Coming Home to Brightwater Bay

by Holly Hepburn

  Merry was unaccountably nervous when she arrived at the library for the ceilidh on the last Saturday in July.

  It wasn’t that she was anxious about the dancing; everyone had assured her there would be a caller giving clear instructions on what to do and when. And it wasn’t because the night represented the official end to her duties as Orkney’s Writer in Residence, although she was sorry her tenure was coming to an end – but not as sorry as she might have been if she was heading back to London on Monday morning. Thanks to Clare’s sensible suggestion, she’d raised the idea of staying on at the croft with Niall and he’d been delighted to negotiate an extension to her tenancy lasting until the end of the year. But despite the lack of a tangible reason, there was no denying the pins and needles in Merry’s fingers, or the rapid thud of her heart, as she stepped from the taxi and approached the library.

  She paused for a moment in the courtyard, taking in the fairy lights that adorned the walls and listening to the buzz of conversation and laughter that floated from the library itself. She’d done so many public events here over the past six months and none had made her feel as unsettled as she did now. But there was no backing out – the whole evening had been arranged in her honour – so she straightened her calf-length red dress and smoothed her 1940s-style curls behind their rose-covered clips and went inside.

  The lobby was thronged with people, all dressed in Forties finery. The women had really made an effort, Merry noted with delight; the dresses were a kaleidoscope of vintage colour and the hairstyles covered every style from victory rolls to pin curls. Many of the men had opted for traditional dress, in kilts and sashes and knee-high socks, but a few were dressed in suits and ties. It was a sight to gladden Merry’s heart and she was pleased she’d gone to town on her own outfit.

  The first person to catch Merry’s eye was Sheila, who wore an elegant tea dress that Merry suspected was genuinely from the wartime era.

  ‘Don’t you look lovely!’ her silver-haired neighbour exclaimed, looking Merry up and down with evident satisfaction. ‘I can’t take all the credit, of course, but those runs along the cliffs have put roses in your cheeks to rival the ones in your hair.’

  Merry laughed. ‘It’s definitely all down to you, Sheila. I’d have sat on my sofa all year if you hadn’t encouraged me to join you.’

  Sheila beamed at her. ‘And now that you’re staying on, the best is yet to come,’ she said. ‘I’ll have you running a marathon before you know it.’

  Niall appeared beside them. ‘Don’t scare the poor woman, Sheila. She might decide to go back to London on Monday after all.’

  ‘We wouldn’t want that,’ Sheila observed, raising a knowing eyebrow at Niall. ‘But I’m sure you two have official business to discuss now, so I’ll leave you to it.’

  She raised her glass and moved towards another group, which Merry saw contained Bridget and several other members of Sheila’s book group.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Niall asked, smiling at Merry. ‘Ready to celebrate?’

  She tipped her head. ‘Sort of. I’m weirdly nervous, to be honest.’

  ‘You don’t look it,’ he said. ‘In fact, you look beautiful.’

  He blushed slightly as he said it but Merry noticed his gaze was steady. ‘Thank you. You look great too. Very dapper.’

  Glancing down at his kilt, he nodded. ‘It’s kind of you to say so but I think we can both agree I don’t have the knees for this. Still, it’s tradition and I don’t mind sacrificing my dignity in honour of you.’

  It wasn’t true, Merry thought. There was nothing wrong with his knees or any other part of him, as far as she could tell. But she felt some of her anxiety slip away as she smiled. ‘I’m suitably grateful. What’s the plan? I assume we’ll do the talking bit before the dancing starts?’

  He nodded. ‘We’ll open the doors to the hall shortly and let people take a seat. Then, once the speeches are done, you’ll be presented with a small token of thanks from the Literary Society and the readers of Orkney. And after that, you’d better be ready to dance. I suspect you’re not going to be short of partners.’

  ‘Poor them,’ Merry said. ‘I hope they won’t mind me treading on their toes.’

  Niall grinned. ‘It’s your own toes you should be worried about. We’re not all Billy Elliott, you know.’ He paused and looked around. ‘Want to come and have a sneaky peek at the hall? The library staff have worked wonders getting it ready for tonight – it’s like stepping back seventy-five years.’

