A Flirty Dozen

It was a hot summer’s day on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. The lanes were dusty underfoot, the languid breeze heavy with the scent of the North Sea, and a Viking had just offered to buy my daughter. His drooping moustache quivered as he spoke to her, his hands on his thighs and his head bent down to her level. “How old are you? Thirteen? Fourteen? That’s prime marriageable age, that is.” Kelis giggled, her honey-coloured cheeks tinged with pink. “I’m twelve. And you’re old enough to be my dad.” Actually, with his bald head and grizzled beard, not to mention the beer gut—mead gut?—he looked old enough to be my dad. Bearing in mind this was a bloke with a broadsword, I decided not to mention it. The Viking, who’d introduced himself without a trace of irony as Balder, stared at her. “So? What’s that got to do with anything? Twelve’s even better, as it happens. Fourteen, well…” He pursed his lips and sucked in a breath. “Bit long in the tooth for a first time bride. But it’s not for me, as it happens. I’ve got a wife. It’s my son I’m trying to marry off. What d’you reckon? He’s over there by the boat. Ulf!” The boat in question was a red and black longboat, with a gold dragon’s-head prow, sitting outside the priory gate as if beached there on the road by an unusually high tide. Another Viking shambled past it like a one-man zombie apocalypse. He was tall, if a bit hunched-over, had blond dreadlocks and a beard with beads in it. If it hadn’t been for the lurching and the worryingly vacant expression, he’d have been pretty good-looking. “Ur?” he grunted. “Found you a wife, Ulf. What d’you reckon?” Ulf lurched over to Kelis, put his nose up to her face and gave her an audible sniff. “Ur,” he said in a tone of approval. Kelis squealed in mock terror and cowered back against me, tickling my arm with her loose brown curls—the same mid brown as my hair, but a bubbly riot where mine is dead straight. She got my hazel eyes, too, and my nose, but the rest of her is all her mother. “Why’s he being funny?” Balder beamed proudly. “He’s a berserker, Ulf is. Great fighters, they are. Give ‘em an axe or a sword, shove ‘em into battle and you’re knee deep in hacked off limbs before you can say Ragnarok. Course, you have to remember to point ‘em at the enemy first.” Ulf’s unfocussed eyes lit up manically at the word enemy. He grabbed a wicked-looking axe from the table and waggled it threateningly in my direction. I was surprised—and interested—to see him wink as I took a step back, Kelis clinging to me like a giggly limpet. “Down, boy!” Balder grabbed Ulf’s arm. “That’s your father-in-law. Not the enemy. Friend, Ulf. Axe down.” Ulf’s shoulders slumped as he lowered his weapon. “Ur,” he muttered sullenly. “Sorry about that. Not very discriminating, your average berserker. So what do you reckon, son? Think she’ll be a good wife for you?” Ulf nodded his shaggy head with worrying enthusiasm. “Ur.” As his gaze met mine, there was a flicker of amusement that I was sure was just for me. “Looks like he likes you. All right, just a few more questions before we seal the deal. How’s your cooking?” “Um, I can make flapjacks. And we did pizza sauce in school.” “Close enough. Can you make cheese?” “Make cheese?” Kelis stared at the weirdo who didn’t seem to know cheese came out of packets. “Milk goats?” “Ew!” “And you’ll have to hand sew all your own clothes. And his. And the kids’. And you’ll need to have lots of them, to make sure one or two survive to look after you in your old age.” “Um…” Balder shook his head sadly. “Sorry, Ulf. I don’t think she’s the girl for you. Doesn’t seem ready to take on her responsibilities. Think we’ll have to keep looking.” Ulf pouted, then held up the axe. “Ur?” he asked hopefully. “No, you can’t kill them either.” With a scowl, Ulf slammed the axe back onto the table then lurched off to terrorise a Japanese family who’d just wandered into view. “You must be very proud of him,” I said, keeping my face straight. Balder beamed with paternal pride. “Chip off the old block, he is. Apart from the homicidal rages, of course. Now, any questions?” Kelis had a few questions—Kelis always had a few questions—like did girl Vikings ever get to fight? (not as a rule, apparently, although there had been one or two shield maidens) and were there any gay Vikings? (not if they knew what was good for them). I got the distinct impression your average old Norse man was pretty rigid about gender roles. Then we wandered off towards the picturesque ruins of Lindisfarne Priory, where some of Balder’s fellow re-enactors had set up their tents. If I cast a glance over my shoulder first for one last look at the man who’d so nearly married into the family, well, I’m pretty sure no one noticed. Except Kelis, of course, who teased me about it mercilessly (“You liked Ulf, didn’t you?”) until she got distracted by a monk making ink out of berries, thank God. The accompanying spiel was quite interesting, actually, but I zoned out after a while. Lack of sleep, probably, although Kelis didn’t seem affected even though it had been her nightmares that’d kept me awake last night. Kids. “I’m going to take a look around outside, all right?” I whispered in her ear. “Yeah, whatever.” She nodded, her gaze not wavering from the sack-cloth clad, vaguely druidical looking bloke with the berries. “Okay. Be good. I’ll see you back here, or just outside.” I wandered off into the ruins. There was a place in the priory wall where a jagged-edged window perfectly framed a view of sixteenth-century Lindisfarne Castle, perched a mile or so away on its volcanic mound. I stopped to snap off a photo, and decided I’d drag Kelis over that way for a closer look. After all, we’d managed a different castle every day during our week in Northumberland, and it’d be a shame to fall down on the job on our last full day’s holiday. It didn’t look too far to walk, although an ice-cream bribe might be indicated. I stood for a moment under a slender archway that curved between two sections of crumbling wall, and gazed up at it, outlined against an impossibly blue sky. Further on, there was a larger-than-life, green-tinged statue of St Cuthbert, Lindisfarne’s seventh-century bishop, missionary, and hermit. Back in those days, a total lack of any kind of social life could be seen as a good thing, it seemed. A ginger cat lay stretched out at the statue’s feet, sunning itself on the low stone plinth, and Cuthbert gazed down at his feline companion with long-faced serenity. As I watched, a tall young man in Viking gear stooped to stroke the cat, which nuzzled into his hand. It was Ulf, the berserker from earlier, now straight-backed and smoking a rollie. I stared at him for a moment, then thought, what the hell? I wandered closer. “Ur,” I said, in a tone I hoped conveyed friendly greeting. He turned and grinned, showing gleaming white, slightly crooked teeth. “It’s all right, I can speak English.” He spoke it with a light rural accent, not easy to place. “I’m on a break. I’m Ian, by the way. When I’m not running amok.” Ian held out his hand, and I shook it. His grasp was firm and warm, and lingered in an easy-going sort of way that was pleasant, but frustratingly inconclusive. “Chris. Nice to meet you. Sorry the marriage plans didn’t work out.” “Yeah, no offence to your daughter, but twelve-year-old girls really aren’t my type.” Did that mean girls weren’t his type? Or just twelve-year-olds? I really needed to work on my gaydar. Ian took another drag on his rollie and blew out a thin stream of smoke. “Her mum off shopping somewhere?” Was I reading