by Alys West
Winston got to his feet. “It’s been nice to meet you. Jenna told me a lot about you.” The look she sent him from behind Andrew’s shoulder could chill ice.
“Has she told you I’ve offered her a flat in Edinburgh, rent free?” When Winston nodded, Andrew continued, “Then will you see if you can talk her into taking it? She won’t listen to me. But you must see it’s time she moves on with her life.”
“I think Jenna’s issue with the flat is the price tag that comes with it?”
“What price tag?” Andrew spread his hands, a gesture which made him look about as trustworthy as a used car salesman. “It’s rent free for the first three months and if she’s not found a job after that then we can work something out.”
“How are your plans coming along for the Nethertown development?” Winston widened his stance as he crossed his arms. “I’ve heard there’s some opposition to it.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Andrew turned to Jenna as he handed her his empty beer bottle. “Nearly forgot. Would you play for us at the party? You said last week that you’ve been getting back into your music.”
“I am. We’ve got a support gig in ten days’ time.”
“We? Who’s the we?” Andrew asked.
“Hal.” Her head dipped as she said his name.
“Will the two of you play some tunes? Traditional Orkney stuff if you can. People will love it.”
“I’ll have to ask him. He might be busy. And we don’t know many Orkney tunes except the trad version of Farewell to Stromness. We used to play that.”
“Whatever you’ve got. Once people get a few drinks in them they won’t care if it’s traditional or U2. Ask Hal and let me know.” He straightened his tie as he spoke. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom before I go?”
“Not at all.” Jenna pointed through the door. “It’s first on the right.”
Andrew crossed the room and turned into the hall. Winston’s gaze met hers as he walked towards her. Seconds later, he heard the bathroom door close.
As he reached her, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “We can’t stand here in silence until he leaves,” he said in her ear. “And I can’t say what I want to say until he’s gone.”
She ducked away from him, moved to the kitchen and dropped Andrew’s beer bottle in the recycling bin. “How was work?” she said. “Did you find anything interesting?”
“We found some wood.” He followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the work bench, his arms crossed. “Anywhere else that wouldn’t be remarkable but this is the first wood we’ve found at the Ness. I think it’s a sign.”
Jenna glanced at him over her shoulder. Her hands were busy slicing a yellow pepper with a serious-looking chef’s knife. “Of what?”
“What we talked about last night.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure you didn’t find a tree? It must be hard to tell after it’s been in the ground for four thousand years.”
Andrew called from the hall. “I’ll see myself out shall I, Jenna? Thanks for the beer.”
Half-turning she called, “You’re welcome.”
The front door snicked closed. “You’re welcome?” Winston said, his voice a high parody of hers. “What’s that about?”
She turned to face him, the knife still in her hand. “What else could I say? ‘Don’t ever come round again’?”
“At least that’d be honest. How the hell did you come to tell him I’m a druid?”
“I didn’t mean to.” Her arms folded over her chest, the knife perilously close to her left shoulder. “It came out by accident.”
He took two short steps to stand in front of her, took the knife from her grasp. “How, exactly?”
“He asked if we were together, if I was seeing the druid I’d told him about when I last saw him.” Her chin came up. “I didn’t know you were actually going to be on time for once, did I? That I’d end up with the two of you snarling at each other like bears in my living room.”
“Bears?” A grin started and he couldn’t repress it. “Your uncle maybe. He’s grizzly through and through. But I’m more of a panther.”
She shoved him away from her. He rocked back, letting the momentum of her anger move him. “Oh, grow up!”
Jenna picked up the knife again, returning to slicing the pepper with small, efficient movements. He moved to rest his back against the fridge, a foot away from where she was working. “Where was your uncle when Nina died?”
“You can’t possibly think—”
“Was he in Orkney?”
“No. The police checked. They thought the same as you that because they’d fallen out over the Nethertown development he must be prime suspect but he was in Aberdeen. In meetings. All day.”
“He’s still a dangerous man.”
“He is not.” She barely glanced at him. “He’s a bully and a bit manipulative—”
“A bit? When I got here he was trying to convince you to have counselling.”
“That was out of order. All I did was turn down the offer of the flat and suddenly he’s preaching the benefits of counselling.”
“What did you say to him?”
“That I didn’t think it’d work because there’s too much about Mum I couldn’t tell a counsellor.”
“Nicely played.” He crossed his arms, watching her as she talked. “Then what did he do?”
“Then he offered to pay.” Her hand paused for a second, then she pushed the peppers into a pile and began on the mushrooms. “But I’m sure he—”
“Don’t try to defend him. He’s got an agenda. I don’t know what it is yet but I’m absolutely certain it’s got nothing to do with helping you.”
“You’ve only been in the same room with him for fifteen minutes and you spent most of that time boring him to death about archaeology, how can you possibly—”
“It worked though, didn’t it? He left. And he didn’t try to pressure you into having counselling again.”
She stopped, knife poised. “That’s why you did it?”
“I don’t like people who put pressure on you.” Her gaze met his, wide with surprise. He wanted to step in and kiss her. As he leaned towards her, her eyes widened further.