  Merry felt her face light up. ‘Absolutely. I can’t wait to see it.’

  ‘Then follow me,’ he said, and snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. ‘I know you don’t normally drink before an event but this is a very special occasion.’

  She took the glass he offered her and sipped. ‘Maybe one won’t hurt. It might even help.’

  As always, the hall had been set up with row after row of seats, all facing a small, spot-lit stage. But Merry barely noticed. She was too busy admiring the sumptuous decorations that lined the walls, the glorious art-deco bar that lined the back wall, and the perfect 1940s vibe of the seating on the stage. There were four winged armchairs, a Winchester rug and even a gramophone on a stand. A tall standard lamp stood behind one of the chairs and she spotted vintage teacups with saucers laid out on the table instead of the usual bottles of water.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ she said, shaking her head in wonderment. ‘What a transformation.’

  ‘We’ll move the chairs once the presentation is over, and bring in some tables for around the edges,’ Niall said. ‘And the band will take the stage, obviously.’

  Merry marvelled at the hall again. ‘This is incredible. Thank you.’

  Niall shrugged. ‘Don’t thank me, thank the library staff. I’m just as blown away as you.’ He paused and gave her a sidelong look. ‘Now, there’s someone I think you need to see before we kick things off. Wait here a minute and I’ll go and find her.’

  Merry frowned as he hurried away, wondering who on earth he meant. Perhaps there was someone on the Literary Society she ought to meet. She waited, sipping her champagne as she found new details in the decorations to admire. And then there was a click as the door to the hall opened. Merry looked over and almost dropped her glass. Standing in the doorway was Jess.

  ‘Hi, babes,’ she said, her vintage shoes clicking on the wooden floor as she came towards Merry. ‘Surprise!’

  Merry’s eyes flooded. ‘Oh my god! What are you doing here?’

  Jess threw her an innocent look. ‘Oh, you know. I just happened to be passing and thought I’d drop in.’ She stopped a few feet away from Merry. ‘Are you pleased to see me?’

  ‘Pleased?’ Merry echoed and hurried forward to throw her arms around her best friend. ‘I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life!’

  Jess hugged her back and Merry closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to ruin her carefully applied make-up.

  ‘You didn’t reply to my message saying sorry,’ she said, standing back and sniffing. ‘I thought you hated me.’

  Jess shook her head. ‘Of course I don’t hate you. I wanted to give you a bloody good shake to make you see sense but that’s not the same thing. And when I thought about it, I figured it was better to sort things out face-to-face. Less risk of any more misunderstandings.’ She hesitated, then sighed. ‘And I owe you an apology too because I have a small confession to make. I might have slightly pretended to be interested in Niall to make you jealous.’

  Merry’s mouth fell open. ‘What? Why?’

  ‘I know, it wasn’t my finest moment,’ Jess said, with an embarrassed shudder. ‘But I thought it might make you realize how you felt about him and – I don’t know – snog him to within an inch of his life or something.’

  ‘Jess!’

  Her best friend eyed her slyly. ‘It worked, though. Niall says you’re staying on here for a few months – that’s so you can have lots of hot sex with each ot
her, right?’

  She ought to be angry, Merry thought, but it was impossible to feel anything other than relief and joy. ‘Maybe,’ she said, feeling the beginnings of a blush warm her cheeks. ‘I still have no idea if that’s what he wants.’

  ‘He does,’ Jess replied firmly. ‘Trust me, he really, really does.’

  Merry had no idea how she could be so certain and decided she didn’t want to ask. But there was something she did want to know. ‘So, you know when we did the Radio Orkney interview, and you said there was someone you had your eye on – was that part of your plan to make me feel jealous?’

  Jess frowned. ‘What? No, of course not. I meant Andrew, you idiot.’ She rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. ‘Anyone with half a brain could see that, let alone the person who’s supposed to know me best.’

  ‘Ohhh,’ Merry said. It all made perfect sense. ‘Oh, and he likes you too! Niall told me he’s been asking after you – you should definitely speak to him while you’re here.’

