by Alys West
“You never do.”
“Harsh, Miss Henderson.”
“I don’t think so.”
He winced. Not forgiven. Zoe’s words resonated through his brain. ‘For a smart bloke you can be such a tosser sometimes.’ He cleared his throat again. “Look, I’m sorry about Friday. I was out of order.”
“About which bit?” All trace of sleepiness had gone. “Investigating my uncle without telling me, showing me that picture at the Stones of Stenness of all places, where there’s no privacy and no space for me to be upset or lying to me about Hal.”
“I didn’t lie…” ‘You do know you’re jealous, don’t you?’ He wasn’t but Hal was stringing her along and she couldn’t see it. She deserved better, much better than that. “Just talk to Hal. And if I’m wrong, I’ll apologise properly. Whatever you want. Meal out, flowers, the works.”
Shit! That sounded more like a date than an apology.
“I’ll hold you to that, Dr Grant.”
“And I am sorry about the rest of it. I should have been more—” Sensitive? Considerate? Honest? Less up his own arse? He took the safer option “—aware that it was hard for you.”
There was a long silence and then she said, “Just don’t do it again. I’ve got enough going on without you being a bastard as well.”
“How are you?”
“Not good. I keep seeing that damned picture. All those people!” Her voice got quieter and he wished he was with her, wished he could put his arms around her, wished he could keep the pain away.
Fuck! He did not. ‘Just admit it. You like Jenna.’ Zoe couldn’t be right. He didn’t like her, not like that.
“Winston? Are you still there?”
He knocked back a gulp of coffee, the heat searing the back of his throat. “Yes.”
“I need to look at the picture again. Will you email it to me?”
“Sure.” One word answers he could manage. One word would have to be enough until he figured out what the bloody hell was going on.
“Because I wondered if it’s going to happen when they have their party next Sunday. That would explain why there’s so many folk there.”
“Okay.”
“Are you sure you’re alright? You sound really far away.”
“I’m in Glasgow.” An evasion if ever there was one.
“Oh! I didn’t know.”
“Came Friday night. Spur of the moment thing. Can’t get away next weekend because it’s the open day at the dig.”
“Feeling claustrophobic again?” She sounded amused.
“Very.”
“Only another month or so to go.”
After which he’d come home and he wouldn’t see her. “Aye.”
“You don’t sound very happy about it.”
“Too much to do before then. We’ve got a storm witch to catch.” He knocked back more coffee hoping the caffeine would return him to normal neural function and make these thoughts some Sunday morning sleep deprived aberration. “About that, I’ve got a question for you. Who was Kenny seeing before whatshername he was going to marry?”
“Why on earth do you want to know that?”
“Because what if the storm wasn’t aimed at the Cathedral but at the wedding going on inside? We know Rachel had a serious boyfriend when she was working with Nina. If that was Kenny then it’d give her a reason for wanting to destroy the wedding.”
“It seems a bit extreme. I mean, even if he dumped her, what kind of person tries to ruin his wedding?”
“Nina said she feared for anyone who hurt her.”
“She did say that.” The words were barely a whisper down the line. Why did she never sound like that when he was with her?
“When did the storm start?” He sounded more gravelly than normal. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Because on the Crystal Goddess forum she said she’d tried to stop the spell but she couldn’t. If she was aiming it at the wedding then—”
“What she said on the forum makes a lot more sense.” Jenna’s voice was back to normal. “I couldn’t see a lot because I was inside but it was raining really heavily by the time Amy arrived because she was drenched.”
“We need to find her, Jenna. Because if all she wanted to do was disrupt the wedding then she’s even more out of control than we thought.”
“It still seems a stretch that she might be Kenny’s ex but I’m seeing Hal later. I’ll ask him who Kenny was seeing before Amy.”
“Don’t you know?”
A heavy sigh echoed down the line. “As I’ve told you before I don’t keep a file on the private lives of every person on the Mainland.”
