Sunset over Brightwater Bay Read online

  ‘Okay,’ she said, aware she’d been silent for too long. ‘I’ll leave my car here.’

  A wide smile appeared Alex’s face, as though he’d never doubted his ability to talk her round. ‘Great. You can explain those big stones by the side of the road – I assume they’re Orkney’s answer to Stonehenge.’

  ‘Something like that,’ Merry said, recalling Niall’s detailed description of what archaeologists thought the Stones of Stenness might have represented. ‘They’re pretty amazing, aren’t they?’

  Alex looked at her, shaking his head in obvious admiration. ‘Not as amazing as you.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ Merry said, hiding her discomfort behind an awkward smile. ‘We should probably get going. I’ll grab my coat.’

  She couldn’t tell whether it was because Alex was making a concerted effort, or whether she’d simply forgotten how charming he could be, but Merry found herself reluctantly enjoying his company on the journey to Kirkwall. He kept the conversation light, filling her in on various things he’d been doing in the months following the break-up. She was amazed to hear he’d booked on the National Three Peaks Challenge in September.

  ‘I know,’ he said when he caught her looking at him in open astonishment. ‘I surprised myself, to be honest. But Georgie from Accounts has raised over a thousand pounds for charity and I thought why not join her?’

  ‘But you’ve always hated walking,’ Merry pointed out. ‘Even when there was a pub at the end.’

  ‘And you’ve always hated running,’ Alex countered. ‘Yet here you are doing marathons.’

  Merry shook her head. ‘Half-marathons.’

  ‘Still bloody impressive,’ he said. ‘And my point is that people change. As evidenced by the fact that I’m going to be climbing three mountains in twenty-four hours when the nearest I’ve ever been to one in the past is Space Mountain on our Year 10 trip to Disneyland Paris.’

  Merry couldn’t repress a smile at the memory. ‘And you threw up immediately afterwards.’

  ‘Too much Cherry Tango,’ he replied solemnly. ‘I won’t make that mistake again.’

  The pub they’d agreed on was the Fisherman’s Rest, tucked away behind the busier main streets. Merry had suggested it partly because it wasn’t one of her regular haunts and partly because she knew there was no live music, unlike a number of other pubs in Kirkwall, so there would be no temptation to stay longer than necessary. She and Alex would also be able to hear each other speak, which was important. She didn’t want the horror of having to repeat herself when she told Alex he’d had a wasted trip in coming to Orkney.

  For all his enthusiasm to meet up and talk things through, Alex seemed in no hurry to raise the subject of their relationship, however. After getting drinks at the bar, he asked after Merry’s parents in Australia, and answered her questions about his own family, who still lived in the same Surrey town where he and Merry had grown up. That led to more reminiscences of their school days and, almost inevitably, memories of how they’d got together.

  ‘I fancied you for ages,’ Alex said with a rueful smile. ‘But you always had your nose in a book – I had to join Mr Tumelty’s book club to make you notice me.’

  He was wrong, Merry thought wistfully; she’d been aware of Alex in the same way that a moth noticed a flame. But, unlike the moth, she’d had a sense of self-preservation and had known better than to give in to the attraction. She had been bookish and quiet, while Alex had been cool and funny. She’d thought they had nothing in common at all, apart from being in the same year, and had admired him from afar for a long time. Then he’d materialized in the book club and her world had been turned upside down. At the time, she’d had no idea he was a reader and had expected him to stick around for one session and then get bored. But he’d returned, week after week, and had surprised everyone with his perceptive comments. Merry had fallen head over heels almost from the moment he walked into the library after school and had scarcely believed her ears when he’d asked her out. It had taken him three attempts to convince her he was serious; she’d felt like the heroine of a teen novel as he refused to give up. But there was no point in reminding him of any of that, she told herself sternly. It hadn’t stopped him from ending their relationship, sixteen years later, and it wasn’t enough to bring them back together now.

  ‘I never understood what you saw in me,’ she said, as briskly as she could. ‘But it’s all water under the bridge now.’