too much into it, or was that a leading question? Unfortunately, even if it was, my answer was going to be a bit of a buzz-kill. “Actually, her mum died when she was six.” His eyes took on a pinched look. “God, sorry. That must have been rough.” I shrugged a bit awkwardly. “It was for Kelis. Her mum and I weren’t actually together. Never were.” I caught his wide-eyed look of surprise. “Well, apart from fairly briefly, thirteen years ago, obviously. I think we were both equally horrified when we saw who we’d woken up with next morning.” At nineteen, Shandi had been a free-spirited, exotic (to my sheltered eyes) beauty, with warm brown skin and swinging black braids, living in a squat with a bunch of other bizarre characters. I, on the other hand, had been skinny, awkward and conventional. Actually, come to think of it, I wasn’t sure all that much had changed. Except maybe the “skinny” part. Ian laughed. “Yeah, I’ve had mornings like that. Can’t be easy, being a single dad.” I looked down, pushed a loose stone around in the grass with my foot. “We get along all right, most of the time. Probably because she hasn’t discovered boys yet.” I glanced up again. “You got kids?” “Only nieces and nephews. So far.” He gazed past me, out towards the sea, a gust of wind blowing back his dreads and making the beads in his beard dance. “I’d like them one day. But it’s not always that easy.” I snorted. “Based on my own experience, I’d have to take issue with that. Sometimes it’s far too easy. Not that I regret having Kelis. God, no. Best mistake I ever made.” Followed nine months later by the worst mistake I ever made. But Ian didn’t need to know about my painfully steep learning curve on the road to good decision-making. “Is she enjoying it here?” “Oh, yes. She loves all these sort of events. Right now, she’s busy producing some epic masterpiece of calligraphy. Allegedly. Or possibly being bludgeoned to death with a crucifix by a monk who can’t take any more questions.” “Sounds like she’s a bright kid.” He took a last drag on his rollie, looked at it regretfully and stubbed it out carefully on the wall. “Right. Back to the berserkergang. Enjoy the rest of your day. Maybe I’ll see you around? Are you staying on the island?” He looked hopeful. I hated to dash it. “No, we’ve been staying in a cottage just over the causeway for the last week, but we’re due off home tomorrow morning. But I expect you have to go off and pillage somewhere else tomorrow anyway?” “Actually, we’re camping out in the priory grounds for the night, and we’ll be around all day tomorrow. We’re doing a small-scale re-enactment of the 793 raid, if you’re interested.” “That’s the bit where they give you an axe, wind you up and point you at the enemy, right?” I bet that was a sight to see. Probably not from the receiving end, though. “Yeah, but I try not to hack off too many limbs for real. Health and safety’s a bugger these days.” I nodded. “It’s the nanny state gone mad. I’d love to see you do a bit of hacking, but we’ve got a long way to go, and with the tides as well…” The causeway to Lindisfarne is only passable at low tide. Notices all over the island warn of dire consequences to anyone stupid enough to ignore the warnings, and a lot of the postcards gleefully display pictures of half- or, indeed, fully-submerged cars. Clearly there are plenty of stupid people about. “Shame.” Ian did actually look disappointed, which was good for the ego even if it didn’t change the facts. “Right. Back to the grind.” “See you,” I said, reflecting that Viking-style tunics and long chainmail vests were a total killjoy if you wanted to check out a bloke’s rear view as he walked away. Nice shoulders, though. Probably from swinging that axe around in battle. Ah, well. Maybe nothing had come of it, but a bit of flirting was always good for the soul. When I got back to the scribe’s tent Kelis was just finishing off her masterpiece: her name and address in wobbly cursive script. “It’s really hard, writing with a feather,” she said, thrusting the results of her labours in my face. “Can you look after this?” I made appropriate sounds of admiration before folding it carefully and putting it in my camera case. Then I took Kelis off to meet St Cuthbert and his pet cat, the latter of which impressed her far more than any of the old stones around us. “Can we go to the beach, now?” she asked when the cat finally tired of all the attention and wandered off. I consulted my map. “There’s a beach up that way, past the castle. It doesn’t look far.” Kelis squinted in the direction of my pointing finger. She’d heard me say that sort of thing before. “It’s miles.” “Buy you an ice-cream on the way?” “Yay! Come on, Dad.” She tugged on my arm. Our way out of the priory took us, of course, past the longboat and our two friendly Vikings. Ian was chatting with Balder, both of them leaning against the wall. “Run out of tourists to terrify?” I asked. Ian looked up and smiled. “Yeah, what with the tides, everyone coming over already got here a while ago. Off back to the mainland now, are you?” I tried to tell myself I was imagining the note of regret in his voice. “No, we’re—” Kelis cut me off in her excitement. “We’re going to get ice creams and go to the beach!” “Lucky you. They didn’t have ice cream in Viking times, you know.” Ian made an exaggeratedly sad face at her. I could practically see the cogs whirling round behind those big, brown eyes of Kelis’s. “Da-ad?” “Ye-es?” I gave her my best stern look. It didn’t work. Which, based on past experience, shouldn’t have surprised me. “Can Ulf come, too? It’ll be more fun with more of us. Pleeease.” “Sweetheart, I’m sure Ian—Ulf—has got better things to do than play on the beach.” Ian quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Quite fancy a trip to the beach. Specially if there’s ice cream.” He turned to Balder. “You’ll be all right here without me, won’t you?” Balder nodded his bald head, now faintly reddened from the sun. “Course I will. You go off and enjoy yourself.” He smiled as we turned to go, then called after us, “No pillaging, mind, and no sacking, neither!” We bought our ice creams, which were of the traditional British seaside variety—swirls of pale creamy stuff with a chocolate flake jammed in tight. Kelis insisted on hers being smothered with chocolate sauce. Ian went for strawberry. “Ulf, why didn’t you get chocolate sauce?” Kelis asked, before carefully licking around the melty bits at the top of the cone. He grinned. “I like the red stuff better. Looks more like blood. And you can call me Ian, you know. Now I’m off duty.” “Ian,” Kelis said thoughtfully. “If I was a Viking, what would my name be?” He gazed at her for a moment, lips pursed. Kelis seemed to have been turned into a chunk of impatient stone, a dab of ice cream on her nose and chocolate sauce around her mouth. “Astrid,” he said firmly. “It means beautiful.” She accepted it as her due. “What does Ulf mean?” “Wolf,” Ian said mildly—then turned to growl at her. Kelis squealed and nearly dropped her ice cream. “Oi, careful with that,” I said with a smile. “I’m not paying for another if you lose that one.” She ignored me. “What about Dad? What would his name be?” Ian took a thoughtful lick of his ice cream. I tried not to stare at his tongue. “Now, that’s tougher. Hmm. Einarr?” “What’s it mean?” “Lone warrior.” “Dad’s not alone. He’s got me.” Kelis’s tone was scornful. “All right, what about Triggr? It means trustworthy.” I frowned. “I don’t care what it means. I’m not going through life being called Trigger.” “Touchy, ain’t he?” Ian rolled his eyes at Kelis, and