CHAPTER 25THE FERRY CROSSING
The Aberdeen-Orkney ferry pitched and rolled across the North Sea. In the cafeteria, passengers sat motionless over full cups of tea, too queasy to drink. On deck, tourists gripped the railings while pretending to admire the view. Brian had surrendered completely. He lay sprawled across a worn seat in the passenger lounge, looking as sick as I'd ever seen him.
"There's a direct flight to Kirkwall, you know," he mumbled with his eyes shut. "Forty-five minutes, tops. But no – you insisted on the ferry because of your b****y car and your 'carbon footprint'." He mimed quotation marks weakly before grabbing his middle. "I blame you for this. And everything else wrong with my life."
"Bit much, isn't it?" I said, leafing through an Orkney heritage pamphlet. "Anyway
