‘You and I are going for a walk,’ she told him, in a firm tone that she hoped transcended the language barrier. ‘I’m taking you home.’
* * *
It was not like walking a dog.
At first, Gordon had seemed to understand what she wanted him to do, although that might have had more to do with the bag of snacking seeds she’d brought to encourage him to come quietly. But the further they got into the two-mile journey, the slower the goat walked. He stopped often to tug grass from the fields they crossed and refused to move when Merry tugged on the rope in careful encouragement. At one point, she resorted to placing her hands on his flanks and pushing, but that only made him dig his hooves into the ground more. There was still no reply from the farm; Clare and Hugh must be out with the llama stock, she decided, pushing her sweaty hair from her forehead and glaring at the goat. She couldn’t shake the impression that he was laughing at her.
‘You are a bloody pain in the arse,’ she snapped. ‘I’m going to write you into a book and feed you to a dinosaur.’
He opened his mouth and let out a bleat that sounded a lot like a string of expletives. Then he trotted off, leaving Merry to stare after him before breaking into a jog to keep up. Maybe he did understand her after all, she thought.
She hadn’t given much thought to what she would do if she arrived at the farm to find no sign of the Watsons, but luckily she met Hugh in the Land Rover at the bottom of the lane that led to the farmhouse. He leaned out of the open window, taking in her warm-cheeked, sweaty appearance with obvious surprise. ‘Hullo, Merry. Out for a walk?’
Then he saw the goat, and the length of rope in Merry’s hands, and understanding dawned. ‘Oh dear,’ he said with a sorrowful shake of his head. ‘What’s he done this time?’
She glossed over the details of the crime. Apart from anything else, she wasn’t sure she wanted to discuss her expensive lingerie habit with someone she barely knew. When she mentioned the missing underwire, Hugh’s expression had grown serious.
‘It’s unlikely he ate it, but you never know with goats,’ he said. ‘Hop in the front and I’ll drop you at the house before I call the vet.’
Merry hesitated, aware that she was dripping with perspiration and almost certainly smelled of goat. It wasn’t the kind of professional image a Writer in Residence should project, she felt, especially not to the always perfectly groomed Clare Watson.
But Hugh picked up on her reticence and grinned. ‘Och, don’t fret. Clare’s just back from shearing the llamas. She smells worse than you.’
It wasn’t the most reassuring thing he might have said, but Merry suddenly felt desperate for some water. She’d left her bottle back at the croft, not realizing how long it would take her to walk Gordon to the Watson farm, and her throat was dry and sore. She needn’t stay long, she told herself. Just long enough to quench her thirst and make sure Gordon would be okay.
Clare Watson did not look or smell as though she’d spent the morning among the llama flock; in fact, she looked impossibly glamorous for a farmer’s wife. She insisted on making tea and fussing around Merry while Hugh went off to call the vet, showing her to the bathroom and pressing fluffy towels into her arms, telling her to use anything she wanted.
‘I’ve got some trousers and a jumper that will fit you if you want to take a shower,’ she said, and Merry looked at her glossy blonde hair and fresh-faced complexion and was almost tempted.
‘No, a good wash will do for now,’ she said after a momentary hesitation. ‘Thanks, though.’
Ten minutes later, she felt more human, if not quite up to Clare’s standard of grooming. Several long gulps of strong tea helped, as did a slice of featherlight angel food cake from Rossi’s.
‘Do I even want to know what Gordon did to make you frog-march him over the fields back to us?’ Clare asked, once Merry was sitting at the long wooden table in the light and airy kitchen. ‘Is it going to be very expensive?’
Merry explained and the other woman’s hands flew to her face. ‘Not La Perla! Oh god, I’m so sorry – we’ll replace it, of course. The last time he did something like this, it was a pair of M&S boxer shorts and the writer threatened to call the police.’
‘Really?’ Merry said, and she couldn’t suppress a smile at the image of Gordon with a pair of boxers in his mouth. ‘I’m not going to do that. I was worried about the underwire, that’s all. Google suggested it might cause serious problems.’