she giggled. The sun on our backs was baking hot despite the fresh sea breeze, and I was glad I’d insisted Kelis slather herself with sunblock. The path skirted around the castle mound. When we got to the nearest point, where anyone wanting to visit the castle would have to turn off the path, we stood there for a moment, gazing up the hill at it. The road up to the castle gates looked extremely steep, and the castle, frankly, not all that impressive after you’d seen Bamburgh—Kelis had dubbed that one “Castle Awesome”. “Dad,” Kelis began thoughtfully. “The castle still counts as our one-a-day if we don’t actually go in, doesn’t it?” “Absolutely,” I said, relieved. Ian grinned. “Just as well. If I turned up there dressed like this, they’d think I’d come to invade the place.” “What, and got held up several hundred years en route?” “Took the long way around, didn’t I?” “Where are you from, by the way?” I asked, as Kelis skipped on ahead. “If you don’t mind me asking.” “I’m based in Bath right now, but I like to move around a bit. Always have.” That explained the hard-to-pin-down accent. “Nice part of the country.” I paused. “You live alone?” “Nah, I’ve got a flatmate. But that’s all he is. Young, free and single, that’s what I am.” Ian grinned. “Whereas I’m old, encumbered and, yes, still single.” “You don’t look that old to me. Early thirties?” “Thirty-two,” I confirmed. “Feels old enough, sometimes. Especially when I’m explaining to blokes I can’t take them home because my daughter’s there.” Ian didn’t react to my outing myself, confirming my suspicions he already had a pretty good reading of me. “If they’re not worth explaining to your daughter, they’re probably not worth taking home in the first place.” “Yeah, but it’s not always easy to tell the difference on first meeting.” He raised a shaggy, pierced eyebrow. “How about me? Would I be worth it?” I stared at the path at my feet, shaking my head. It was so peaceful here, the only sounds our footsteps and the calls of seagulls. “I honestly can’t imagine the question ever coming up, under normal circumstances.” “Okaaaay. Nice to know where I stand.” I looked up sharply. “What? No—that’s not what I meant. I just…you’re the kind of bloke who, well, doesn’t look twice at a bloke like me.” “A bloke like you? And what sort of bloke is that?” “You know.” I gestured down at myself. “Boring.” “Do I look like I’m falling asleep?” “No, but it’s only been half an hour. Give it time.” He laughed. “You’re the one who’s in a hurry to leave, not me. Where’s home for you, anyway?” “Cambridge. Well, just on the edge of it, really. I’m a software designer. I work from home these days. Means I can be there when Kelis gets in from school.” I paused. “What do you do, when you’re not hacking off limbs?” “Hack off more limbs, as it happens.” He laughed at my expression, then launched himself over a stile with easy grace. “I’m a tree surgeon.” Kelis’s voice cut through our conversation. “Da-ad! Ian! Come on, we’re nearly there!” After meandering through a field of lazy, cud-chewing sheep, we reached the beach. It was entirely made of stones and driftwood, very different from the broad expanse of golden sand over at Alnmouth. There, you could almost imagine yourself somewhere southern and exotic—until you were reckless enough to dip an unprotected toe into the icy North Sea. Here, there wasn’t the remotest temptation to go for a swim, but there were stones to be skimmed, and shells to hunt for. We crunched and slipped our way along the pebble beach, picking things up and either pocketing them or lobbing them into the water, as appropriate. I wondered, if there had been anyone else but us on this lonely stretch of coastline, would they have thought us a family? Two dads, raising a presumably adopted daughter? Would they think we were sweet? Or would they look away, disgusted? Then I reflected anyone observing us would probably be too hung up on the fact that one of us was dressed as a Viking to even think about alternative family dynamics. “It’s great, her still wanting to do this sort of thing,” Ian said, watching the stone he’d just skimmed as it skipped across the water, bouncing roughly twice as many times as my best effort before sinking with a plop. “I know. A lot of girls her age are teenagers already. We’ve seen a few of them while we’ve been on holiday—slathered in eyeliner, whining for their X-boxes and complaining how boring everything is. I’m glad my Kelis is still a little girl at heart.” “Dad! Ian! Come see!” We looked up at her shout, to see she’d got a fair way ahead of us down the beach. She was standing next to something that’d been washed up by the sea—a larger-than usual bit of driftwood? It was a rusty brown in colour. “Come on!” We hurried up—and then the stench hit me. It was like a fishmonger’s dustbin. In a heat wave. After the bin men had been on strike for a month. “God, what is that?” “It’s a dead seal! Look, you can see its bones through its face! That is just so gross.” Brown eyes wide, she gazed at it with horrified glee. “Ah, little girls. Got to love ‘em,” Ian said with a grin. I groaned. “Thanks, sweetheart. My holiday is now complete. This trip’s been sadly lacking in rotting corpses up until now.” Kelis ignored my sarcasm with the ease of long practice. “Aren’t you going to take a picture?” “Trust me, I’m not going to forget this sight.” “Da-ad! Come on. I want Ian in it, too.” Ian didn’t hesitate, just scrambled over the stones to my daughter and her new best friend. He didn’t seem to mind having to share the limelight with a putrid corpse. I ended up snapping off a whole string of shots of the three of them. It felt strange, knowing I’d be able to see Ian’s face in our holiday photos for years to come. Years after I’d last seen him in person, no doubt. Even if we got something going now, it wouldn’t last, would it? He liked to move around. He’d told me that himself. And Kelis needed stability. “Dad, Dad, I want the camera.” I handed it over with a sigh. At least I was able to back off to a less nauseating distance while Kelis took picture after picture of the fetid thing from every conceivable angle. “Why’s it that colour?” she demanded. “I thought seals were grey. All the seals we saw on the Far Islands were grey.” “Farne Islands. And, er, I think it’s because of bacteria. Or something.” I looked at Ian, but he shrugged in a search me kind of way. “Are they eating it? That’s so gross.” She crouched down to peer at it even more closely. “That’s natural recycling, that is,” Ian said, bending down next to her. Didn’t the smell bother him? Or was it just me, letting excessive squeamishness keep me from a bonding experience with my daughter? I took a step towards them, and gagged as the odour hit me afresh. No, I decided. Ian clearly had no sense of smell. That thing was foul. Eventually I managed to persuade her away from the festering carcase, and she slip-slid back over the pebbles to me with Ian by her side, the camera swinging wildly on its strap from her neck and threatening to brain one of them any minute. She yanked it over her head and handed it back to me. “You can carry it now.” “Thanks. Come on, it’s time we were heading back. Tides, remember?” “Do you think the seal died of old age? Or did something kill it?” Kelis bombarded me with questions as we started on our way back to the village. “I hope it died of old age. Do you think it had any babies?” “Maybe all its children were grown up,” I suggested carefully, wary of what might be going on in that curly little head of hers. “Come on, we need to hurry up a bit to make sure we catch the