Coming Home to Brightwater Bay

by Holly Hepburn

  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 Twenty-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 sparkling 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 of Orcadians bearing whisky.’

  * * *

  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 con
versation 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, who 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 they’re on sale in all good bookshops.’