He concentrated on making her a cup of tea before speaking again. ‘So, it’s coming along? The book, I mean.’
Merry considered the 75,000 words of story on her laptop and felt the usual cautious bubble of excitement when she thought about how well it was knitting together. It would need an edit, of course, and she had no real idea whether it would all make sense when she read it back, but it was definitely taking shape. At her current rate of work, she’d finish it by the end of April, which was coincidentally the time when she was meant to deliver the book her agent and publisher thought she’d been working on. But she’d face that problem when she reached it.
‘I think so,’ she said to Niall. ‘I’m enjoying writing it, anyway.’
He nodded. ‘And have you told your publisher you’ve decided to switch genre and write a historical Second World War novel?’
‘No, because I’d quite like to keep enjoying the writing and if I tell them, they might want me to stop,’ she said. ‘As a wise person once said, it’s easier to ask forgiveness than seek permission.’
Niall pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘Wasn’t that Ron Weasley?’
Merry laughed. ‘I have no idea but it works for me.’
‘And you don’t think they’ll mind that you’re working on this book, rather than the one they’re expecting.’
It was a question that had kept Merry awake on more than one occasion, but there was no scheduled publication date for the novel she ought to have been writing; her agent hadn’t wanted to create any false pressure on Merry and her editor had agreed. Even the delivery date of the end of April was more of a guide than a hard deadline. ‘I’m hoping they will just be glad I’m writing again.’
‘A story inspired by Orkney, too,’ Niall said. ‘How could they not be glad?’
Merry hoped he was right. ‘How is the delegate list looking for today?’ she asked, changing the subject before he could ask any more uncomfortable questions.
He handed over a sheet of paper and grinned. ‘You’ve got a full house – twenty eager writers, all set to soak up everything you have to teach.’
She took the list and read the names. As she’d expected, Sheila was there, along with her partner in crime, Bridget; they’d be a handful but nothing Merry couldn’t cope with. And George Armstrong’s name was there too; he was the self-published author Niall had previously warned her about, who thought he knew all there was to know about writing already, but she’d dealt with that type before too. She was surprised to see Clare Watson’s name on the register and said as much to Niall, who told her Clare had signed up after meeting her and was looking forward to the day immensely. And then, right at the bottom, she saw another name she recognized: Magnús Ólafsson.
‘What?’ she muttered, blinking in disbelief.
‘I have no idea,’ Niall said, when she asked if he knew why Magnús had enrolled on the course. ‘Maybe he thinks he has a novel in him too, like at least half the population.’
Merry squared her shoulders. It would be awkward seeing him – they hadn’t really talked much since their ill-fated kiss under the aurora borealis – but he had as much right as anyone to attend the day if he wanted to polish his writing skills. It might even give them the chance to clear the air and get back to being friends, she thought wistfully. Because although she’d been wrapped up in writing for the past month, that didn’t mean she hadn’t missed his messages.
‘There was something I wanted to ask you,’ Niall said, as they made their way downstairs to inspect the room where Merry’s workshop would take place. ‘How well do you know the author Jessie Edwards?’
Merry stopped on the stairs. ‘Pretty well,’ she said cautiously. ‘Why?’
‘We’ve had several requests to invite her to Orkney – she’s built up quite a fanbase here over the last few months – and I wondered whether you might like to do an event together, that’s all.’
‘I’d like that a lot,’ Merry said, beaming at him. ‘She’s one of my very best friends.’
‘Ah,’ Niall said, and gave her a pleased look. ‘I’ll get in touch, see if she’d like to come and visit.’
Merry though back to the many times Jess had threatened to come up to Orkney and matchmake. ‘I can honestly say she’d like nothing better,’ she said ruefully, and realized she’d have to come clean about her relationship with Alex before then. The last thing she needed was for Jess to drop the truth on an unsuspecting Niall.
‘Excellent,’ he said, and pushed open the door to Merry’s classroom for the day. ‘Now, is there anything you think you’ll need?’
*
The workshop was going well, Merry thought as she gazed around the room just before lunch. The delegates had varying levels of experience; some hadn’t written since school, others had dabbled but never made anything stick, and others, like George Armstrong, saw Merry as his ticket to the kind of million-pound book deal he assumed all authors got these days. She’d been tempted to explain the realities of publishing to him – that million-pound book deals were usually the domain of celebrity authors, whose fame could command sales in huge numbers, but she doubted he would listen. So, instead, she focused on offering what advice she thought he might take. Right now, all the delegates were engrossed in an exercise involving the Three Act Story Structure and she hoped they were enjoying it. Sheila and Bridget seemed especially enthusiastic and Merry suspected the story plan they were giggling over owed more than a shade to Jess’s outrageous plots.
By contrast, Magnús had been the perfect student and, once Merry had got over the treacherous surge of lust she’d felt when standing near enough to read his work, she’d been pleasantly surprised by the lyrical quality of his writing. He hadn’t tried to engage her in conversation, had been respectful of her role in leading the workshop and had worked hard. But then, once she’d got over the surprise of seeing his name on the list of attendees, she hadn’t really expected anything else.