tide.” “What time is it?” Ian asked. Not surprisingly, he wasn’t wearing a watch with his Viking outfit. “You know you’ll be all right for a good half hour after the tide tables say. They just like to play it safe.” “Yes, well, they’re not the only ones,” I muttered. He grinned. “Ah, what’s the worst that could happen? I won’t be complaining if you get stuck on the island for a bit longer.” He made it sound so easy. As if doing things just because you wanted to didn’t have consequences. We were halfway back along the path to the priory when Kelis stopped dead, clutching at her neck. “Oh no!” I thought she’d been stung by a wasp or something. “What is it?” Her face twisted in anguish. “Mum’s necklace. I was wearing it before and now it’s gone. We’ve got to go back.” She turned on her heel and ran back along the path. I cursed under my breath. “Kelis! Wait. We haven’t got time.” She turned to shout back at me. “It’s Mum’s necklace.” “I know, but if you go back we’re going to miss the tide.” “I don’t care!” She kept on running. Ian and I exchanged looks, then ran after her. “At least slow down a bit,” I called out. “If you dropped it on the path, you won’t see it if you run.” She spun and looked at me uncertainly, hopping from foot to trainer-clad foot. “You’re not going to try and make me leave it?” I sighed. “No, it’s okay. But I’d better not hear one word from you moaning about being tired tomorrow. If we miss the tide now we’ll have to wait until…” I frowned as I tried to remember the tide tables. “Be getting on for midnight, I reckon,” Ian said. “Great. We haven’t even packed yet.” We’d either have to get up at the arse crack of dawn tomorrow or be late leaving the cottage, which wouldn’t win us any friends with the staff who had to get it ready for the next family. And it was a long, long drive back down to Cambridge, which wouldn’t be any easier for being sleep-deprived. “Thought you’d tell her to leave it behind,” Ian said in a low voice as he fell into step beside me.” “No…Well, it’s her mum’s necklace. God knows, she’s got little enough to remember her by.” Shandi had died owning barely enough to fill a couple of suitcases of shabby tat. “But look, you don’t have to come back with us.” He shrugged. “Six eyes are better than four, right?” “Yes, but…” I swallowed the polite words that would tell him not to bother. Keep him at a distance. “Thanks.” “No problem.” He put a hand on my shoulder for a moment, and I caught my breath. “So tell me what we’re looking for.” “It’s a silver locket—just a cheap thing, really, and it’s got a few dents in it. Shandi—that’s Kelis’s mum—always was careless with her stuff, and it’s had a few more knocks since Kelis got it, too.” That wasn’t the only thing Shandi had been careless about, of course, and I wasn’t just talking about contraception. But Kelis had loved her. Idolised her. Ian would probably have liked her, too. “What’ll you do if we don’t find it?” he asked. “God knows.” Consoling a distraught Kelis was not a prospect I was looking forward to in the slightest. “Hey, at least she’ll know we did our best.” Again, Ian put his hand on my shoulder. I tried not to lean into the comforting touch, and failed. The walk back along the path was a frustrating one, spent scanning the ground and going over the age-old questions of Where do you think you left it? and Where were you the last time you saw it? To which, of course, Kelis just answered an increasingly agitated “I don’t know.” “Okay, listen,” I said finally, as we drew level with the castle again. “We should probably go straight for the beach. Tide’s coming in, remember? We can search the rest of the path on the way back.” At least that got us moving faster. The sheep stared at us, uncomprehending, as we hurried back through their field. The tide was visibly higher when we got close enough to see the sea, but we hadn’t been right down at the waterline when we’d been here before. At least, not for most of the time. I started where the path came out on the beach, and walked slowly, scrutinising the pebbles at my feet until my vision started to dance. Kelis was going to be devastated at losing the locket. I should have made her leave it at home, or checked the clasp was sound, or… “I got an idea,” Ian said suddenly. “Kelis, you spent most time round the dead seal, didn’t you?” She nodded. My heart ached as I saw her face was already streaked with silent tears, and I scrambled over to hug her. She clung to me the way she had as a six-year-old, missing her mum. “And you had that camera round your neck for a bit,” Ian carried on. “The strap could have caught on the clasp, or something, couldn’t it?” He was right. God, yes, why hadn’t I thought of that? “Come on, then.” Taking one last lungful of untainted air, I headed for the dead seal. Karma, I decided as I tried not to gag, was going to owe me big time after this. Kelis crunched nervously at my side, her fingers digging into my arm, as we looked for the locket together. Ian was a few feet away, his dreads hanging over his face as he scoured the ground. We seemed to search for hours. I was going to dream of pebbles, I decided. An avalanche of potato-sized boulders would cascade down and bury me in my sleep. Probably while a blond, dreadlocked berserker taunted me with Kelis’s necklace on the tip of his battle axe, his plunder—and himself—forever tantalisingly out of reach… There. A glint of silver, among the grey and white pebbles. The locket. Heady relief flooded through me as I bent to pick it up. “I’ve found it!” Kelis grabbed it from my hands and cuddled it to her chest before giving me a big hug, followed by an even bigger sniff. Ian’s smile was broad, his eyes crinkled at the edges in genuine happiness for her. “Hey, well done.” I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “It was your idea to look here. Come on, let’s get back to civilisation.” “Do you think the seal was looking after it for me?” Kelis asked as we turned to retrace our steps once again. Every now and then she’d come out with stuff like that—I mean, I knew she knew what “dead” meant. “Well, the smell probably kept away anyone who might have picked it up,” I conceded, rotating my shoulders, stiff from hunching over. The necklace safe and sound, Kelis was free to get excited about the whole stranded-on-an-island thing, coupled with the prospect of staying up past her bedtime even by holiday standards. She fairly skipped along the path back to the village, babbling questions all the way. “Is it going to get all spooky here like in The Woman in Black?” I’d had a few choice words to say to the parents of one of Kelis’s classmates who’d allowed her to watch that film, with all the mothers and children dying in it. “No. People live on this island, remember?” “Dad, what happens if people don’t see the warnings, and they try and drive on the road, but the tide comes in while they’re on it? Do they sink in the sand and never get found again? Do lots of people die?” I was going to kill Chelsea’s mum. “Nobody dies. They just get to feel very silly when the coastguard rescues them.” I hoped. “So there aren’t any buried cars out there? Or people?” “No,” I said firmly. She was silent a moment, kicking pebbles along the path. “Dad?” “Yes, treacle?” “If you died when the tide came in, would you be a ghost on the island or on the mainland? Or would you just have to stay in the middle?” Ye gods. I was still trying to work out what to say when Ian jumped in. “Which do you think would be the best place to haunt?” “We-ell…On the mainland might be more fun, because there’s more to do. But I like it here, too, they’ve