  ‘Way ahead of you, Mer,’ Jess said, her eyes sparkling with affectionate amusement. ‘Unlike you, it doesn’t take me six months to work out what I want. And maybe Brightwater Bay will have another Chiswick author for a tenant next year.’

  ‘Really?’ Merry squeaked and brought her hands together in a gesture that was half prayer, half applause. ‘That would be so awesome.’

  ‘It’s not a done deal,’ Jess warned. ‘But you didn’t leave me much choice – I’m not sure I can cope with another six months without you.’

  Merry thought her face might crack if her smile got any wider. ‘I’m so glad you’re here now.’

  ‘Me too,’ Jess replied. ‘Now let’s get another drink. I intend to be very tipsy indeed by the time the dancing starts.’

  Niall made a beeline for them as soon as they returned to the lobby. ‘All okay?’ he asked, his eyes resting on Merry.

  ‘Everything is perfect,’ she said, beaming at him. ‘How long have you known she was coming?’

  ‘About a week,’ he admitted. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you – Jess swore me to secrecy.’

  ‘No need to apologize,’ Merry said. ‘It was a lovely surprise. Thank you for helping to make it happen.’

  Jess cleared her throat. ‘Do you mind if I leave you to it for a bit, babes? There’s someone I really need to see.’

  Merry followed her gaze and saw Andrew, dressed in what looked an awful lot like a Viking version of a kilt, in amongst some of the other Highland Park gang. ‘Go ahead,’ she said. ‘We can catch up later, after the speeches.’

  ‘And talking of the speeches,’ Niall said, as Jess headed towards Andrew, ‘we should probably kick those off. Let me go and open the hall doors and make an announcement for people to take their seats.’

  By the time everyone had filtered into the hall – among gasps of admiration, Merry was pleased to note – and filled up the rows of seats, Merry had begun to feel nervous again. But no sooner than her hands started to shake than Niall was beside her on the stage.

  ‘One last job to do,’ he murmured encouragingly. ‘Then you can enjoy yourself.’

  The other guests took their seats: Hamish Burns, the chair of Orkney Literary Society, and Morag Rossi, who Merry was going to present with a specially bound edition of her new novel. Niall stood up and raised his hands, and immediately the room fell quiet.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, what a pleasure it is to welcome you here tonight, as we gather to celebrate another wonderful contribution from Orkney’s Writer in Residence scheme.’ He glanced around the room and smiled. ‘As you know, our hope at the start of each residency is that the chosen writer will encourage people to read more. Judging from the incredible turnout tonight, and at every other event we’ve run this year, that hope has more than been realized.’

  He turned to glance at Merry, eyes shining. ‘We always try to choose an author who will appeal to as wide a demographic as possible, as well as someone who will help to show our beautiful islands in a positive light through their writing. I think it’s safe to say that this time, we chose very well indeed. But you don’t need to take my word for it – now I’d like to hand over to Hamish Burns, who is going to talk about some of the remarkable ways this year’s Writer in Residence has promoted Orkney.’

  Hamish got to his feet amid a smattering of applause. ‘Thank you, Niall. I’ll be the first to admit I hadn’t read much of Merina Wilde’s previous work before she came to Orkney.’ He cast a sheepish look at Merry, who smiled. ‘But from the moment Niall put one of her novels in my hands, I was hooked. And as Niall has just suggested, her work as our Writer in Residence has exceeded all expectations. Who could forget her electrifying short story about the fate of Skara Brae all those centuries ago? Or her haunting retelling of Betty Corrigall’s tragic tale? But I’m sure you will all agree that the cherry on the cake – the one we never dreamed might be possible – is the novel Merina has written during her time here. A story set on Orkney, inspired by our very own islanders, and soon to be transformed into a major Hollywood movie starring Nick Borrowdale and Emily Martins.’

  An excited murmuring rose from the crowd even as Niall gave Merry a stricken look. He got to his feet and whispered something to Hamish, who cleared his throat. ‘I’m told that last piece of information is still a secret so – er – please keep it to yourselves. But regardless of that, I’d like to extend our warmest thanks to Merina, who has been everything we wanted in a role model and more. And as a token of our gratitude, we’d like to present you with a small gift.’

