Page 2 of The Midnight Secret

Jayne’s cheeks reddened, as if it was obvious to everyone that this was how she would seduce her husband tonight.

‘Never you mind that!’ Ma Peg said crossly, taking it back from Jayne and wagging a finger at the girls. ‘You’re supposed to be in the kirk!’

‘Aye. And I’ve come up to tell you Norman’s there, and he’s wearing his suit.’

‘I should hope so!’ Ma Peg said huffily, checking over the bride again. Jayne couldn’t remember a time when she’d been so fussed over. Certainly not since her mother had died. ‘Now be off with y’, Effie, and take these rascals with you too.’ Ma Peg’s gaze fell upon Flora and Mhairi’s impish faces. ‘We’ll be there in a few minutes. Make sure one of you’s by the door for taking off Jayne’s boots. I’m too old for all that bending down.’

‘I can do it—’ Jayne began, but Ma Peg stopped her.

‘Nonsense. Whoever heard of the bride taking off her own boots? Besides, I don’t want these flowers falling out.’

‘Bye, Jayne,’ Mhairi beamed as Ma Peg bustled them out. ‘We’ll sing the hymns extra loud for you!’

Jayne walked after them through to the kitchen, listening to their laughter carrying down the street as they skipped over the stone slabs, arms linked. The whole island was ready for a party, irrespective of the weather. Ma Peg had made Jayne her favourite oatcakes for breakfast – a parting gift – and the plates were still sitting on the side, waiting to be taken to the burn for washing. Jayne felt the itch of habit to do them herself; there had been little time for the women to get to their usual chores today when they’d all been so busy with preparing the dinner. The men had slaughtered a hogget thismorning and it was cooking on the spit outside, a few sheep’s hides stretched overhead between washing lines to keep the rain off. After the vows they would feast, and later they would dance a ceilidh.

And then, finally, the door of number two would close and there would be no more eyes upon them, no more planned conversations. Jayne and Norman would be alone at last. She would stand in a chemise in the firelight before the man who made her nervous and excited all at once. He had yet to kiss her – he was honourable as well as reserved – and she tried again and again to imagine his mouth upon hers. Flora, with her usual precociousness, had shown her how to practise on her own arm. As if she knew! Jayne had laughed and swatted her away, but in bed that night, lying in the darkness, she had tried it anyway.

Ma Peg bustled back in, satisfied the girls were running ahead to the kirk. Her gaze travelled over Jayne with grandmotherly affection and she made a final adjustment to some of the daisies wound in her hair.

‘He’s a lucky man, that Norman Ferguson.’

‘I’m the lucky one.’

‘Oof! He’d like y’ to think that, that’s for sure,’ Ma Peg chuckled. ‘That man’s got a high enough opinion o’ himself as it is.’ She disappeared into the bedroom and re-emerged a moment later with the chemise. ‘And we mustn’t forget this,’ she said with a knowing look, as if the finer details of the seduction had been agreed.

Jayne held out her arm to help Ma Peg balance while going down the step, and they walked together through the deserted street. All the cottage doors had been left open, of course, fires flickering with low flames. The smell of burning peat mingled with the aroma of the lamb cooking slowly on the grass.

The tide was in, the sea a heavy grey, but there was little wind for once. A trailing mist was trickling over the summits of Oiseval and Ruival, the hills that flanked either side of Village Bay like sentries. The rain was soft, and she hoped it settled like a dew upon her cheeks, diamonds on her lashes.

They stopped at number two on the way past, and Jayne hurried in with the chemise, excitedly laying it down on the unmade bed. She bit her lip, feeling her heart pound harder at the illicit visit. She had never been inside his bedroom before, and she allowed herself a moment to take in the sight: his tweed cragging breeks were thrown upon a rush-seated chair – discarded as he’d changed into his Sunday best – a blanket Molly had knitted strewn along the end of the bed, his musky smell lingering as if he’d only just left the room. Within the hour, this would be her room too...She wished time would speed up and spirit her into the future like a fairy on the wind.

It took less than two minutes to arrive at the kirk, and Jayne heard the babble of conversation within die down as they came and stood in the doorway.

Molly was waiting for her with bright eyes. In marrying Norman, Jayne knew she was gaining not only a husband but a sister as well. From today, she would have a family again. She would belong.

‘You’re an even more beautiful bride than I dreamt you’d be,’ Molly whispered as she set about untying Jayne’s boots.

Jayne gave a shy smile. She knew she was no great beauty, but all the girls’ excitement was infectious and she was beginning to believe she might, perhaps, look pretty today.

There was no introductory music to cover the short pause as Molly worked on her laces – no organ, not even a stained-glass window. As Jayne looked through into the familiar, tinywhitewashed chapel, it was completely unadorned but for the daisies in her hair.

She saw the rows of villagers awaiting her, and she could tell every single person by the backs of their heads. This was the landscape to her life; she knew everyone’s story, everyone’s secrets.

Throats were cleared, someone blew their nose...and then, silence.

Jayne saw Norman turn, his beautiful black-ringed blue eyes fastening upon her so that the butterflies in her stomach took wing. He didn’t smile at her excitedly the way the girls had just now, but of course he was neither a teenage girl nor a sentimental man.

Ma Peg squeezed her arm, and Jayne realized that somewhere along the way they had traded places and it was no longer her supporting Ma Peg, but Ma Peg supporting her.

‘You’re sure now?’ Ma Peg whispered, holding her arm tightly as they looked past all their neighbours towards the minister standing at the end of the aisle, beside her groom. Waiting.

Jayne nodded. She’d never been more sure of anything, and she boldly took her first step down the aisle, eager to get to her destiny.

Chapter One

JAYNE

Four years later – late August 1930

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