“But he’s Hal’s cousin?”
“And Hal’s been away a long time. I hardly ever saw Kenny.” There was a tiny pause and then she said, “When are you back?”
“Tonight. I’m flying back from Edinburgh. The Glasgow flight was fully booked.”
“I hope the fog clears.”
“What fog?”
“Here. It’s pretty thick.”
“But it’s July.”
“And?”
“I will never get used to the weather on your poxy little island.”
She laughed and they said goodbye. Immediately, he checked the flight information on his mobile. She wasn’t wrong. All flights into Kirkwall that morning had been cancelled. His hand slammed down on the table. The two coffees bounced, froth leaking from the top of Suzie’s.
He slumped back in his seat. Around him people were grabbing coffees on their way to work or picking them up for friends or family; a Sunday morning treat with a pastry or a muffin. Normality. He’d tried being part of it and look how well that turned out. Magic set you apart, even when you didn’t want it to. That broke some. But he thrived on it. One step removed, always ready to move on when someone got too close.
Except for Finn. And because of Finn, there was Zoe who saw far too bloody much and not only in her dreams.
He picked up the two coffees. He’d go back to Suzie’s, deliver the coffee, make his excuses and leave. He needed to be alone. If he’d got the bike he’d be off out of the city, up the west coast until the air cleared and there was space to think. Without it, he’d have to go for a bloody walk in Pollock Park.
***
Rachel stood in her pyjamas and looked at the wreck which had once been the kitchen. The sink needed replacing. The cooker, microwave, washing machine and toaster would have to be thrown out as they’d never work again. The fridge freezer was limping along making some strange rattles and a rather alarming buzzing noise. The floor tiles were ruined. There was a tide mark eighteen inches up the wall, below which the paint was stained brown from the dirty water that had backed up the drains. Water had seeped into the hall and the carpet was a sopping mess. The dent in the ceiling where the tap had hit would have to be plastered over.
She’d called Carl, the plumber, and he’d promised to fit her in tomorrow. Until then she had no water and had to fetch it in buckets from Mrs Sutherland’s. The insurance company had told her to get quotes for all the work and confirmed they’d cover the cost. Thank God, they didn’t know what had really caused it.
It’d taken half an hour for the firemen to arrive from Kirkwall. Half an hour when dirty water from the drains had continued to spray over the kitchen and soak into everything. She’d brushed what she could out into the yard, her arms burning from the exertion. The chief fireman had taken one look at the sink and said they needed to drain the water tank. But he couldn’t explain the cause. The confusion on his face and reluctance with which he wrote ‘unexplained flooding’ on his report confirmed her suspicion.
Work yesterday had been agony. Utterly exhausted, she’d barely managed to stay on her feet throughout her shift. She’d got home, eaten a yoghurt and fallen into bed.
She had to confess to Sarah. She was dreading it. Absolutely dreading it. Because if Sarah threw her off the mentoring programme, she didn’t know what she’d do. She so badly needed help. If she’d not
seen that before, she did now. She’d been an idiot to think she could manage this on her own. A total fucking idiot and she’d paid the price. She could barely afford the house insurance as it was and now the premiums would go up and she’d got to pay the excess and all when every penny should be going towards Dad’s care. Because she would not abandon him to an old folks’ home. She’d do whatever she had to, even if it meant working two jobs or three to keep him in the home in Wick where they at least believed he’d a chance of improving.
She glanced automatically at the kitchen clock. It’d stopped, its hands fixed at twenty to ten. She picked up her mobile instead. 10:18. If she wanted to catch Debbie before the pub opened, she needed to get going. When she got back, she’d email Sarah. Closing the kitchen door behind her, she yawned hugely as she headed upstairs to get dressed.
***
After pulling up outside the new house on the outskirts of Stromness, Jenna picked up the brown paper carrier by its string handles, slung her fiddle case over her shoulder and climbed out of the car. The house was at the top of the hill and usually there’d be a great view over Scapa Flow to Hoy. Today the road disappeared into thick fog and you couldn’t even see the golf course at the end of it. Walking past Hal’s car parked on the drive, she hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door.