got beaches and seals and Vikings and stuff. Or you could be a good ghost, guiding people back to land if they got lost at sea. Like Grace Darling.” “Grace Darling wasn’t a ghost,” I reminded her. “We went to her lighthouse,” Kelis told Ian. “On the Far-un Islands. We saw her bedroom and everything. It had round walls.” He c****d his head, smiling. “Oh, yeah? Think you’d like to live in a lighthouse?” Kelis’s eyes went wide. “Ye-es!” “And look out for shipwrecks in storms?” Ian seemed as excited by the prospect as she was. She nodded. “Is Grace Darling a ghost now?” I’d hoped we were off that topic. “Sweetheart, not everyone turns into a ghost when they die. Just think how crowded the world would be with them by now if they did. I expect she’s in heaven.” “With Mum?” I hated it when she asked questions like that. “Yes. Look, we’re almost back now.” I checked my watch. “We’re going to have quite a bit of time to kill.” “Have we missed the tide?” Ian laughed. “Just a bit.” Kelis clung to my arm and looked up at me with her big, brown eyes. “Are you cross with me?” I gave her a swift cuddle, letting go of her before she could squirm out of my grasp with a cry of Da-ad. “No, of course not. And I’m glad we found your necklace.” The village seemed mostly deserted when we finally got back there, and the shops were shut. Either the staff had gone back to the mainland or, more likely, assumed all their customers had. They’d probably popped back home to put their feet up with a cuppa. I could see Kelis getting very, very bored once her energy flagged and she realised just how little there was to do on the island. We hadn’t brought her DS or any of her puzzle books, and we could hardly knock on some islander’s door and ask to watch their telly for a bit. “Want to come back to the priory?” Ian asked. “You could meet some of the others.” Kelis shrugged, her Bamburgh Beast t-shirt rising and falling with her bony shoulders. “All right.” The English Heritage lady waved us on through the gate, either recognising us from earlier or taking our costumed escort as a sort of human ticket. Inside, the visitors were easily outnumbered by the Vikings. The re-enactors had mostly left their individual tents and were clustered around an open fire at one end of the priory grounds. There was a large pot suspended over the flames, beside which stood a grey-haired woman in an apron-style dress almost as broad as it was long, stirring the contents with what I assumed was the Viking equivalent of a ladle. There were a couple of kids running around, both of them a fair bit younger than Kelis. The girl was wearing a soft blue apron dress that came down to just above her ankles, with an under-dress that looked like linen, and a matching cap with loose cords to tie it under her chin. They’d come undone, and trailed behind her as she ran. The boy had on a baggy, belted knee-length tunic and rough trousers, just like Balder and Ian, and was waving a wooden sword. There was a predictable cry of “Da-ad! Can I have a Viking dress? And a sword?” “I don’t know where you get them from,” I hedged. “Can you ask? Ple-ease.” I drew in a breath to give the beleaguered parent’s old standby, “Maybe,” but was interrupted by a gruff voice from behind. “Well, if it isn’t my favourite daughter-in-law. You had a good time today?” Balder stood there, holding a mug of something. Disappointingly, when I looked closer, it appeared to be tea, rather than ale, mead, or whatever used to be the Viking beverage of choice. “Er, yes, thanks.” “I thought you’d have gone back to the mainland by now, along with everyone else.” “So did we.” I shrugged. “Looks like we’re going to be staying a bit longer now. We were admiring the kids’ costumes. Are they homemade?” “All hand sewn by my lovely wife, Aud. Aud!” At his stentorian yell, the lady with the ladle looked up and gave us a wave. “Come and meet her,” Balder insisted, and shepherded me through the Viking horde with a hand in the small of my back. I glanced back to see Kelis—and Ian as well, to my surprise—had run off to join the children. They’d got hold of a home-made looking ball from somewhere, and were using the sword as a cricket bat. I hoped it’d survive the game. As we neared the fire, I could smell the rich meaty aroma coming from the pot. Balder sniffed appreciatively. “Ah, that’s proper food, that is. Aud? This is…hang on, you never did mention your name, did you?” “Chris.” I stuck out a hand, then felt a bit of an i***t. “Um, do Vikings shake hands?” “These ones do, dear.” Aud smiled, and wiped her hand on her dress before shaking mine. She had a firm, warm grip, her palms a little rough. “Are you staying on the island?” “They missed the tide,” Balder answered for me. “Going to have to wait for the next one.” “Well, there’s worse spots to be stranded. Just you wait until sunset—the skies are beautiful around here. And it’s Sharon, really,” she added in a lower voice as Balder went to speak to another Viking, waving a quick apology in my direction. “But Kevin does like to keep in character.” “Kev—? Oh. You mean Balder.” I hesitated. “So, er, is Ian—Ulf—actually your son?” She gave me a long, considering look, a smile quivering on her lips. “Oh, it’s like that, is it? No, Ian’s not ours. He’s a lovely lad though, isn’t he? Is that your daughter, the little dark-skinned girl playing with my grandchildren?” she carried on, before I could work out if I ought to be embarrassed or not. I turned to see Kelis bending down to whisper in a giggly Viking girl’s ear, and nodded. “Yes, she’s mine. Kelis. She’s twelve.” “She seems a friendly one. Why don’t you eat with us tonight? She eats meat, doesn’t she?” “Total carnivore,” I confirmed. “But are you sure you’ll have enough? I mean, there’s a lot of people here.” “Oh, bless you! I’m not going to feed all this lot. Most of them will be off down to the Anchor for fish and chips later. But like I said, Kevin prefers to keep in character. We’ll have plenty to spare.” She nudged me with a well-rounded elbow. “And Ian’s going to be eating with us.” She had me with that. And she knew it. * * * * A couple of hours later, the meal—a plain, hearty stew of meat and vegetables that, wonder of wonders, Kelis hadn’t turned her nose up at—was long over, and we were relaxing around the fire as darkness fell, mugs in our hands. Tea for me, and mead for the lucky ones who didn’t have to drive back over to the mainland later. Ian and I had been sitting side by side the whole time, our shoulders brushing as we ate and drank. I felt ridiculously happy. Balder and some of the others had been entertaining us with tales of events they’d been to in the past. I got the feeling they’d all heard these stories plenty of times before, but were content to hear them again. The oral tradition, still alive and well in this little enclave of old Norse enthusiasts. As the laughter died down after the end of his latest saga, Balder looked over to Ian, who apart from the odd murmured comment to me had been pretty quiet until now. “Hey, Ulf! Tell ‘em about the time you licked a monk!” Ian buried his head in his hands, then looked up again with a pained smile. “It was last year. We had a lot of new people in the group, all right? Anyway, I was all in character, doing the berserker thing, hamming it up a bit for the crowds—Balder here was pretending to hold me back, all that sort of stuff—and this man dressed up as a monk walked past. So I thought I’d have a bit of fun, and I went for him and licked him all up the side of his face.” I grinned. “As you do.” “Course, then Balder tells me all of our monks were