Sunset over Brightwater Bay Read online

  * * *

  The BBC Radio Orkney studios were on Castle Street in Kirkwall. It wasn’t Merry’s first visit – she’d recorded several interviews with the station’s main reporter, Fraser Ferguson, and he’d always been warm and friendly, with the kind of dry sense of humour that would have fitted right in at the Edinburgh Fringe. She’d encouraged Jess to listen to an episode of the daily news bulletin, Around Orkney, so she’d know what to expect but Jess had raised her eyebrows.

  ‘I’ve done loads of regional radio interviews,’ she’d said. ‘I know the drill.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ Merry had answered with a rueful smile. ‘I guarantee none of them have been quite like this one will be.’

  On Tuesday morning, Fraser greeted them in the reception of the old bank building, which still had its original safe on display, and led them upstairs to the broadcast studio.

  ‘We’ve finished today’s show so we have the run of this studio until it’s needed for the news update at lunchtime,’ he said, ushering them into seats on the other side of the mixing desk. ‘If you pop those headphones on, we’ll just do a quick sound check.’

  ‘So far, so normal,’ Jess murmured to Merry, after Fraser had offered them water and made sure they were comfortable.

  ‘Wait,’ Merry whispered back.

  ‘Ready?’ he asked, glancing back and forth between them.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Jess said, and flashed her most charming smile. ‘Ready, willing and able, as Doris Day used to say.’

  Fraser pulled his headphones over one ear and grinned. ‘Then let the games begin.’ He swiped a hand across the mixing desk and leaned into the microphone. ‘Love is in the air today as I’m joined in the studio by not one but two Queens of Hearts. Regular listeners will remember hearing from Orkney’s current Writer in Residence, Merina Wilde, but today she is joined by her close friend, fellow romance writer Jessie Edwards. Good morning, ladies, and welcome to BBC Radio Orkney.’

  Both women returned the greeting and Merry barely had time to register a wide-eyed glance from Jess before Fraser was posing his opening question.

  ‘So, Jessie, how does it feel to be the most stolen author in Orkney Library?’

  Jess didn’t miss a beat. ‘It feels pretty amazing, to be honest,’ she said in a tone that held a definite undercurrent of amusement. ‘Obviously I don’t condone any criminal activity but I must admit it’s quite gratifying to be so – well – desirable.’

  Fraser nodded, his eyes dancing with delight. ‘You certainly seem to be that,’ he said, and glanced at Merry. ‘I understand from our esteemed librarian, Niall Gunn, that library borrowing and reader engagement have both significantly increased in the five months you’ve been Writer in Residence, Merina. What do you think you’ve done to have such a dramatic effect?’

  Merry took a deep breath. ‘I can’t take all the credit but I think it’s a combination of different things – a range of interesting events and workshops at the library, plus I’ve tried to get out and about as much as I could, to meet people and get to know them.’ She paused. ‘And, of course, the community here on Orkney is wonderful. I’ve never felt more welcome – I count myself very lucky to have got the gig.’

  ‘I think we’re the lucky ones, if Niall’s numbers are to be believed,’ Fraser said. ‘Now I know the two of you are best friends – how did you meet?’

  Merry let Jess recount the familiar story. Anyone who’d been at their event on Friday evening would know the details already but Around Orkney had a whole raft of listeners who wouldn’t have been at the library to hear the tale. Fraser nodded along, then smiled at Merry. ‘It’s no secret you’ve been inspired by some of the local real-life love stories you’ve heard, Merina. How useful has it been from your point of view, being on Orkney?’

  ‘It’s been wonderful,’ she replied, without hesitation. ‘I don’t know what I’d be writing now, if I hadn’t come here. In fact, I don’t know if I’d be writing at all.’

  ‘There’s definitely something magical about Orkney,’ Jess chipped in. ‘I don’t know what it is, but I want more of it!’

  Fraser looked pleased. ‘Perhaps you should apply to be our next Writer in Residence, Jessie. You’ve certainly proved a hit with readers already.’

  He steered the conversation expertly around to their writing habits and then asked what they were working on now. Jess gave her standard vague answer about pulling together new ideas and Merry explained she was waiting for the copyedits on the novel she’d written set on Orkney.