She was going to have to ask him. Sometime during this afternoon, while they were rehearsing for their support set, she had to ask him about Cassie. She had to find out if Kenny had a deranged ex as well but, right now, that seemed like the far easier option. Because if Cassie was coming then Hal hadn’t only kept it from her, he’d lied. Not in words but in what he’d done. How could he hug her like that, not once but twice, if he was still with Cassie?
She rapped loudly on the door. A few moments later, it opened and Hal stood there. Her breath caught. How did he look gorgeous when he was most dishevelled? Sandy red hair stood up at all angles, stubble darkened his chin, his t-shirt looked like he’d slept in it and his jeans had rips in them that revealed several inches of muscular thigh.
To cover her reaction, she shoved the bag at him as she stepped inside. “Housewarming present.”
“Thanks.” Taking it, he led the way into a small, well-equipped kitchen that gleamed with newness. Two mugs hung from hooks on the wall, a pair of chrome stools were tucked beneath the breakfast bar, a couple of canisters labelled ‘tea’ and ‘coffee’ stood on the worktop.
“This is nice.” It was actually a lot more than bloody nice. It was perfect. If Cassie was coming they would cook together at the shiny hob, companionably eat toast each morning at the breakfast bar and wash up looking out into the neat postage stamp of a back garden.
She shouldn’t have come. Why hadn’t she invited him to her place for this rehearsal? They didn’t need to do it here. Or they could have put it off for a day or two until she felt more together, less tense about Mum’s letters and Zoe’s picture. She’d spent nearly an hour this morning looking at both drawings, trying to figure out when they might happen, who the injured people were, how the birds had got there. But no matter how much she zoomed in, she couldn’t see anything that really helped. If the house was going to be destroyed at Andrew and Felicity’s party, they were running out of time.
“This is really great, Jenna. Thank you.” Hal’s words made her turn and she saw that he’d unpacked the mug she’d bought. It read ‘New York, London, Paris, Kirkwall’ in bright bold letters.
“It seemed appropriate, seeing as you’ve been to all of those places.”
“Not for very long. Cassie and I were only in Paris for a weekend.”
If that wasn’t an opening, she didn’t know what was. Crossing her arms, she said, “Have you heard from her much?”
Hal turned away, gestured with the kettle. “Do you want a cup of tea before we start?”
“Yes, thanks.”
Once he’d filled the kettle and put it on to boil, he leaned back against the kitchen worktop, his arms crossed over his chest. “Actually, we’ve been talking quite a bit and last week she told me she wanted to come over for a month to see if she could live here after all.”
All of the oxygen left her chest. Winston was bloody well right.
Hal opened a cupboard and took out a box of teabags. From the spotless, and virtually empty, fridge he produced a pint of milk. “I was really shocked when she told me. She said what happened at the wedding made her change her mind. I wasn’t sure she meant it at the beginning but now she’s booked her flight and she’ll be here in ten days’ time.”
Her hands formed fists, her fingernails digging into the palms to keep tears away. The rising note of the kettle filled the silence. “So, you’re back together then?”
He faced her, his arms crossed. “I honestly don’t know. I guess I’ve got to take it one day at a time and see how it goes. But if she decides she doesn’t want to live here then there’s no way I’m going back to Toronto.”
“Oh? When did she decide to come?”
“Ten days ago. I didn’t want to tell you until you were feeling better.”
He had kept it from her. And he’d known on Thursday evening when he’d hugged her.
“But we can still play together,” Hal added. “She knows how important my music is.”
As if that was what was bothering her! Swallowing hard, she said, “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”
“Top of the stairs.” He opened the hall door as he spoke. “You can’t miss it.”
“Thanks.”