Niall appeared just before midday to inform them all that a buffet lunch had been provided in the main hall. Merry wrapped up the session and told them they would start again in an hour. She watched them all file out and smiled when Niall told her he’d taken some food up to his office.
‘I know you’ll want some alone time,’ he said, with a sympathetic smile.
‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully.
She was just about to head upstairs when she saw Magnús waiting nearby, clearly trying to catch her eye. ‘You go up,’ she told Niall. ‘I’ll be there in just a minute.’
Her insides lurched on cue as she got near to Magnús. ‘Good work this morning,’ she said, doing her best to squash the sudden burst of attraction that threatened her composure. ‘You’ve got a real talent for writing – have you done much before?’
‘Some,’ he admitted. ‘But not for many years. It’s surprising how quickly the knack for inventing stories comes back. I can see why you love it so much.’
She lifted her eyebrows. ‘It’s certainly kept me busy over the last month. How have you been?’
His green eyes met hers. ‘Fine. I’ve been busy too, working.’ He cleared his throat and she thought he looked almost nervous; it was such a departure from his usual confident manner that Merry found herself staring. ‘So, anyway, I’ve been thinking and I know you said you don’t want any complications and that’s fine – I don’t either – but I can’t help thinking about that night when we . . . under the aurora, and I wondered maybe if you might like to give things a go. As in go on a date. With me.’
And now Merry stared even more, because not only was he not acting like the Magnús she knew, but he didn’t sound like him either. ‘I thought we agreed that was a bad idea,’ she said slowly.
He shrugged, and she thought she caught a glimmer of his old confidence. ‘We did. But here’s the thing – life is short and I try to live it so that I can look back at the end with no regrets.’ He hesitated, as though trying to work out what to say, then plunged on. ‘And I think I would
very much regret not taking this opportunity to get to know you better, Merry.’
She almost didn’t catch the last sentence because she was distracted by his lips and the memory of kissing them. The trouble was that she wanted the same thing – to get to know him better – but she had the horrible feeling that the more she got to know him, the harder it would be to leave at the end of her time on Orkney. And she was doing so well with her writing – did she really want to risk derailing her progress by indulging in a romance that was doomed from the start?
‘Magnús—’ she began but was distracted by the sudden buzz of her phone in her pocket.
‘Don’t decide now,’ he said quickly. ‘Think about it for a day or two and let me know.’
But Merry wasn’t really listening; she was staring at her phone and wondering why on earth her agent was calling her, on a Saturday of all days. It had to be something serious for Phoebe to interrupt her weekend with work.
‘Sorry,’ she told Magnús in a preoccupied voice, ‘I need to take this call.’
She hurried outside to the courtyard at the front of the library, where a couple of delegates were smoking. Finding an empty corner, Merry answered the phone.
‘Hi, Phoebe, how are you?’
‘I’m not bad,’ her agent replied, in a tone that somehow managed to sound irritated and excited at the same time. ‘I’ve just had a very strange conversation with a film producer from LA. Can I ask when exactly you were going to tell me you’d written a historical novel set on Second World War Orkney, Merina?’
Merry felt her blood run cold. ‘Oh.’
‘Yes,’ Phoebe said. ‘Oh. Because I was under the impression that you were busy working on the book you are contracted to write. The one your editor is expecting to receive at the end of this month.’ There was a pause, during which Merry wanted to vanish into a hole in the ground. ‘Does this mean you won’t be delivering that book?’
‘Probably,’ Merry said, wincing. ‘On the plus side, I think my writer’s block is better.’
‘I’m very glad to hear that,’ Phoebe said dryly. ‘It might have been nice to talk about this change of direction before you went hell for leather after it, don’t you think? And it might have been better if I’d actually heard about it from you, rather than from a total stranger.’
Merry closed her eyes. She had no defence, absolutely none, other than the certain belief that nothing would ever come of Sam Silverton’s interest in her story. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I was going to tell you, but it was all going so well and I didn’t want you to tell me to stop.’
There was a long silence and then she heard Phoebe sigh. ‘I’m on your side, Merry. I want you to get better and write things you’re passionate about. But you need to keep me in the loop. I can’t fight your corner if you keep me in the dark.’
She was absolutely right, of course. ‘No, I know,’ Merry said. ‘Sorry.’
This time, Phoebe’s sigh was more impatient. ‘Stop saying you’re sorry. Luckily for you, it seems this producer wants to option the book, based on the outline you gave him. He’s been sounding out studios and has one on board already, pending all the usual legal stuff.’
Merry almost dropped the phone. ‘What?’
‘And the reason that’s lucky is that a potential film deal will obviously make your publisher very happy and might soften the blow that you’re not actually writing the book they think you are.’