over by the tents. This one was a real monk. One of the ones from the monastery here. Brother Dominic, his name was. He was all right about it, though. After he got over the shock.” “Did he taste particularly holy?” I asked. “More like garlic, I think.” We shared a glance that seemed a bit more intimate than his words strictly called for, and suddenly the fire seemed a lot warmer. We were interrupted at that point by Kelis and Chloe, who’d kept going like little dynamos. Chloe’s brother, Jack, had long since fallen asleep on his grandmother’s lap and been carted off to bed in a tent. Chloe ran up to Balder and tugged on his arm. “Grampy, can Kelis read my story?” “Course she can. If she wants to. Do you want to, young lady?” Kelis nodded. “Is that all right, Dad? Chloe’s got this special book for when she’s a Viking. It’s got stories about Thor and Loki in it. And wolves and giants and a really big snake.” My palms itched a bit at the thought of her reading a book I hadn’t vetted, but I supposed if it was a version of the myths deemed suitable for six-year-old Chloe, Kelis would probably come through the experience unscathed. After all, she was twelve. Old enough to get married and have her own kids if we lived in Viking times, which, thank the deity or deities of your choosing, we didn’t. “All right.” Her brown hand was firmly grasped by a doll-like white one, and they scampered off together. “I think Kelis is going to be pestering me for a little sister after this,” I said ruefully. Ian smiled. “She could do worse than Chloe. They’re both great kids, her and Jack.” “You see a lot of them?” He nodded. “Their mum and dad aren’t into the re-enactment, but the kids love coming away with Kevin and Sharon and dressing up.” A while later, Sharon beckoned me over. “Come and look.” She led me to the large tent they were sharing with their grandchildren, put her finger to her lips and pulled back the tent flap. Kelis was lying in a nest of woollen blankets, snuggled up next to Chloe. They were both fast asleep. Jack was snoring softly on the other side of the tent. “I guess last night’s finally caught up with her,” I said softly. “Had a bad one, did she?” Sharon let the tent flap fall. I nodded as we turned back. “She gets bad dreams sometimes.” “Oh, dear. I’m afraid she might have some new material from that book of Chloe’s. It’s got Frost Giants and the Midgard Serpent and all sorts in it.” “No, she’ll be fine with that. Kelis never dreams about monsters.” Sharon didn’t ask for any further details, just patted my arm. As we returned to the fire, Ian rose. “Thought I’d go and stretch my legs a bit before I turn in. Want to join me?” I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry. Sharon gave me a glance and a smile, but thankfully all she said was, “Have a nice walk, then. I’ll keep an eye out in case your little girl wakes up.” “Must be hard, having to get a babysitter every time you want a night out,” Ian said as we strolled across the grass to the priory gate. “Ah, but I’ve come up with the perfect solution. Just don’t go out. Never let it be said that having no life doesn’t have its upside.” Ian laughed. “I don’t believe that for a moment. Bloke like you?” “Geek like me, you mean.” “Don’t sell yourself short.” He paused. “I wouldn’t call you a geek.” “No? What would you call me? Or am I better off not knowing?” We reached the priory gate and walked through, then took a sharp turn to go across the field towards the nearest beach—one I’d unaccountably failed to mention to Kelis the previous day. It was pitch dark by this point, save for the full moon overhead which gave just enough cool light to see our way by. “Well, for starters, you’re a great dad.” It left a sour taste in my mouth. “I’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.” “How’s that? Didn’t you have joint custody of Kelis, before her mum died?” “No. Actually…” I took a deep breath. “I didn’t even meet Kelis until after Shandi died.” “Seriously? How come—didn’t you know about her?” I hoped he wasn’t going to hate me after what I said next. “I knew about her soon after she was born. Shandi wrote to me, and she said she was going to have to put my name down for the Child Support forms, but she didn’t want me involved with her baby. That’s how she put it—her baby. And…” I stared at the ground. “I was still in university. No money. Not the first clue about kids, and I was just starting to realise I wasn’t as straight as I’d thought I was. And not coping very well. It…she made it so easy for me to just say, okay, we’ll do it your way. I told myself it’d be better for Kelis, even. Not to have to cope with awkward visits from a clueless dad she didn’t know, and who didn’t even really know her mum. And it meant I didn’t have to tell my parents about her, which seemed really important at the time.” God, I’d been so immature. “You shouldn’t beat yourself up about it. Plenty of blokes would have done the same. You were barely out of school. And she didn’t want you involved.” He paused. “How’d it work out? Was she a good mum to Kelis?” “Kelis loved her. She was the sort of mum…well, you know how little girls want to grow up to be fairy princesses? She was a bit like that. Always dressed in big, floaty skirts, and wearing rings on her toes. She jangled when she danced, Kelis said, because of all her bracelets.” I stared up at the stars. “She was the sort of mum who doesn’t worry about it being a school day if the sun’s shining. Or practical stuff, like whether there’s any food in the house, or anyone to babysit.” My heart pounded uncomfortably. This was the part I never told anyone. Well, anyone who wasn’t involved with Kelis’s education or welfare. “When she died Kelis was underweight, neglected…She had nightmares every night when she came to me, wet the bed, the works. Shandi used to leave her on her own whenever she wanted to go out and have fun, and half the time she was with her she was off her head on drugs—that was what killed her in the end. She didn’t give Kelis proper meals, and God, the people she hung around with…Anything could have happened to Kelis, and Shandi wouldn’t even have known about it.” “Hey.” Ian wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close. We’d crested a small hill now, and were heading down towards the small beach. Out on the water, fishing boats were just visible, bobbing at their moorings. “Just means you must be an even better dad than I thought. You’ve done a great job with her. She’s a bright, happy kid now.” “She still has her moments—bad dreams, incidents at school.” I leaned into him, drawing strength from his solid presence. “She was with her mum’s body for two days before the neighbours got the police to break in. They found Kelis cuddled up next to the body, trying to eat uncooked pasta because it was the only food in the house. I think…I think Shandi had told her not to ask anyone for help, ever. Because of the drugs.” “God, I’m sorry.” I leaned away from him and scrubbed my hands over my face. “Me, too. Sorry. This really wasn’t what you signed up for, was it? All this heavy stuff.” I dredged up a smile. Summer flings were supposed to be kept light, weren’t they? Just a bit of fun, with someone you’d never see again. Why did that thought feel all wrong for me and Ian? Ian was smiling, his teeth white in the moonlight and his dreads casting eerie shadows on his face. “Maybe I like to hear all the heavy stuff. Tells me where you’re coming from,” he said, and kissed me. He tasted of tobacco and outdoor living, and his soft beard stroked my face. The beads in it tickled as they danced on my