Clare gave a little snort. ‘That goat has more lives than a cat – I’m sure he’ll be fine. But thank you for bringing him to us. It was really kind of you.’
‘I tried calling, but Hugh says you’ve been out with the llamas this morning,’ Merry said.
‘Every day is a shearing day in summer,’ Clare replied. ‘We rotate the flock so that we have a constant supply of fibre to spin into wool. Would you like to go and meet them?’
Merry sipped her tea, privately wondering whether she’d had enough of livestock for one day, but there didn’t seem to be a polite way to refuse. Besides, she never knew when she might need to know about llama farming for a book. ‘Okay,’ she said, smiling. ‘That would be lovely.’
‘I’ll lend you some wellies,’ Clare said, glancing down at Merry’s running shoes. ‘Things can get a bit agricultural, if you know what I mean.’
The llamas were dotted across four fields, each with a modern-looking barn at one end. There was a concrete yard in front of the nearest barn and that was where Clare said they did the shearing.
‘Do the llamas mind?’ Merry said, studying one slender-nosed animal whose fringe was flopping across its long-lashed eyes, giving it the look of a sulky teenager.
‘They’re used to it,’ Clare said. ‘Most of our flock has been with us for a few years now and we’re careful about breeding so there aren’t a lot of youngsters.’
It was clearly a well-managed operation, Merry thought as Clare showed her the inside of one barn. They kept cows and sheep too, Clare explained, plus chickens for their eggs. ‘Having the llamas around deters the foxes too,’ she said. ‘They’re better than guard dogs.’
It wasn’t until they were back in the farmhouse, with more tea and a packet of chocolate Hobnobs, that Clare asked outright if Merry was sleeping with Magnús.
‘No!’ Merry exclaimed, feeling her face flush right to the roots of her hair. ‘That would be very difficult, given he’s not on Orkney right now.’
Clare tipped her head to concede the point. ‘True enough.’ She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. ‘But before he went – had you sealed the deal?’
It was an incredibly personal question, Merry thought, but somehow she couldn’t hold it against Clare. It wasn’t the first time she’d shown interest in Merry’s relationship with Magnús, and she had discovered him at the croft the morning after Merry had fallen ill. It wasn’t a total surprise she was curious about what had happened.
‘No,’ Merry said, and couldn’t prevent a sigh from escaping her. ‘And after the conversation we had yesterday, I’m not sure we ever will.’
Magnús had called just after lunchtime, when Merry had been on her way to Kirkwall. Knowing he might not find the time to ring back if she didn’t take the call, she’d pulled the Mini over beside the tranquil Loch of Stenness and answered.
‘Hi,’ she said cheerfully. ‘How are you?’
But it soon became clear that Magnús had more on his mind than just catching up. His voice was subdued as he told her his mother was out of intensive care.
‘But that’s good news,’ Merry said, her brows knitting together in confusion. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘It is,’ he replied. ‘But she’s still very weak. The doctors say it will take months for her to recover and she’ll need a lot of care in that time. And it doesn’t feel fair that my sister should have to do that on her own.’
Merry felt as though a stone had settled in the pit of her stomach as she absorbed his meaning. ‘Right,’ she said softly. ‘So, you’re goi
ng to stay there.’
He sighed. ‘It’s the proper thing to do. Lara needs to work – she can’t spare all the time our mother needs. If I’m here, we can split the care between us.’ There was a short pause. ‘But I’m afraid that causes difficulty elsewhere.’
Difficulty was something of an understatement, Merry thought. The distance between Reykjavik and Orkney wasn’t huge in terms of miles, but it was a difficult journey whichever way you travelled. It certainly wasn’t a quick commute, nor was it cheap; Magnús wouldn’t be able to keep his boatbuilding business running, or his summer tours around the islands. But perhaps – perhaps – they might still be able to make a relationship work, if they both committed to the idea. It wouldn’t always be like this, after all.
‘Don’t think I haven’t considered it,’ he said when Merry made the suggestion. ‘I’ve been racking my brains, trying to think of ways to make things easier. But…’
He trailed off and panic dug its claws into Merry’s insides.