‘What?’ Merry said again, unable to believe what she was hearing. ‘Did you really just say Sam wants to option the idea? And that he’s got a studio on board already?’
‘Apparently,’ Phoebe said. ‘Look, I’m sorry to drag you away from your island retreat, but I think we’re going to have to do some damage limitation with your editor. Why don’t you come down to London for a couple of days and I’ll set up lunch so we can lay everything out for them?’
Her head still whirling with the implications, Merry found herself nodding. ‘Okay. As long as it doesn’t clash with the Orkney half-marathon.’
There was a sharp intake of breath in her ear. ‘A half-marathon? But you’re not a runner.’
‘I am now,’ Merry replied. She squared her shoulders. ‘But yes, I’ll come down and we’ll tell them everything.’
‘And you will let me read this new book at some point, will you?’ Phoebe asked. ‘Before the meeting, I mean.’
Merry laughed. ‘Yes, of course. I’ll send it to you as soon as it’s finished. Which will be around the end of the month,’ she said, before Phoebe could ask.
‘Fabulous,’ her agent said, and her voice softened. ‘Congratulations, Merry. I know it’s been a tough couple of years but maybe this is exactly what you need to get everything back on track. And if you tell anyone I said this, I’ll deny it, but well done for taking a risk – on Orkney and on this new novel. It sounds brilliant.’
Merry felt the backs of her eyes prickle with unexpected tears. Phoebe had never been anything less than supportive, but hearing her say such kind things was like a warm hug on a gloomy day. ‘Thanks. I hope you’re going to like it.’
‘I love everything you write,’ Phoebe said simply. ‘Now go and get a wee dram to celebrate, or whatever it is they drink up there in the arse end of nowhere.’
She hung up and Merry was left staring at her phone, wondering whether she’d dreamt the whole conversation. She was still there a few minutes later when Niall appeared, a look of concern on his face.
‘Merry? Are you all right? I thought you were coming up to have some lunch.’
She blinked hard and stared at him, still half in shock. ‘I was, but my agent called. She’s found out about the historical book.’
Niall’s mouth dropped in understanding. ‘Ah. Is everything okay?’
‘I think so,’ Merry said, and then the full impact of Phoebe’s call sank in. ‘In fact, I think I might have a film deal! Or at least the start of one.’
‘For the historical?’ Niall said, his face lighting up with excitement. ‘That’s incredible news – congratulations!’
It was, Merry thought, and reached out to grab Niall’s arm. ‘I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you? Give Andrew a ring – we’re going to need a bottle of the 1968 vintage tonight!’
‘Excellent plan,’ Niall replied with a grin. ‘I’ll call him right now.’
He hurried inside, leaving Merry alone with her thoughts once more and Phoebe’s words echoed in her head – well done for taking a risk. Perhaps, she mused, it was worth taking another risk. As Magnús had pointed out, it was better to try and fail than regret never having tried at all.
Maybe she hadn’t fallen out of love with love after all, Merry told herself as she went inside to find Magnús. Maybe there was hope for her heart after all.
End of Part Two
Acknowledgements
Unending thanks and gratitude to Jo Williamson of Antony Harwood Ltd, superstar agent and life-support system. A massive thank you to Bec Farrell for helping to shape Brightwater Bay with skill, patience and humour, and everyone on the Books and the City team for ensuring Merry’s story is an irresistible package – special thanks to Pip Watkins for designing up an Orkney storm and giving me such gorgeous covers.
As always, much love to Kate Harrison, Miranda Dickinson, Rowan Coleman, Julie Cohen and Cally Taylor, who are daily, weekly, monthly and yearly inspirations. Cuddles to T and E for being themselves.
And last of all, thanks to all my readers – I hope you've fallen in love with Orkney as much as I have.
More from the Author
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Dangerous Tides at Brightwater Bay
Broken Hearts at Brightwater Bay
Last Orders at the Star and Sixpence
Last Words at the Star and Sixpence
Cosy Nights at the Star and Sixpence
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Summer at the Star and Sixpence
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Christmas at the Star and Sixpence
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Brief Encounter at the Picture House by the Sea
Singing in the Rain at the Picture House by the Sea
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Snowy Nights at Castle Court
Frosty Mornings at Castle Court
Stormy Weather at Castle Court
Starry Skies at Castle Court
Last Orders at the Star and Sixpence
New Beginnings at the Star and Sixpence
Christmas Kisses at the Star and Sixpence
Cosy Nights at the Star and Sixpence
Last Words at the Star and Sixpence
Valentine’s Day at the Star and Sixpence (short story)
Don’t miss the next instalments in the BRIGHTWATER BAY series! Available now
to pre-order:
DANGEROUS TIDES AT BRIGHTWATER BAY (part three)
SUNSET OVER BRIGHTWATER BAY (part four)
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First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2020
Copyright © Tamsyn Murray, 2020
Sea Breezes at Brightwater Bay Page 8