  ‘That’s the historical love story inspired in part by Morag and Giovanni Rossi, is that right?’ Fraser said, checking his notes.

  ‘That’s right,’ Merry said, smiling. ‘I’m hoping to come back to Orkney nearer to publication and perhaps have a little celebration.’

  ‘And since you both write about romance, would it be fair to describe yourselves as romantics?’

  Jess’s gaze flicked sideways to Merry and she understood why: where was Fraser going with this?

  ‘Definitely,’ Jess said. ‘It’s hard to write about love if you don’t believe in it.’

  Fraser tipped his head. ‘So, would it be impertinent to ask if either of you have found romance on Orkney?’

  Merry fought the urge to groan into the microphone. The trouble with a close-knit community was that news travelled; Fraser must have heard about her and Magnús, she guessed. Which meant she couldn’t dodge the question, or even fib. ‘There was someone special for a while,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. ‘But not all romances are for ever – some are as short as a single kiss on a starlit night. And that makes them all the more unforgettable.’

  ‘It does indeed,’ Fraser said, offering her a sympathetic smile. ‘Poetically described. How about you, Jessie?’

  She winked across the mixing desk. ‘I’ve only been here a few days, Fraser. Give me half a chance!’

  He laughed as she went on. ‘But I do have my eye on a certain someone. Whether it will develop into anything more than a crush remains to be seen.’

  ‘He’ll be a lucky man if it does, whoever he is,’ Fraser replied solemnly, then shifted slightly in his seat, indicating the interview had come to an end. ‘Thanks to Jessie Edwards and Merina Wilde for coming in to chat to us here on Around Orkney. If you’re inspired to try their books, you can borrow them at Orkney Library and on sale in all good bookshops.’

  He wrapped up the recording and thanked them both again. ‘I hope you didn’t mind the wee curveball at the end,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Our listeners love to feel they’ve got the inside scoop.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Merry said politely, and Jess nodded her agreement.

  Fraser seemed relieved. ‘That’s good. It’ll go out in tomorrow’s broadcast, so do have a listen. And thanks again for taking the time to come in.’

  It wasn’t until they were outside that Jess gave Merry an incredulous look. ‘I see what you mean about it being different from any other interview. I don’t think I’ve ever been asked if I fancy any of the locals before.’

  ‘It’s a first for me too,’ Merry said wryly. ‘But I suppose if it helps to sell a few books…’

  She trailed off as Jess’s comments replayed in her head. I do have my eye on a certain someone… Any other time, she’d demand to know who it was but this time she was afraid of the answer. Surely it couldn’t be Niall, not after all her best friend’s encouragement to pursue him herself. But Merry had insisted she didn’t see him that way and, as Jess had pointed out, she’d only been on Orkney for a few days – the possibilities were limited. If it wasn’t Niall, who could it be? And if it was Niall… how did that make Merry feel?

  ‘Come on,’ Jess said. ‘Let’s find somewhere decent for lunch. My treat.’

  Merry forced herself to smile. What did it matter if Jess had a crush on Niall? It wasn’t as though he was off-limits – he was fair game, the same as any other single man on Orkney. But she still couldn’t brin
g herself to ask Jess who’d she’d meant. Some things were better left unsaid, she decided, and pushed the thought firmly out of her head.

  ‘Good idea,’ she told Jess, linking her arm through hers. ‘I think it’s time I introduced you to the joy that is Eviedale’s sourdough pizza.’

  Chapter Four

  Loved the interview today! Are you busy tomorrow night?

  The message from Clare Watson was one of many Merry received on Wednesday morning, after Around Orkney had finished its thirty-minute broadcast. She shared them all with Jess, who shook her head in wonderment.

  ‘This place is amazing,’ she said. ‘So much love for books and authors.’

  ‘I told you – writers are like rock stars here.’ She smiled a little wistfully. ‘I’m going to miss being a minor celebrity.’

  Jess leaned back into the sofa and gazed out of the window at the clear blue skies over the bay. ‘At least you’ve got another month of it. I have to go back to grey old London on Friday.’

  There were worse places to live, Merry thought dryly, but she knew what Jess meant. London could be breathtakingly beautiful, especially in the summer, but it didn’t have the islands’ endless skies and ethereal golden light. She didn’t know whether it was the landscape or its people or both, but Orkney seemed to wrap itself around the heart and make the thought of leaving impossibly hard.