The bathroom was as neat and shiny as the rest of the house. His toothbrush and toothpaste stood in a holder next to the sink. Shower gel and shampoo were lined up along the side of the bath. Navy blue towels were folded on the towel rail. She locked the door, closed the toilet lid and sat on it.
Cassie was coming. She was going to live with Hal in this perfect little house and have Orkney life on trial to decide if it suited her. Cassie would have a whole month of Hal trying to make things as wonderful as possible while she figured out if she wanted to live here. Which was insane because if Cassie really loved him then she’d have to be where he was and it wouldn’t matter if it was Orkney or Antarctica or Mars.
She’d have gone to Mars for him when they were together. Only she’d been forced into choosing between him and Dad. She’d not realised that at the time but that’s what it’d come down to. And she’d lost him and now she was never going to get him back because Cassie would come and love Orkney and stay and then they’d get married and have kids and she’d have to leave because she couldn’t bear it.
Tears slid down her cheeks. Sniffing, she scrubbed them away. Winston hadn’t been wrong. He’d been absolutely spot on and she’d yelled at him because she’d been so sure Hal would have told her. But he hadn’t. And he’d hugged her. Hugged her knowing Cassie was coming. Knowing they were still an item. Which could only mean the hugs meant nothing.
A sob slipped up her throat and out through her lips. She slammed her hand across her mouth. She couldn’t let him hear her crying. She had to go back down there and pretend everything was fine. She could cry when she got home. Her head dropped back into her hands. Except she’d promised to go to Dad’s for tea once she left here.
Tugging her mobile from her pocket, she pressed the screen to get Rosie’s number. But it was half-past two on a Sunday afternoon and Rosie would be with Lawrence. There was no way she could have a sensible conversation with her until about eight this evening. Who else could she call? None of her Orkney friends knew her history with Hal. Only one other person knew and he was the last person she could ring.
Inhaling deeply, she raised her head and stood. Leaning against the sink, she poured water into it and splashed it over her face. The cold stung her cheeks but chased the tears from her eyes. She wiped her face on one of Hal’s towel and raised her chin.
She’d faced worse than this. She’d plastered a smile on and got through the days when her heart was breaking from grief about Mum a
nd worry about Dad. She could get through this. She had to.
***
“Rachel, love, if you want the extra shifts then they’re yours but are you sure you can manage? You look all in.” Debbie, the wife of Robbie who owned The Commercial Hotel, was from Yorkshire. Fifteen years living in Stromness hadn’t dented her accent.
“I’ll be fine. It’s been a tough week. But I’ll be here on Friday. I won’t let you down.”
“I’m not worried about that. I know you’re a good worker and if you say you’ll be here then you will. I am worried about you taking on too much.”
“I can manage.”
“But you’ll say if you can’t, won’t you?” As Rachel nodded, Debbie continued, her face a mixture of genuine concern and delight in a bit of gossip. “Sorry to hear about your kitchen, love. Must be awful for you. Is that why you need the extra money?”
“Actually it’s because of Dad. It…it’s the Council.” Whatever she said would be round the town before nightfall but she had to talk to someone. Debbie had always been kind and suddenly she couldn’t hold the words in any longer. “I don’t know what to do. Without the Council’s money I can’t keep him in the home on what I earn. I could sell the house but that feels wrong. I mean, I know he’s not coming back to live there. I do know that. But he loved that house. He put so much work into it. I can’t…”
Debbie patted her back. “Now then lass, you shouldn’t be facing this on your own. You’ve been through so much since Paul got sick.” Without saying anything else, Debbie stood and a few moments later a cup of rather weak looking tea was put on the table. “Drink that love. It’ll make you feel better. I’ll just have a word with our Robbie. See what he thinks.”
The tea was sweet as well as weak. It did help a bit. As did sitting in Debbie’s cosy kitchen above the bar which smelled of frying bacon and recently cooked toast.
Returning with a determined look on her face, Debbie said, “Robbie says you need a lawyer.”
“I can’t afford a lawyer.”