neck. I slipped my arms around his waist, where his woollen tunic bagged out over his thick leather belt, and pulled him closer, pressing our bodies together. I was pretty sure he could tell how into him I was. Even through all the layers of clothes, I could tell he was pretty interested, too. After a breathless few minutes, we drew apart about a millimetre or so. My heart was pounding and my head felt light. “Is that a broadsword in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?” Ian laughed. He sounded giddy as well. “If you’re expecting a broadsword, it’s only fair to warn you, you might be a bit disappointed.” “That’s okay. I’ve always been more of a dagger man myself.” I couldn’t stop myself from pressing my groin against his. God, he felt good. We were pretty even on height—okay, maybe he was just an inch taller—and I liked that. I liked it a lot. I kissed him again, and his hand dropped down to squeeze my arse. Trying to return the favour, I felt at a distinct disadvantage. Under the tunic, Ian wore a linen undershirt that hung over his trousers almost to the knees. “God, how do you even get into all these clothes?” “Want me to show you how I get out of them?” “Here?” It was crazy. We were out in the open. Anyone could come along and see…and see what? Vague shapes in the darkness, if that. “Well, we could go back to my tent if you’d rather. But I guarantee you if we do that, every single person in camp is going to know exactly what we’re up to.” “Here is good,” I managed hoarsely. Ian stepped back and fumbled with his belt. A moment later I heard it hit the stones at our feet, and then he pulled his tunic and undershirt off in one fluid motion. He laid them down on the ground and grabbed hold of me again. “Your turn now.” The skin of his chest was warm under my hands, with a soft down of hair. His flesh was firm, well-muscled, with the scent of honest sweat. I was still exploring when he grasped my wrists. “What?” “Fair’s fair. Time you got some of that kit off.” Thank God for darkness, I thought as I stripped off my shirt and let it fall on top of his. I still felt far too visible in the moonlight. Maybe I should start actually using that expensive gym membership a bit more often. Then Ian pulled me to him, and all I could think of was the way my skin seemed to crackle where it touched his. This time when we kissed it was hungrier, more intimate. His tongue plundered my mouth as his hands laid claim to my flesh. God, I needed him. Needed more. I shoved my hands down the back of his baggy, drawstring trousers, grabbing handfuls of firm muscle as I ground our erections together. “God…” Ian broke the kiss to pant against my neck, his hot breath turning me on even more. “You’re driving me f*****g crazy.” I could hardly believe he wanted me this much. As much as I wanted him. Driving him crazy? I was delirious, drunk on his need for me. “Don’t worry,” I gasped. “It’s mutual.” I rubbed up against him one last time, then backed off just far enough to get at the front of his trousers. I fumbled in vain with the knot of the drawstring while Ian managed to get my jeans undone and my c**k freed in short order. His cool, rough-skinned hand wrapped around my overheated flesh and I groaned in relief. “You need to—f**k!” Ian had dropped to his knees and plunged his mouth over my erection. He swallowed me down further than I’d have thought possible, then drew back to suck on the tip, his lips wringing pleasure from me in crescendoing waves. When he tongued the sensitive spot just under the head I almost came there and then. I reached out blindly for him, and my fingers tangled in his dreads. It took all I had not to tug at them, not to shove myself further into his mouth. He pulled off me for a moment, and I let out a small sound that might, just possibly, have been described as a whimper. Ian smiled. “Hey, I’ll get back to it. Just wanted to say, you can be a bit rough, if you like. I don’t mind. Sort of like it, actually.” I stared at him. “God, are you real?” It came out breathy and broken. I didn’t care. “Could pinch you, if you like. Or, you know, I could go back to what I was doing…” “That. Definitely,” I babbled, daring to push his head gently back in the direction of my c**k. He didn’t resist, just opened his lips wide and swallowed me down. I groaned, then started to thrust, taking his mouth. Ian responded by rolling my balls in one hand and fingering my perineum. It was so f*****g good. It took a moment to realise he had his c**k out of his trousers and was jerking himself vigorously. I tried hard to hold onto the shreds of my control, but in the end I lost it completely, bucking into his mouth, holding his hair with one hand while I tried to muffle my cries with the other. Pressure was building like an electrical storm at the base of my spine, my balls so tight they were about to burst. “Going to…” I tried to pull away from Ian, but he was having none of it and I came in his mouth, lightning pleasure shooting through my body and out through my c**k. As I stood there fizzing with the aftershocks, Ian grunted and climaxed, spurting out onto the pebbles at our feet. “Well done on missing the shirts,” I said shakily, still struggling to draw breath. “I aim to please.” “Trust me, you did. Please, I mean.” I helped him up to his feet and, finding him in my arms, kissed him. I could taste myself on his lips, the bitter salt flavour mingled with his own natural taste, a heady melange that made me hunger for more. Our kisses were deeper now, but slower, all urgency gone and only a sense of connection remaining. Even our bodies seemed to fit together more closely, more naturally. I didn’t want to let him go. We couldn’t stay there on the beach forever, though. Much as I’d have liked to. In the end I mustered the willpower to pull away from him and bent down to retrieve our shirts. “Better get back,” I said, handing him his clothes before shrugging on my shirt. “S’pose so.” Ian’s voice held a hint of a sigh as he pulled on his tunic. We walked slowly back along the beach and over the field. Back to the priory, back to the world. As we reached the priory gate, Ian paused with a hand on my arm. “You know, there’s plenty of room in my tent for one more.” I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But—”I’m sorry. I’ve got to go. The tide will be down now, so I need to get Kelis and take her back to the cottage.” Something inside my chest was twisted up tight, and my shoulders slumped. But I had to think of Kelis. Ian looked away for a moment. Then he nodded. “It’s okay. I get it. She’s your daughter. She ought to be the most important person in your life.” He took a breath. “Have you got a phone?” “Uh, yes?” “Let me give you my number.” I handed my phone over and watched him tap in his digits with a curious fluttering in my stomach. It’d be crazy to call him, I knew that. Long distance relationships never worked—and anyway, wasn’t he everything I’d sworn to stay away from, with his hippy looks and nomadic lifestyle? “Call me,” he said, and I nodded, not sure if I lied. I shook Kelis awake gently. She was still half asleep as she tucked the blankets back around Chloe, and stumbled out of the tent with me. We said quiet goodbyes to Balder and Sharon, and took the short walk back to the outskirts of the village, where our car stood in splendid isolation in the middle of the visitors’ car park. As we drove back along the causeway, the moon was still bright. The tall poles marking the pilgrim’s way, the footpath across to the island that ran more-or-less parallel to the road for much of its route, stood proud