  Niall stood up and motioned for Merry to join him as he handed Hamish a small box. Certain her cheeks must be bright red from all the praise the two of them had heaped upon her, Merry stepped forward.

  ‘Many thanks for all your enthusiasm and hard work, Merina,’ Hamish said and gave her the box. ‘We’re delighted that you’ll be staying on in an unofficial capacity for a few months more.’

  The crowd burst into applause as he shook Merry’s hand. Beside him, Niall conjured an enormous bouquet seemingly out of thin air and presented it to Merry, grinning as it almost eclipsed her head. Then both men stepped back and allowed Merry to take the microphone.

  ‘Thank you, Hamish,’ she said, doing her best to juggle the flowers and the box until Niall stepped forward and took them both. ‘And thank you, Niall. You’re always there when I need you.’

  His eyes met hers and, for a moment, she forgot where she was. Then reality crashed back in. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she gazed out at the audience and tried to remember what she’d planned to say. A sea of faces returned her gaze, some now familiar and dear to her, others less so, but every single one seemed to wear a smile. The last of her nerves vanished as she smiled back at them.

  ‘As some of you will know, I came to Orkney looking for magic. I’d lost my way with writing, was struggling to finish the novel I was being paid to write, and I wondered if I’d ever enjoy my work again. But I’m delighted to say I found everything I needed here and more. Everyone I’ve met in the last six months has given me something – a name, a story, a location or perhaps even a secret – and I couldn’t have dreamed that I’d feel so inspired.’ She turned to look at Morag. ‘And some people gave me more than one single story. Some people, like Morag here, gave me their whole lives.’

  Merry took a step back and reached under her chair, where Niall had left a white box inscribed with Morag’s name.

  ‘I’m incredibly grateful to Morag for letting me use her story as the inspiration to create one of my own. In this box is a special, one-of-a-kind edition of the novel I wrote after hearing Morag and Giovanni’s love story. I’d like to present it to you now, Morag, along with my undying thanks. You’ll also find the novel is dedicated to you and your husband.’

  Once again, the crowd broke into applause, this time with deafening whoops and cheers, as Merry planted a gentle kiss on Morag’s papery cheeks and placed the box in her hands. ‘Thank you so much,’ she s
aid, surprised to feel tears pricking at the back of her eyes as she looked at Morag.

  ‘Thank you for making our story live for ever,’ Morag replied. She stood up and made her way slowly to the front of the stage. ‘I know I’m not meant to make a speech but I’ve never been one for doing as I’m told.’

  A wave of laughter rolled across the hall, then died away as Morag opened her mouth to speak again. ‘Giovanni was never really one for romance but I reckon he’d have loved the story our Merry has written here. As most of you know, he came here as a prisoner of war, but he always used to say it was love that made him stay. And that’s what you’ll find in this book – love. Romantic love, family love, patriotic love but most of all, the capacity we all have to love each other. And I don’t know about you, but I think that’s something we all need to do more, no matter who we are. So, make sure you read it!’

  The applause as Morag retook her seat was thunderous and went on for what felt like minutes, resisting all attempts to quieten it down. Merry leaned across to Niall. ‘I need to employ Morag as my publicist. She’s fantastic!’

  Niall grinned. ‘I know. I’d better double my order of the book for publication day – I think you’re going to surpass Jess as the most stolen author in the library.’

  Once the crowd finally fell silent again, Niall took the microphone once more. ‘Thanks for that ringing endorsement, Morag. I don’t think you could ask for a better review than that, Merry – “make sure you read it!” You should put that on the front cover.’

  There was more laughter. ‘You’ll be glad to know it’s almost time for the dancing,’ Niall went on. ‘If we can ask you all to move into the lobby area again, we’ll clear this room and let you know when it’s ready. But before you do that, can we thank Hamish, Morag and, of course, Merry, for being here this evening.’

  It took a further ten minutes for the audience to disperse, during which Merry chatted to Morag and Hamish. But it wasn’t until the two other guests had left the stage and the room was almost empty that she thought to open the box Hamish had given her. Inside, she found a delicate necklace: a glistening silver-cased oblong of polished blue and grey and green gemstone. And through the centre, there was a hole.