‘It could work,’ she said, before he could finish the sentence. ‘I could come to see you for the weekend, you could come here. Or even to London, once I’m back – there are loads of flights between Reykjavik and the London airports.’
‘The trouble is that I know it wouldn’t be enough,’ Magnús said, and his voice was so yearning that Merry thought she might cry. ‘I don’t want half a relationship with you – I want all of it. I want to wake up with you in the mornings, without the constant pressure of the clock ticking in the background. I want to be able to drive over to see you if the mood takes me, to invite you on a spontaneous picnic or go and catch a band one evening. You deserve someone who can give you all of that, Merry, especially after the way Alex treated you. And… I’m sorry that I can’t be the one to make you believe in love again. Not right now, anyway.’
Merry’s head whirled. This couldn’t be happening… not again. ‘But—’
‘I can’t do it – not now. And not for a long time,’ he went on gently. ‘I’ve watched you mend your heart after the pain Alex caused you – I like to think I’ve even helped put the odd piece back in place, here and there. But it would be wrong of me to stand in your way now, when I can’t offer anything more than half my attention and even less of my time. It’s not the kind of man I am.’
He’d been so determined, so implacable in his belief that this was the right thing to do, that eventually she had been forced to accept it. She’d driven to Kirkwall, had called in at Rossi’s to see Helen and Morag, and visited the library to finalize the details of Jess’s visit the following week. And, throughout, she’d held it together, hadn’t let even a shred of the disappointment and sadness that was dragging at her heart to show. It wasn’t until she was back at the croft, gazing out across Brightwater Bay, that she allowed herself to mourn. Then she’d phoned Jess and let her no-nonsense common sense soothe away the hurt.
‘I know it feels shit,’ Jess had said. ‘And it’s a bloody awful situation. But at least he was honest.’
Merry sniffed and felt her lip wobble. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. ‘Yeah, I know.’
‘And thank god for a man with the emotional intelligence to step back when he can’t give a woman what she needs,’ Jess went on. ‘At least you know where you stand, babes. That’s something.’
And now Clare Watson was reaching across the table to squeeze Merry’s hand and saying almost exactly the same thing. ‘It sucks. And it doesn’t matter how much you can see it’s the right thing, it still hurts.’
Merry nodded. ‘It feels a bit better today. I went for a run along the cliffs and that helped me get a few things straight in my head.’ She took a Hobnob and dunked it in her tea. ‘And in a funny way, Gordon helped too. Took my mind off things, anyway.’
Clare laughed. ‘There’s nothing quite like a goat eating your designer lingerie for that. Sorry again.’
‘Don’t apologize,’ Merry said and shook her head. ‘It’s not as though I’ll be needing it any time soon.’
Hugh appeared a few minutes later, with the vet right behind him. ‘No trace of the wire,’ he said in answer to Clare’s question. ‘I bet the attention-seeking little bugger hid it somewhere.’
His wife snorted. ‘Sometimes I wonder what Gordon actually brings to life on the farm.’
‘Good looks, charm and a cracking personality,’ Hugh said, deadpan. ‘A bit like me.’
The laughter that followed lifted Merry’s spirits a little bit more and she decided it might almost have been worth losing her precious lingerie for – although she’d already decided she would be drying the Agent Provocateur set indoors from now on. Once was more than enough to teach her a lesson.
Chapter Twenty
There was no mistaking the look of trauma in Jess’s eyes when she walked into the Arrivals Hall at Kirkwall Airport on Friday afternoon, but Merry suspected it wasn’t the flight from Aberdeen that had caused it. Jess was followed by a cluster of other passengers, mostly women, who were looking at her as though she were Beyoncé. And they showed no signs of going about their own business now that they’d reached their destination; in fact, they seemed intent on sticking close to Jess as she spotted Merry and sped up.
‘Uh oh,’ Niall said as he clocked the group too. ‘I think Jess might have been recognized.’
‘I’ll leave you to handle them,’ Merry murmured and strode forward to hug her best friend. ‘Hello. How was your journey?’