Not a good sign. If she rejected him now he’d be back to square one. He stepped back, crossed his arms and spoke to a spot two inches above her left shoulder. “You do realise that whatever you said about us didn’t work? Your uncle’s convinced we’re sleeping together.”
Chapter 31
Walking up the lane after work, Rachel’s stomach felt heavy with dread. She’d been worrying all day and even the sea hadn’t soothed her. Because, although the conversation with Sarah seemed to go well, the spellworker had said she needed to think it over and would get back to her with a decision tomorrow.
If it was a no, she didn’t know what she’d do. Talking to Sarah had made her see how bad things had really got. Without help to control her magic, she was a danger to herself and others. Next time it might be even worse. She might do more than injure folk, she might kill them. She couldn’t let that happen. She’d have to run away. Hide somewhere so isolated no one would know what she was doing. Although that would mean leaving Dad. And how could she do that?
The minute Rachel stepped through the front door she pulled out her mobile. Seeing an email from Sarah, she touched the screen to open it. As she read her mouth opened. Sarah had not only decided to keep her on the programme, she’d invited her to a summer school for spellworkers with ‘extraordinary potential’.
It was in Yorkshire at Mabon. A moment of panic made her smile fade. How could she possibly afford it? But then Sarah went on to say she’d cover her travel expenses and all board and lodgings would be included. They’d be staying in a house owned by one of Sarah’s friends, who’d also be teaching them, in a place called Thixendale.
After dashing upstairs, Rachel opened her laptop. Googling ‘Thixendale, Yorkshire’ she saw that it was in the middle of the Yorkshire Wol
ds about twenty miles from York. Staring at the map it seemed a very long way. She’d never been to England. The furthest away from home she’d ever been was Glasgow with Kenny. Could she really travel all that way on her own?
But Sarah said there’d be others like her and they’d work on developing their skills and have classes on all the different elements of spellwork. She had to go. There was no way she was going to miss out on this. She’d book the time off work tomorrow and then email Sarah back.
To get her up to speed for the intensive work at the summer school there were new exercises to work on. Feeding paper into her elderly printer, Rachel opened the attachment and sent it to print. While the pages slowly churned out she searched the internet trying to figure out how to get to Yorkshire. The quickest option seemed to be to fly to Edinburgh and then catch a train but that was really expensive. She’d have to ask Sarah if it was alright to spend that much. She could get there much more cheaply if she took the ferry, the bus to Inverness and then the train to York.
As the printer finally wheezed to a halt, she picked the pages up and flipped through the exercises. Frowning, she went through them again, slower this time. It was all about water and air. Nothing about working on earth and fire. There’d got to be some mistake. She’d told Sarah last night that she needed to find balance, to develop her abilities with the other elements. Nina had said that it was only when she could handle all the elements with equal skill that she’d be able to do real spellwork. So why was Sarah getting her to concentrate on the elements that were easiest for her?
Turning back to the screen, she scanned Sarah’s email again. It was in the last but one paragraph which she’d skipped before: ‘Because you were the last to join the mentoring programme you’re a bit behind some of the others but we can soon put that right. I want you to work on your strengths for now and then when you get to Yorkshire I’ll be there to help you with the weaker areas.’
Turning the pages, she looked again at what Sarah wanted her to do. Perhaps they did make some kind of sense. They were all about control, beginning a spell and then stopping it, binding your intention to the elements.
Swallowing hard as her throat tightened, Rachel rubbed the back of her neck. What if she lost it doing these spells? There was serious power involved and if she couldn’t keep it together then folk could get hurt. Like they had at the wedding. She needed to find a place to practise where there was no one around. Somewhere no one would get hurt if it all went wrong.
Her gaze rose to the photograph on the wall above the desk. The white sands of Westray. There was plenty of space there. She’d not been back since Dad got sick. Perhaps it was time.
***
Winston elbowed the cushions behind him trying to find a more comfortable position on the bed. Wriggling around a bit until his back was supported, he hoisted his laptop onto his bent knees and picked up the glass of Glenfiddich. He’d spent the last twenty minutes on the phone to Suzie. She’d been more chilled about it than he’d expected. He’d overplayed the uncertainty of his plans a bit more than was strictly true, after all he’d have to go home in September to teach, but it wasn’t a lie to say he’d no immediate plans to return to Glasgow and she should find another date for her ex’s wedding. He hoped that was enough for her to get the message and he’d tried to quash any hint that they could pick up where they’d left off when term started.
He read again the email he’d received from Dan who taught accountancy at the University. They’d met through the learning and teaching forum which had been landed on Winston like a poisoned chalice last academic year. A call to Dan at lunchtime to ask how to find out about Steambridge’s finances had led to a stream of information Winston had struggled to follow. He’d been trying to scribble it down on a scrap of paper until Dan took pity on him and offered to email it over.
Clicking on the first link took him to Companies House. He typed ‘Steambridge Developments Limited’ into the search box. The results came back almost immediately. He clicked on the company name and then trawled through the information until he found the latest set of accounts. In seconds, they were open on the screen. Frowning, he scrolled through them.