and lonely. God, was I doing the right thing? I couldn’t stop thinking about Ian. I could have been with him right now, lying down to sleep in his tent. Hard ground beneath us, and a cocoon of rough woollen blankets—and each other—to keep us warm. But wasn’t it better to keep a fond memory of a holiday fling, rather than try for something more that was bound to fail? A one-night stand was one thing. Trusting him with my heart—and Kelis’s—was another thing altogether. I’d made the sensible decision. I knew that. So what if the ache in my chest and the emptiness of my arms were telling me I was making the second biggest mistake of my life? * * * * It seemed like I’d only just got to sleep when my alarm went off next morning at six A.M. Despite the tiredness—or maybe because of it—I felt light-headed, almost giddy. The subconscious moves in mysterious ways, and I’d awoken knowing exactly what I needed to do, although the thought of actually doing it made me have to close my eyes and take a couple of deep breaths. I set about packing our things, then roused Kelis. “How would you feel about breakfast on Holy Island?” I asked, trying to sound casual. That was one way to get her eyes open. “With Chloe and the Vikings?” “Well, maybe not with them. But we’d see them soon after.” “Yay!” I took that as a yes, and couldn’t help matching her bright smile. “It’ll mean we won’t get home today, though,” I cautioned. “We’ll have to find somewhere to stay on the way tomorrow night.” “I don’t mind.” She yawned. “Good. We’ll need to hurry to catch the tide. I’ve left you some clothes out, so you get dressed quickly and then make sure I haven’t left anything behind, okay?” My hands were moist on the steering wheel as I drove us back over the causeway. Would Ian be pleased to see me? Or was I just about to ruin a perfectly good memory by trying to make something more out of it? I guessed I was about to find out. The visitor car park on Lindisfarne was two-thirds full already. Clearly the prospect of some good old-fashioned blood and guts was enough to get people out of bed early, even on a bank holiday weekend. Kelis and I got breakfast on the way to the priory, a couple of cheese baguettes which we polished off on the short walk, although mine was sitting uneasily in my stomach as we neared the priory gates. I hoped we’d be able to get in—the place wasn’t due to open for another half hour yet. Ian was there already, by the longboat, dressed as he had been the previous day in his Viking kit, his dreadlocked head down over the weapons table. The euphoria I’d woken up with had faded, and doubt kicked me in the gut. Was I doing the right thing, coming back? I certainly wasn’t doing the sensible thing. Sensible would have been to get home on time, get back to work when I’d told my clients I would, and avoid all free-spirited hippy types like the plague. But then again, if I’d been sensible all my life, I’d never have had Kelis. If I’d been a little less sensible when she’d been three, and I’d been out of university with a proper home and some money in the bank, I’d have had her in my life that much sooner. I’d thought about it seriously—going to see Shandi, demanding a part in my daughter’s life. But in the end I’d let my doubts keep me away. Told myself it was better not to risk rocking the boat. So I never got to find out that Shandi had fallen out with her mum and moved out on her own again. Or that she’d started using drugs, and neglecting my daughter. Who knew how differently all our lives might have turned out if I’d just thrown caution to the winds? Kelis, who’d been chattering away about something or other, suddenly noticed who was there. “Ian!” she shouted, waving frantically, oblivious to my existential crisis. Ian looked up and saw us—he could hardly fail to, the way Kelis was bouncing up and down. His face broke into a broad, delighted smile. “You came back,” he said when we were within earshot of normal speech, and not just Kelis’s ear-splitting yells. I took a deep breath. “Yeah. Turned out I’d left something on the island.” His eyes seemed to see right through me, but not in a bad way. It was more like he could see where I was coming from. “Something valuable, was it?” “Yeah. Well, you know. Sentimental value, and all that.” Kelis huffed. “Da-ad. What are you talking about? We didn’t leave anything here, did we?” “Course we didn’t. Don’t know what I was thinking of,” I said, still gazing at Ian, at the little crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the pleased disbelief in them that made him look ten years younger. The light-headed feeling was back full force, and I didn’t care. “Tell you what, sweetheart, if you go in the priory, maybe you’ll find Chloe and Jack?” “Aren’t you coming?” “I’ll be along in a mo. I just wanted to say thanks to Ian here.” She frowned. “What for?” “Oh, you know. Helping me find something important.” “Oh. Yeah, thanks, Ian,” she said carelessly, and skipped off into the priory. I watched her go for a moment, then turned back to Ian, suddenly nervous again. “Um, you did get I wasn’t talking about her necklace?” Still smiling, Ian shook his head. “Do I look like I’m daft? No, don’t answer that. Come here.” Strong, wool-clad arms slipped around my waist, and Ian pulled me in for a kiss. Then somebody wolf-whistled, and Balder’s voice came from behind me saying, “Bloody hell, get a longhouse, you two. That’s not how you’re supposed to be frightening the tourists,” and we broke apart, laughing. * * * * Epilogue It was a hot summer’s day on the island of Lindisfarne, my daughter was off spinning wool with her surrogate grandmother, and my home-made habit was itching like crazy. Next time I was going to follow Sharon’s advice and go for some anachronistic underwear. She’d promised not to shop me to Kevin, sorry, Balder. I was sitting at a trestle table in a little tent, pounding berries with a pestle while the more senior scribe (Finan, or Nigel to his friends) explained what I was doing to a crowd of rapt little visitors. There was a sudden commotion at the entrance to the tent, and a blond, dreadlocked head appeared above the kiddies’ faces. I made my eyes go wide. “Uh-oh. I think our monastery’s just been invaded.” Ian’s grin was feral, and he hefted an axe—blunted, although the tourists probably couldn’t tell. We had a house full of weapons now, a motley collection of battleaxes, broadswords, daggers and helmets Kelis was strictly forbidden from allowing her friends to play with, on pain of having to watch Ian and me snog in front of them. Ian had been living with us for nearly six months, ever since he’d discovered on one of his weekend visits that Cambridgeshire had just as many trees in need of attention as Bath had. Who’d have thought it? I’d worried, initially, that he’d move in, and a few months later the wanderlust would strike. Ian had kissed me, and gently explained he’d never had anything to stay in one place for, before. “Urrrrr,” Ian growled, the low tone dripping with menace. The kiddies squealed. Nigel rolled his eyes. “Not again. Third invasion this week, this is. Told you, mate, we’ve already given.” There was an exasperated cry from outside, and then Balder burst into the tent. “Ulf? Ulf! Not yet. Come on, back to the boat. Sorry, kids, he’s just a bit too eager to hack off some heads. Tomorrow, Ulf. You get to kill people tomorrow.” “Ur,” Ian complained as he was led away. I was disappointed, too. We hadn’t even got to the monk-licking part this time. Ah, well. We could always do that later, in the privacy of our own tent. In fact, I was counting on it. THE END