  ‘You were mysterious,’ Alex replied. ‘And you loved reading. Sometimes, I’d see you with a book I’d already read and I really wanted to ask what you thought of it.’ He paused and sighed. ‘With you, I didn’t have to be funny or loud. I could just be myself.’

  It was true that the Alex she’d got to know was different to the one he displayed in class. No one had expected them to last more than a few weeks but they’d surprised them all. And no one had been more surprised than Merry herself; she and Alex had been more alike than she’d dreamed possible. The weeks had turned into months, then years, and books had been the cornerstone of everything, especially when she got her first publishing deal. Alex had been thrilled to meet some of his favourite authors and loved being part of the literary scene, although he’d never wanted to write anything himself. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things had begun to change but she guessed it was when she’d started to struggle with writing. When she’d actually needed him, as Jess had often pointed out.

  Merry took a long sip of her gin and tonic and reminded herself that the past was the past. Straightening her shoulders, she mentally prepared to let Alex down but before she could speak, he leaned across the table. ‘Do you remember the first book we read after I joined the book club?’

  ‘Wuthering Heights,’ Merry replied before she could stop the words from tumbling out. ‘Mr Tumelty almost threw you out of the library for calling Heathcliff an arsehole.’

  ‘I stand by that opinion,’ Alex said. ‘In fact, I’m pretty sure he’d be considered a psychopath these days. But you didn’t agree.’

  Merry was embarrassed to recall that her teenage self had thought Heathcliff’s brooding desire was the pinnacle of romance and she’d defended him furiously against Alex’s outrageous accusation. It wasn’t until she’d re-read the novel, years later, that she’d realized he’d been absolutely right. ‘I agree now.’

  Alex nodded. ‘Like I said earlier, people change. It took me losing you to see what an arsehole I’d been.’ He held up a hand to stop Merry from interrupting. ‘Walking away is the last thing I should have done but I’m here now. And I always will be.’

  His face was alive with passion, reminding her of the boy she’d fallen in love with. She bit her lip, pushing the memory away. She had to stay strong, do what she’d come to do. ‘Alex, I—’

  ‘We were so good together,’ he went on, as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘And we’ll be even better when you come back home, especially now you’re over your health issues.’

  ‘Home,’ she echoed. ‘You mean London?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said impatiently. ‘Where else? It’s not as though there’s anything to keep you on Orkney – I thought maybe you’d met someone else but there’s no way that cottage is big enough for two.’

  She remembered the way he’d looked around the croft, sharp-eyed and inquisitive. What if it hadn’t been curiosity that had made him insist on driving out to pick her up, she thought with growing uneasiness. What if it had been naked self-interest?

  ‘We’re a great couple, Merry, everyone says so. Imagine us on the red carpet – you and me, dressed up to the nines with the world at our feet.’

  The words resounded in her head like a thunderclap. ‘The red carpet,’ she repeated slowly. ‘Why would we be on the red carpet?’

  ‘When your book gets made into a film,’ Alex said, a little frown creasing his forehead. ‘There’ll be a premiere, right?’

  Acid swirled in Merry’s stomach, causing an ache that had nothing to do with hunger. ‘
I didn’t know you’d heard about that. The producer hasn’t gone public yet.’

  Something shifted in Alex’s eyes, as though he realized he’d said the wrong thing. ‘Oh, right. I ran into Nick Borrowdale a few weeks ago – he asked me to pass on his congratulations and said to remind you that you owe him a drink.’

  And suddenly everything made sense. Jess had been right: he knew all about the film deal. That was what had really brought him back – the chance to bask in the lights of Hollywood – and everything else was just window dressing. For a moment, Merry wanted to cry. And then the anger hit – furious, white-hot rage that she’d almost been fooled. ‘I owe Nick more than a drink – I think I need to buy him a whole bottle,’ she said and was amazed to hear her voice was calm and level. ‘To think I believed you when you said you still loved me.’

  He gaped at her, colour rising in his cheeks. ‘What are you talking about? Of course I still love you. Would I have come all this way if I didn’t?’

  Merry stood up, gin in hand, and reached for her bag. ‘The only person you love is yourself, Alex. And for the record, you’re still an arsehole.’

