets? X

  The coincidence made Merry smile. It was the kind of thing that happened all the time between her and Jess – they’d been known to finish each other’s sentences and crack the same joke at exactly the same time. Her fingers moved swiftly across the screen:

  No! Not yet anyway x

  The yawn overtook her just as she was swirling the whisky around her glass, admiring its amber glow in the firelight. She was exhausted, she realized, suddenly barely able to keep her eyes open. With a sigh, she downed the last of her drink and made her way to the bedroom, where she pulled back the heavy woollen throw to slide beneath the thick goose-down duvet. She closed her eyes with a long, weary sigh as sleep came to claim her. And for the first time in months, she didn’t mind the emptiness on the other side of the bed.