Читать онлайн «Thin Air»

Acknowledgements

Thanks to everyone who has helped make this book better: my agents Sara Menguc and Moses Cardona and my editor Catherine Richards. I’m grateful to the Pan Macmillan team of Jeremy, Becky, Emma, Sam and all Andy Belshaw’s group. Thanks to my friends in Shetland, specially Ingirid Eunson and Jim Dickson for great food and company, Mary Blance for advice in all things Shetland, Steven and Charlotte for giving me the idea and everyone else who’s provided tea, beer and stories. Any mistakes are my own – I do know that it’s impossible to send an email by iPhone from Unst, but this is a story. Finally, let’s raise a glass (of champagne) to my fairy godmother Elaine.

Chapter One

The music started. A single chord played on fiddle and accordion, a breathless moment of silence when the scene was fixed in Polly’s head like a photograph, and then the Meoness community hall was jumping. Polly had spent thirteen hours on the overnight boat from Aberdeen to Lerwick and when she’d first come ashore the ground had seemed to shift under her feet, and this was another kind of illusion. The music appeared to bounce from the walls and the floor and to push people towards the centre of the room, to lift them onto their feet. Even the home-made bunting and the balloons strung from the rafters seemed to dance. The band’s rhythm set toes tapping and heads nodding. Children in party clothes clapped and elderly relatives clambered from their chairs to join in. A young mother jiggled a baby on her knee. Lowrie took the hand of his new bride, Caroline, and led her onto the dance floor to show her off to his family once more.

This was the hamefarin’. Lowrie was a Shetlander, and after years of courtship Caroline had finally persuaded him, or bullied him, to marry her. The real wedding had taken place close to Caroline’s home in Kent and her two closest friends had followed her to Unst, Shetland’s most northerly island, to complete the celebration. And they’d brought their men with them.

‘Doesn’t she look gorgeous?’ It was Eleanor, crouching beside Polly’s chair.

The two women had known Caroline since they were students; she was their voice of reason and their sister-in-arms. They’d been her bridesmaids in Kent and now they were dressed up again in the cream silk dresses they’d chosen together in London. They’d made the trek north to be part of the hamefarin’. They’d followed Caroline round the room for the bridal march and now they admired again her elegance, her poise, and her very expensive frock.

‘It’s what she’s wanted since she first laid eyes on Lowrie during Freshers’ Week,’ Eleanor went on. ‘It was obvious even then that she’d get her way. She’s a determined lady, our Caroline. ’

‘Lowrie doesn’t seem to mind too much. He hasn’t stopped beaming since they got married. ’

Eleanor laughed. ‘Isn’t this all such fun?’

Polly thought she hadn’t seen Eleanor so happy for months. ‘Great fun,’ she said. Polly seldom relaxed in social situations, but decided she was actually rather enjoying herself tonight. She smiled back at her friend and felt a moment of connection, of tenderness. Since her parents had died, these people were the only family she had. Then she decided that the drink must be making her maudlin.