‘Of course, look at them.’
Sure enough, the queue to walk through the curtain was populated by elegant, angular, ethereal beings, all cheekbone and barely an unbleached eyebrow amongst them.
‘But…’ Euan held his hands to his ribs. ‘But I’m…’
Now it was Peaches’ turn to reassure him.
‘You’re just as beautiful as any of these pros. Believe me. I wanted to show my clothes on ordinary people. I want to prove my clothes are beautiful, and not just because they’re draped on bodies that fit narrow beauty standards. Like this.’ She stepped back to let him see her in her clothes, and she wasn’t prepared for the change in his features.
His eyes fell across her body in a way no one’s ever had before. She saw his pupils shrink to tiny black stars and she could have sworn he was heaving a breath into his lungs like he was having a hard time controlling his own body.
‘Peaches!’ someone hissed. ‘You’re on next!’
14
The news anchor was enjoying herself immensely, reporting live from the foot of Mount Cairn Dhu where, on the lowest outcrop on the western slope, the first of the Walpurgisnacht beacon fires was sputtering and sparking against the wind, glowing red then falling dark as the winds blew through it, so it had the look of a lighthouse’s lamp flashing on and off behind her.
‘Welcome to the second of two special reports this evening, coming live from the Cairngorms where the famous Walpurgisnacht celebrations have begun in earnest. You can see the first of the hill beacons burning behind me.’ Morag Füssli pointed a leather-gloved finger into the air for viewers at home unable to spot the glow in the twilit landscape behind her.
‘Only moments ago we were battered by localised gales which meteorologists confirm reached sixty miles an hour as they channelled through the Garten Valley, resulting in a wild tempest here at the confluence of the River Nithy and Cairn Dhu Mountain. I can only describe it as like being caught in a great cauldron stirred by a Walpurgisnacht witch. The danger is over for locals, but police and mountain rescue are advising everyone to stay close to home tonight and not attempt any unnecessary journeys.’
‘But back to these historic beacons. They have been lit for centuries across the range on the last night of April. Joining me to tell us more about the tradition is Cairn Dhu Mountain ranger, Finlay Morlich. Good evening, Finlay.’
The camera pulled out to reveal a man in green hiking gear standing awkwardly by her side, and, by the serious set of his face, he wasn’t sharing in the newscaster’s enthusiasm for the fire-lighting tradition.
‘Finlay, you were responsible for lighting the first beacon this evening up on the hill behind me. Can you tell our viewers why locals observe this custom?’
For a startled second Finlay shot back a blank look before gathering himself. ‘I, uh, I’ve done it since I moved to the range. Damned reckless in my opinion, what with the risk of wildfires, but if my bosses and Fire Officer Dunoon tell me to do it, I’ve nae choice in the matter.’ He scowled down the camera lens.
Morag did not like this answer, though she seemed determined not to show it. Her lips pulled into a warning smile as she spoke.
‘Beacons are set alight in a chain every few hundred yards along the main routes through the valley to banish the last remnants of winter and to welcome in spring, isn’t that right, Mr Morlich? And legend has it that on Walpurgisnacht, evil powers are at their strongest and spells and magic are everywhere. Some locals say it’s best to stay home tonight because the witches and wise women walk abroad before their banishment on St Walpurga’s day tomorrow?’
She held the mic to Finlay’s mouth.
‘Was that a question?’
Her eyelids flickered in irritation but she held the mic still. This man seemed determined to try her patience.
Finlay tried his best to give her what she’d come for. ‘All I can say for a fact is that we are now sitting exactly halfway between the spring equinox and the summer solstice. That’s scientific fact.’
‘Walpurgisnacht is a pagan celebration dating back a thousand years, is it not? Not a night for walking out of doors?’
‘My late mother would call it heathenish. I don’t hold with any of that, only to say it’s never safe to go kicking aboot on or near the hills after dark on any night of the year. Stay indoors and keep away from bonfires in general, and never mind about nae witches. It’s the ordinary locals being dangers to themselves that trouble me!’
‘Earlier on here, we saw some very strong, localised winds that brought down two trees and an electricity pylon, blocking roads in and out of Cairn Dhu. Ranger teams were working with emergency services to get those cleared in time for the May Day traffic tomorrow. Are routes clear now?’
‘Just aboot.’
Morag seemed to be realising that this was all she was going to get out of the taciturn man.
‘OK. Finlay Morlich, thank you for joining us, I suppose.’
‘Hold on, hold on.’ He pulled the mic. ‘You lot called it freak winds? If the governments and the ordinary folk dinnae make real efforts to reverse climate change we’ll be seeing mair and mair of these surprise weather events. There’s no’ a scientist on the planet thinks these are unconnected?—’
She yanked the mic back to her mouth. ‘Right, thank you, Mr Morlich. Any last May Day messages for the folks watching at home?’
Finlay’s brow quirked with surprise at this. ‘Oh, uh, well, since you ask.’ He looked into the camera. ‘Murray and Nell? Sleep tight. I’ll be back by morning.’ Finlay seemed quite pleased with this, even managing a smile for his boyfriend watching at home with their dog.