  ‘You could always come back,’ she suggested.

  ‘I could,’ Jess said, and stretched with cat-like grace. ‘You know, I might just do that.’

  Merry’s phone vibrated, indicating another message. She picked the handset up and swiped the screen. ‘Clare wants to know if we’re up for a dinner party tomorrow night, at their place.’

  Jess frowned. ‘Remind me – who is Clare again?’

  ‘You met her briefly on Friday,’ Merry said. ‘Blonde hair, beautiful smile, owns the farm up the road and keeps llamas. You’ll like her, I think.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I remember,’ Jess said. ‘I thought we might go for a drink in Kirkwall, since it’s my last night here. But a dinner party could be fun, as long as she’s not the type to try and match us up with her terminally single friends. Who else is going to be there?’

  ‘I’ll ask,’ Merry said and tapped at her phone.

  Moments later, the screen lit up again. ‘You, me and Niall,’ she said. ‘Plus Clare and her husband, Hugh, of course.’

  Jess visibly brightened. ‘That’s fine, then. And it would be great to see Niall again before I go – let’s do it.’

  Pushing aside a faint needle of irritation, Merry typed in their acceptance. ‘Done. Sheila says Clare’s a fantastic cook. You might even get to meet Gordon the goat.’

  ‘The master criminal himself,’ Jess replied, grinning. ‘I can’t wait!’

  * * *

  Hugh insisted on coming to pick them up on Thursday evening.

  ‘I’ve got to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow anyway,’ he said, when Merry and Jess thanked him. ‘And I think Clare wants to impress you with her fancy wine list. It’s all wasted on me – I’m a whisky man through and through.’

  Clare met them at the door of the farmhouse. She hugged Merry, enveloping her in a cloud of sea salt and freesia, and then stood back to smile at Jess. ‘Lovely to see you both, thanks so much for coming.’

  ‘Thanks for inviting us,’ Jess answered. ‘I can’t think of a better way to spend my last evening on Orkney.’

  ‘We’ll try to give you a good send off,’ Clare promised. ‘Niall’s through in the living room. I hope you won’t mind but he’s brought a friend.’

  Jess sent an accusing look Merry’s way and she had to bite her lip to fight down a sudden giggle. ‘Anyone I know?’

  ‘Oh, I think you’ve met,’ Clare said enigmatically and led them down the hallway.

  ‘If it’s anyone over fifty, I’m running for the hills,’ Jess hissed, grabbing Merry’s sleeve. ‘Unless he’s George Clooney, obviously.’

  The mystery guest turned out to be Andrew, which allowed Merry a sigh of relief. Clare wasn’t matchmaking – she’d simply invited guests Merry and Jess knew and liked.

  ‘Hullo again,’ Andrew said and grinned at Jess. ‘How’s the head?’

  ‘Better, thanks,’ Jess replied. ‘I hope you’re not mixing the drinks tonight.’

  Clare laughed. ‘No fear. I’ve been slaving over a hot oven for hours – you all need to be sober enough to appreciate the results!’

  Merry and Jess both accepted her offer of prosecco and settled onto the comfortable-looking sofas in the heart of the oak-beamed room.

  ‘Great interview yesterday,’ Niall said. ‘Fraser was on good form, I thought.’

  ‘He was nosy, you mean,’ Clare sniffed, coming back into the room with a champagne flute in each hand. ‘But Merry and Jess handled it perfectly.’

  Andrew shook his head. ‘He’s a journalist – they’re always on the lookout for a good story.’

  ‘But I bet he didn’t ask the same question when he interviewed the last Writer in Residence,’ Jess pointed out.

  ‘No idea,’ Andrew replied. ‘He was so boring that I think I fell asleep.’

  Niall shifted on the sofa. ‘I do try to choose authors who’ll appeal to different readers on the islands,’ he said mildly.

  ‘But you’ve got to admit you struck gold with Merry here,’ Clare said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen such consistently big crowds over the six month residency.’

  Merry felt her face start to burn with mingled pride and embarrassment. ‘I don’t get anything like those numbers back in London,’ she protested. ‘Orkney clearly has a lot of dedicated readers.’