  Alex tensed, clearly braced for her to throw the drink in his face, but instead she raised it to her mouth, drained it in one go, and swept from the pub.

  Chapter Three

  ‘I can’t believe you didn’t throw the drink.’

  Jess leaned against the grey stone wall beside the door that led into the Highland Park distillery and shook her head in wonderment. ‘You’re more merciful than me.’

  Merry managed a half-smile. ‘It wasn’t mercy. I just didn’t want to waste the gin.’

  ‘Good point,’ Jess conceded. ‘That snake isn’t worth the energy or the alcohol. But at least he made things easy for you, even though I know it hurts.’

  The astonishing thing was how much lighter Merry felt. It was as though a weight had been lifted, one she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying. And in its place there was a weariness, which had always been her reaction to stress, and anger that Alex had tried to play on her feelings, but she couldn’t say she was hurt. In fact, the overwhelming emotion she felt was relief. ‘You were right all along,’ she told Jess. ‘You’re always right, about everything.’

  Her best friend laughed. ‘Don’t give me too much credit. It’s easier to see what’s going on when you’re outside looking in.’

  Merry reached out and squeezed her arm in grateful thanks. ‘Where would I be without you?’

  ‘In a nearby hotel room, having mediocre make-up sex, I expect,’ Jess said, and glanced towards the half-open door to the distillery. ‘Why don’t you come in and celebrate the fact you’ve escaped that terrible fate?’

  The thought of facing Niall, who knew she’d been to meet Alex, was more than Merry could stand. ‘No, I couldn’t. I’ve already interrupted your tour.’

  Jess waved a dismissive hand. ‘Don’t worry about that – we’d finished the tour. Andrew was just about to open a bottle of the good stuff.’

  The good stuff being the forty-year-old single malt Merry had tried the last time she’d been to the distillery, which had in turn led to her accidentally drunk-dialling Magnús and belting out a belligerent accompaniment to Destiny’s Child. But that wouldn’t happen this time, she reminded herself. Apart from anything else, she’d deleted his number from her phone in case the drunken temptation to call had arisen again.

  Even so, she shook her head at Jess. ‘I can’t. Niall will work out what’s happened.’

  ‘So?’ Jess was looking at her as though she was crazy. ‘He’ll probably figure things out when I casually drop it into the conversation after you’ve gone.’

  Merry was aghast. ‘You wouldn’t.’

  ‘We both know I would,’ Jess replied serenely. ‘So you’d better come inside and keep an eye on me, hadn’t you?’

  ‘One drink,’ Merry said. ‘And then I’m getting a taxi and a takeaway, okay?’

  Jess held up her hands. ‘Absolutely, babes. Trust me, I’m your best friend.’

  * * *

  ‘Ohhhh, I am never drinking again.’

  Merry looked up from her laptop to see Jess framed in the doorway of the living room, her blonde hair tousled and a delicately pained look upon her face. ‘Morning,’ she said. ‘Or should I say afternoon?’

  ‘I don’t care what time of day it is, just make this hammering in my head stop, will you?’

  Pressing her lips together in sympathy, Merry patted the empty side of the sofa. ‘Why don’t you come and sit down? I’ll make you a coffee and find the painkillers.’

  A few minutes later, Jess was tucked up on the sofa with a mug of coffee on the table and two round ibuprofen in her hand. She tossed them down carefully, as she was worried her head might fall off if she moved too fast, and let out another heartfelt groan. ‘How come you don’t have a hangover?’

  ‘Because I learned my lesson last time,’ Merry answered. ‘I did try to warn you – Andrew’s measures are about a mile north of generous.’

  Jess winced. ‘There’s generous and then there’s reckless endangerment. I think I might need a new liver.’

  ‘You’ll feel better after a fry up,’ Merry said. ‘I popped up to the Watson’s farm earlier to pick up some bacon and eggs, if you fancy it?’

  ‘Maybe in a little while,’ Jess said, reaching for her coffee. ‘Once I’m sure I’m not actually going to die.’

