Page 38 of Time of the Druid (Stones of Scotland #7)

Chapter 38

T he traffic noise hit Norah like a physical blow, a wall of sound roaring in her ears as dozens of cars whooshed past just a few feet away. Horns blared in the distance, the shrill wails slicing through the heavy hum of engines. Her hair whipped wildly around her face, stinging her cheeks, and the acrid scent of petrol clung to the damp air. The ground beneath her vibrated faintly with the passage of vehicles, and she instinctively staggered backward from the edge of the tarmac, her heart thudding in her chest as if to match the rhythm of the traffic.

“Sorry,” Matthew shouted in her ear, grabbing her elbow and helping her away from the traffic. “I didn’t realise we’d be so close to the road.”

“Thank God we weren’t in it,” Norah said, trying to gather her confused senses. She’d never had such a smooth journey through time before, but she still felt a little confused and overwhelmed. Landing right beside a busy road did not help.

“Sorry about that,” Matthew said as they got a little bit further away from the road, toward what looked like a small town. “I’m used to traveling via stone circles.”

“Let’s stick to that next time,” Norah said, distinctly shaken. “I think it would be safer.”

Matthew laughed, the sound a little unsteady but genuine, and reached for Norah’s hand, lacing his fingers with hers.

They walked the short distance across the open fields beside the road, the wet grass brushing their boots and the wind cool against their faces. Norah’s free hand drifted to her hair, trying to keep the strands from blowing into her mouth. They clambered over a stile set into a mossy stone wall, its cold, rough surface damp beneath their palms, and found themselves standing on the edge of a quiet street, the sudden hush of the village a peaceful contrast to the road’s roar behind them.

“Where are we?” Norah asked, frowning.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Matthew admitted. “I’m still not as precise at this as I could be. But it doesn’t matter too much. Someone here should let us borrow a phone.”

They were in luck. The owner of the small village shop, a broad-set, chatty man, let them use the phone in the back room of his shop.

“Re-enactors are you?” he asked, looking them up and down.

“Something like that,” Norah said distractedly. “Matthew, who are you calling?”

“A man who owes me a favour,” Matthew said, throwing her a grin and a wink while the phone rang. He already seemed brighter, and even younger. Norah hadn’t realised how much he was also struggling until suddenly it was all gone.

He spoke to a man named Finn, which rang a bell for Norah, although she couldn’t say why. Perhaps she’d worked with him once.

“Well, that’s sorted,” Matthew said, hanging up after exchanging only a few words. “Someone will be along to pick us up very soon.”

They sat in the covered bus stop outside the shop and waited, the cold metal bench biting through the damp fabric of their clothes. Rain began to patter down on the plastic roof above, the steady drumbeat oddly comforting in its familiarity. The streetlights flickered through the mist, casting long, wavery reflections on the wet tarmac. Norah pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, the chill of the evening seeping into her bones. Her breath clouded faintly in the air, and she let her head rest on Matthew’s shoulder, listening to the muted hush of the town around them. A car whooshed past now and again, its headlights briefly lighting up the glass walls of the shelter like a flash of distant lightning.

Norah couldn’t help but laugh softly, a half-delighted, half-disbelieving sound that came from somewhere deep in her chest. "This is bizarre," she said, her voice muffled slightly as she snuggled closer to Matthew. "When we set out from the crannog this morning, I did not expect to end up here."

He laughed out loud.

“It’s a strange life, isn’t it?”

They waited for about an hour, in the end, before a car pulled up beside the bus stop. In that time, they’d been able to talk about almost everything—Norah’s childhood, Matthew’s time in the nemeton, their favourite twenty-first century foods. But, when the driver, a handsome man with a cocky smile who Norah presumed was Finn, asked where they wanted to go, Norah realised this was one thing they hadn’t discussed. She looked to Matthew for guidance.

“The hospital,” he said firmly. “We need to check that there’s no more poison in our systems.”

“Poison?” Finn asked, sounding intrigued. “Quite an adventure you’ve been on.”

“No questions,” Matthew growled, opening the car door for Norah. Finn just laughed.

Explaining the situation at the hospital was not exactly straightforward, but Norah and Matthew managed to muddle together a story about possible poison ingestion.

“You’d think I was better at this whole lying thing by now,” Norah whispered to Matthew while they waited to see a doctor. He just rolled his eyes.

Another few hours and a lot of tests later, and they were finally both discharged with a clean bill of health. It was dark by the time they staggered down to the hospital reception, both tired and hungry. A kind nurse had made them cups of tea, but Norah realised she hadn’t eaten since the night before, and even with the strength that Matthew’s magic gave her, she was starving.

“Where next?” Matthew asked.

Norah hesitated. The answer seemed obvious, when they were so close to Glasgow… but was it a good idea?

“I’ll call my parents,” she said. “To be honest, it’s the only number I know by heart.”

The friendly receptionist let her use a phone, and Norah dialled the familiar number, her heart in her chest as the phone rang. What if they were away? What if they didn’t want to talk to her?

“Hello?” her dad answered, his voice echoing down the phone. Norah almost burst into tears.

“Hi, Dad,” she said. “It’s me. Norah.”

After floods of tears and exclamations of joy, Norah finally managed to explain to her parents where she was, although she didn’t say why.

“Only half an hour away!” her mother exclaimed, audibly crying. “We’ll be with you as soon as we can.”

Sure enough, exactly half an hour later, Norah’s parents came running through the hospital doors, their shoes squeaking faintly on the polished floor, breath catching as they spotted her. Her mother’s arms were outstretched, her face wet with tears, while her father’s voice broke on a choked laugh of relief.

They wrapped themselves around her, one on each side, clutching her so tightly it almost hurt—and Norah clung to them just as fiercely, burying her face in the soft scent of her mother’s coat and the faint, familiar cologne her father always wore. It was like being ten years old again and waking from a nightmare only to find her parents there, solid and warm and safe. She sobbed without shame, letting the waves of emotion crash over her, and felt her mother gently stroke her hair, murmuring soothing words she couldn’t even process. They didn’t ask any questions, didn’t demand an explanation—they just held her, grounding her to the moment as the sterile, too-bright hospital melted away around them.

At last, though, she had to pull away. And that was when she realised that Matthew stood beside them, awkwardly watching the whole scene. Never in a thousand years could she have imagined standing here, in between her parents and Matthew Edmondson, of all people.

“Um, Mum, Dad,” she said. “This is Matthew. He’s… I guess he’s my boyfriend.”

That news was received with even more hugs and tears as Matthew was thoroughly welcomed into the family. Norah would have to do a lot more explaining, but for now it seemed that everything was falling perfectly into place.

“Get yourselves into the car,” her mother ordered. “We’ve a pizza to collect on the way home.”

Norah’s stomach rumbled out loud, perfectly on cue. Matthew hugged her against him, his arm around her waist, and Norah let herself relax just a bit more. She really had made it home.