  ‘And you’ve done a brilliant job of engaging them,’ Niall said with a warm glance. ‘Our next Writer in Residence has some big shoes to fill.’

  ‘Speaking of shoes,’ Clare said grimly. ‘Did Hugh tell you Gordon ate my favourite pair?’

  ‘No!’ Merry said. ‘Honestly, is there anything that goat won’t eat?’

  ‘Not that we’ve found,’ Clare replied with a sigh.

  ‘It was your own fault,’ Hugh rumbled. ‘You left them outside the backdoor and you know he’s partial to a daisy.’

  Clare rolled her eyes. ‘The kind that grow, not the ones attached to my expensive sandals!’

  Everyone laughed and the conversation moved on to some of Gordon’s even more outrageous crimes. Clare flitted in and out, checking on the food, and announced ten minutes later that their starters were ready.

  ‘I hope you like scallops,’ she said to Jess as they took their seats around the long kitchen table. “Hand-dived this morning and straight from the boat.”

  ‘Love them,’ Jess replied. ‘And they smell amazing.’

  Merry found herself facing Niall, with Andrew on her left and Jess diagonally opposite. Hugh and Clare sat at the head of the table and conversation flowed easily as they ate. The scallops were expertly cooked, and every bit as delicious as they smelled. Then there was a main course of crispy salmon fishcakes, topped with a glistening poached egg and drizzled with an exquisite beurre blanc sauce. It was as good as anything Merry had been served in a London restaurant and she told Clare as much.

  ‘Oh, bless you, I don’t know about that,’ she said, her cheeks pink with pleasure. ‘But it’s hard to go wrong when the raw ingredients are so fresh.’

  Niall glanced across at Hugh. ‘I don’t know how you’re not the size of a house if you eat like this all the time.’

  Hugh let out a snort of amusement. ‘You think she goes to this much trouble when it’s just me?’

  Clare glanced at him, unperturbed. ‘You do all right, Hugh Watson.’

  Merry tried not to watch the way Jess reacted to Niall as the evening wore on. Clare had chosen excellent wine – Hugh had been right – and Jess grew more tactile with each course of the meal. By the time the spectacular rhubarb crumble sundae was served, Merry was finding it hard not to grit her teeth every time her best friend laid
a hand on Niall’s arm, or laughed a little too hard at his jokes. It was the wine, she told herself firmly. Jess was just being Jess after a few drinks – expansive, charming and a tiny bit over-friendly. But it grated on Merry’s nerves all the same.

  Determined not to let it spoil her evening, she turned to Andrew. ‘So how long have you played the guitar?’

  ‘As long as I can remember,’ he answered. ‘Niall and I used to be in a band together when we were teenagers but you know how it is – artistic differences and all that.’

  Niall glanced across the table. ‘What Mr Handsome over there means is that he used to get all the girls and the rest of us had to stand around and watch.’

  Jess raised her eyebrows. ‘I can believe that Andrew was popular with the ladies but surely you got more than your fair share too?’

  ‘You’re forgetting one crucial thing,’ Niall said gravely. ‘I’m a librarian. There’s nothing sexy about that.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Jess said, aiming an innocent look at the ceiling. ‘I think it kind of depends who you ask.’

  Niall laughed. ‘It helped that Andrew was a double Ba’ champion, man and boy. He’s practically Lionel Messi by Orkney standards.’

  ‘Ba’?’ Merry repeated, looking back and forth between the two men. ‘What’s that?’

  Clare grinned. ‘I can’t believe you’ve been here this long and no one has described the madness that is the Kirkwall Ba’ Game. You’ve been lucky.’

  ‘Don’t listen to her,’ Hugh said. ‘The Ba’ Game is a feat of skill and strategy that happens every Christmas Day and New Year. Basically, all the men in Kirkwall are split into two teams—’

  ‘The Uppies and the Doonies,’ Andrew cut in.

  ‘Aye, you’re either an Uppy or a Doony, depending on the family you belong to or which part of town you were born in,’ Hugh agreed. ‘It’s one huge football match, played for the honour of our ancestors. The Doonies are trying to get the ba’ into Kirkwall Bay and the Uppies have to touch the ba’ against a wall in the southern end of town.’