  Smiling, Merry returned her attention to the piece she was writing for the Orkney Literary Society website. Part of her remit as Writer in Residence was to promote reading and writing among the island communities and, so far, she’d managed to produce a short story set on each of the islands she’d visited.

  ‘Was I very bad?’ Jess asked, after a few minutes had passed. ‘I remember singing along to something – that can’t have been good.’

  There had been singing and even some dancing, when they’d locked up the distillery and headed to Wrigley and the Reel, a nearby pub. The music was already in full swing when they arrived but they managed to squeeze in at the back of the hot and crowded room. Andrew had eventually been persuaded to join the musicians on guitar, and Merry had been amazed to discover Niall was an accomplished flute player. Most of the songs had been instrumental – a mixture of rollicking reels to get toes tapping and slower, more delicate melodies that held the audience spellbound – but there’d been one or two songs Merry had recognized, including a couple of singalongs. Jess had joined in with enthusiasm. Inevitably, they’d finished up dancing, despite the lack of room. It had made Merry look forward to the ceilidh Niall had organised to celebrate the end of her residency. And best of all, they’d been so busy having fun that she hadn’t thought of Alex once.

  She gave Jess a reassuring nod. ‘Oh, you were very good. It was a great night.’

  ‘I do remember laughing a lot,’ Jess said. She reached for her mug and managed a smile. ‘I suppose that’s worth the hangover from hell.’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Merry said. ‘You and Andrew seemed to hit it off.’

  Jess’s smile grew warmer. ‘Yeah, he was an unexpected bonus. I like a man who’s good with his hands.’ She took a sip of coffee. ‘Speaking of which, did I dream Niall’s fantastic fingering?’

  It took Merry a moment to understand she meant on the flute. ‘No,’ she said, fighting a blush at her own imagination. ‘He’s a very good flautist.’

  ‘I bet he is,’ Jess replied, arching an eyebrow. ‘Is there no end to the man’s talents?’

  Trust Jess to somehow make that sound rude, Merry thought wryly, and cleared her throat. ‘Do you remember meeting the presenter of Radio Orkney?’

  Jess squinted thoughtfully. ‘Young, dark-haired, extremely Scottish?’

  ‘That’s him,’ Merry confirmed. ‘He’s keen to record an interview with us, for broadcast one day this week, if you’re up for it?’

  ‘As long as it’s not today,’ she said with a shudder. ‘I don’t think I can be spa
rkling and professional while I’m wondering if I am going to throw up.’

  Merry pulled a sympathetic face. ‘No, not today. He gave me an email address so we can schedule something in for when you’re feeling better.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Jess grimaced. ‘Sometime next year should be fine.’ She paused and fired a direct look at Merry. ‘Speaking of feeling better, you seem pretty chilled this morning. No regrets about telling Alex where to shove his red carpet?’

  It was a good question, and one Merry wasn’t entirely sure she could answer. She’d replayed last night’s scene over and over in her head, and each time she had felt a resounding sense of rightness. But she’d be lying if she didn’t admit there was also a sadness, some lingering regret at the way things had turned out. Her feelings for Alex had changed but they had still been together a long time. And they’d been happy for at least some of it.

  ‘No,’ she said cautiously, picking her way through her own jumbled emotions. ‘I almost messaged him this morning, to check he was okay, but decided against it.’

  ‘Good,’ Jess said. ‘He doesn’t deserve your concern. Forget him.’

  It wasn’t the first time Jess had told her to put Alex out of her head – she’d been adamant for months that the break-up was a blessing in disguise. Meeting Magnús had helped Merry to believe she might fall in love again but he’d left just as things were heating up between them. And despite knowing the reasons he’d ended their burgeoning relationship were sensible and fair, there was still a tiny part of her that wondered whether there was something wrong with her. It had left a tiny chink in her armour, one Alex had managed to find and try to exploit but catching him out had given her the strength to close the door on him for the last time.

  ‘Believe me, I’m done,’ she said emphatically. ‘With men in general too.’

  ‘Let’s not go that far.’ Jess flashed her an encouraging smile and then lifted a hand to her temple. ‘Now, where can we find a time machine? I want to warn Past Me to beware Orcadians bearing whisky.’