It was a bigger enterprise than he’d realised but from what he could see it wasn’t making any money. The figure with the minus against it was much larger for this year than the previous year. How did they keep trading? The balance sheet showed assets, mainly properties, but there was hardly any money in the bank.
Where was Andrew going to get the money to build the Nethertown development? In these times of austerity even Winston knew, and he took no notice of business matters if he could possibly help it, that banks weren’t lending. How was Andrew bucking that trend? And if the company was making so little money how could he afford to offer Jenna a flat rent free even for three months?
Back on Google he searched for ‘Steambridge Developments Edinburgh’. As he clicked on the top result, the screen filled with a selection of glossy shots of the flats. It was a conversion of two Georgian houses on Thistle Street into what the website called ‘premium apartments’. They had a premium price tag too. Had Jenna looked at this before she turned the flat down? Because the photographs made them all, even the one bedroom studio, look very desirable.
He couldn’t see her living there though. It was too sleek with stripped wooden floors, granite worktops and designer furniture. Jenna was more of a make do and mend kind of person. Her flat was stuck in a mid-eighties time warp. He wished he’d seen Andrew’s face when confronted with the avocado bathroom suite. But Jenna had done her best to stamp her personality on it with bright throws and rugs, bunting and fairy lights. It was totally different to his flat which was almost unchanged from when he’d viewed it four years ago. He’d moved in, unpacked his stuff and never changed a thing except to buy more bookcases.
Picking up his mug, he sipped his tea. She’d die laughing if she knew he was spending his evening looking at accounts. But after the sleep he’d lost with Suzie at the weekend and the late night with Jenna yesterday he was shattered.
They’d spent the rest of the evening going through the grimoires, where they’d found nothing else even vaguely significant, and talking about Rachel. With any luck Hal would have a surname for them tonight and then they’d be able to track her down. Jenna was worried about what they were going to do then. Would they rock up at her front door and tell her they knew what she was up to and she had to stop or were they going to take a subtler approach? He was all for the former but he had to admit Jenna had a good argument for taking it more slowly and not scaring Rachel off. But if Jenna was right and Andrew’s house would be destroyed during the party on Sunday, they didn’t have much time for subtlety.
Jenna had promised to ring once she’d got the name from Hal. He hoped the Viking wasn’t doing anything else to upset her. Not that he minded if she turned up here again needing a shoulder to cry on but his self-control was getting thin. He really wanted her. It was killing him spending all this time with her and not being able to touch her.
Opening an email to Dan, Winston typed out a quick message asking him if Steambridge’s financial position was normal for a property development company. He attached the copy of the accounts he’d downloaded and promised to buy Dan a pint when he was next in Glasgow.
He’d joked to Jenna about Andrew handing used fivers over in brown envelopes. But if he was, where was the money coming from for bribes? Unless Andrew was bribing the bank manager too. Was that even possible?
Because Andrew was up to something. He could be making at least £1,000 a month on that flat. He wasn’t offering it to Jenna out of the kindness of his heart. And then to try to convince her to have counselling when she turned it down— that was tantamount to gaslighting — and Jenna still didn’t see through him.
She was way too nice. That was her trouble. She couldn’t see the Viking for the arse he was or Andrew as a dangerous manipulative twat. And now her uncle not only knew he was a druid but had ma
de sure Winston was aware that he knew. If Andrew was as oblivious to the world of magic as Jenna claimed, would he have done that?
Because there was one possibility about the coercion spell Nina had been trying to undo that they’d not talked about. A possibility that Jenna would never see unless it was lit up in neon outside her flat. He had to be certain before he broached it with her and he needed a lot more evidence to be certain.
***
It was a beautiful evening with the sun glinting off the water. Leaning on the balustrade, Hal looked out across Stromness harbour and inhaled deeply, savouring the salt tang in the air. A few gulls swam, sharing the space with the Graemsay ferry with its boom to lift cars on and off, and a couple of small fishing boats. Further out, a yoal had its brown sails up, tacking across the voe.
In the last weeks in Toronto, when things were tense with Cassie and he’d wondered if he was doing the right thing, this is how he’d imagined it would feel to be back in Orkney. So far nothing had disappointed. The job was going well, the new house would be great when the rest of the furniture arrived, he was spending time with his family and getting back into his music.
He had Jenna to thank for that. Without her it’d have been a lot more of a struggle. From playing together in the band, they had a kind of shorthand that made everything easier. He’d been working hard on the songs they’d rehearsed on Sunday and he wanted to run through them again. Hopefully he could persuade her to come back to his for a quick rehearsal after this damned meeting was over.
Turning, he looked up Ferry Road to the roundabout. It wasn’t like Jenna to be late. But then he couldn’t kid himself that things were fine between them. He’d seen the colour rush from her face when he’d told her about Cassie coming. She’d seemed alright when they were rehearsing but the distance between them was back and she’d left without hugging him. Since then he’d been thinking about what might have been if Cassie hadn’t decided to come over, what still might be if she didn’t want to stay and if Jenna didn’t take her uncle’s offer of the flat in Edinburgh. They’d been good together before. Could they be again or had there been too much water under the bridge? Had time and, for Jenna, grief changed them into different people to those they were six years ago? If Cassie stayed, he was never going to find out.