Raven Black

Начало книги

It was foolhardy to attempt a book set in Shetland while living in West Yorkshire. It would have been impossible without the help and support of Shetlanders. Thanks to Bob Gunn, to everyone at the Shetland Arts Trust, especially Chrissie and Alex, to Morag at Lerwick Library, to Becky and Floortje for an insight into what it is to be young, and to Becky again for her detailed advice on the script. A special mention for Fair Isle, where it all started and for our friends there. Despite this help, there will probably be inaccuracies. They are all mine.

Chapter One

Twenty past one in the morning on New Year's Day, Magnus knew the time because of the fat clock, his mother's clock, which squatted on the shelf over the fire. In the corner the raven in the wicker cage muttered and croaked in its sleep. Magnus waited. The room was prepared for visitors, the fire banked with peat and on the table a bottle of whisky and the ginger cake he'd bought in Safeway's the last time he was in Lerwick. He could feel himself dozing but he didn't want to go to bed in case someone should call at the house. If there was a light at the window someone might come, full of laughter and drams and stories. For eight years nobody had visited to wish him happy new year, but still he waited just in case.

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