Jess didn’t let go, holding Merry close. ‘What is this place? They knew who I was before we even got on the plane,’ she whispered. ‘They demanded selfies.’
Merry smiled as she stepped back. ‘Welcome to Orkney, where writers are pretty much treated like rock stars. You get used to it after a while.’
Whatever Niall said to the group of women who’d been following Jess worked, because they hurriedly dispersed, albeit with several excited glances at her as they went. He came to stand beside Merry and held out a hand. ‘I’m Niall Gunn, the librarian here on Orkney. Lovely to meet you at last.’
Merry watched as the impact of his smile registered on Jess. ‘You have no idea how pleased I am to meet you,’ Jess said, flashing her own killer smile. ‘Merry’s talked so much about you that I feel like I already know you.’
And now Merry saw Niall notice Jess properly, watched him take in her wavy blonde hair, tanned skin and dimpled cheeks. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen her best friend’s charms have this effect, but it was the first time she’d felt a tiny stirring of something resembling unease deep in the pit of her stomach.
What’s that about, she wondered, even as she squashed the feeling flat.
‘Only good things, I hope?’ Niall said, his cheeks growing faintly pink.
‘Of course,’ Jess said. ‘She’s done nothing but rave about Orkney since she got here. I actually think you might have trouble getting her to leave.’
As usual, Niall seemed delighted to hear that Merry spoke well of the islands. ‘Well, we try our best.’ He waved an arm towards the doors, exactly the way he had when Merry had first arrived four months earlier. ‘The car is this way. Can I carry your case?’
Jess allowed him to take the pull-up handle and waited until he’d turned away to mouth, ‘Oh my god!’ at Merry.
She waited until he was a further few metres ahead to lean in close. ‘He is insanely gorgeous. Why aren’t you banging him?’
Merry’s gaze shot forwards to ensure Niall was definitely out of hearing. ‘Jess, he’s right there!’
‘Believe me, I know,’ Jess said emphatically. ‘I can’t take my eyes off him. Please tell me he doesn’t still think you’re with Alex.’
Merry’s cheeks burned. ‘No, he doesn’t. Now can we drop this? He’s going to hear you!’
Jess gave her a look that was entirely unconcerned. ‘We can drop it for now. But at some point over this weekend, you and I are going to have a serious conversation about this. Because he,’ she pointed at Niall’s retreating back,
‘is too fine an opportunity to pass up.’
For a fleeting moment, Merry felt panic at the thought of all the damage her best friend’s well-meaning interference might cause. And then she remembered that this was Jess, who would never do anything to hurt her, and the panic was washed away by a wave of happiness that she was on Orkney at last. ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ she blurted out, and was surprised by the sudden prick of tears at the back of her eyes.
‘Me too,’ Jess said, looping her arm through Merry’s. ‘We’re going to have a blast.’
* * *
Niall had been all set to book Jess into The Harbour Lights Hotel in Kirkwall but she was having none of it.
‘What’s the point in coming all the way up here to see you and staying twenty miles away?’ she’d asked Merry, when they’d been planning the visit. ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa at your place – it’ll be like old times.’
Merry, who’d been sitting on the sofa of the croft at the time, had looked doubtfully at its two-seater capacity. ‘I don’t think that’s an option. Not unless you want to wake up with sciatica.’
But Jess hadn’t been deterred, not even when Merry sent her a photo of the sofa. And now she was standing in the living room of the croft, gazing at the sofa with undisguised suspicion. ‘Yeah, I’m not sleeping on that.’
Merry nodded. ‘I thought you’d say that. So, either I can ring Niall and ask him to book you into a hotel in Kirkwall for the next few nights or we can share the double bed.’
‘No brainer,’ Jess said, grinning. ‘The bottle of tequila I brought isn’t going to get drunk if you have to drive back here every evening.’
The bottle of tequila wasn’t going to get drunk even if Jess was staying at the croft, Merry wanted to point out, but she knew better than to risk throwing down a gauntlet like that. ‘Why don’t I give you the grand tour?’ she said. ‘It’ll take all of ninety seconds.’
Coming Home to Brightwater Bay Page 23