An Imposter in Shetland by Marsali Taylor
- authorvalpenny
- Jul 26
- 3 min read
I am thrilled Marsali Taylor has agreed to come back to the blog and share an excerpt from her new novel, An Imposter in Shetland, on the blog today. I'm sure you will enjoy it, and the book itself, as much as I did.
The Blurb
When an internet lifestyle influencer arrives on Shetland to document her 'perfect' holiday, the locals are somewhat sceptical.
Joining a boat trip to the remote islands of St Kilda with sailing sleuth Cass Lynch and her partner DI Gavin Macrae, the young woman seems more concerned with her phone than the scenery.
But when it's time to leave, there's no sign of her. Despite mounting a desperate search, she's seemingly vanished without trace - from a small island in the middle of the sea.
As a puzzling investigation gathers pace, there are more questions than answers - and uncovering the truth will reveal dark and long-hidden secrets...
The Excerpt
Cass and Gavin explore St Kilda
‘Upwards it is.’ I hoped my legs would be up to striding up these vertical mountains at Gavin’s hill-accustomed pace. I vaguely expected that he’d follow the road curving round the shore before heading upwards, but he went up by the side of the kirk and headed straight for the precipitous curve of the hill he’d called Conachair. The first part of the way was soft turf, sprinkled with dark tufts of wool and sheep droppings and scattered with building stones; then we came through the shoulder-height wall and walked over rougher moorland to a second wall, with these mini-brochs standing in a line along it, and then onto the hill proper. It was so steep that I was soon using my hands to go up it on all fours. There was a large boulder every so often, and I was grateful when Gavin stopped at one which was big enough for us both to sit on. ‘Let’s admire the view.’ He wasn’t even slightly breathless.
‘Yes, let’s,’ I agreed, and dropped beside him.
It was worth stopping for. The hill swept down below us, olive grass, the row of dyke, dark-shadowed on our side, the open-topped cleitan, then, as we came closer to the houses, the cleitan that were still roofed with green turf. After them the land turned green, and the line of ruined houses lay below us, with their squares and rectangles of long-gone kailyards behind them. Past them, a series of green parks ran to the road, the shore, the sea. The cruise liner lay in the centre of the bay, with Swan an elegant masted toy beside her, her sweep of side shining moss green in the sun. A fleet of little tenders buzzed around in a spurt of white wash. A couple of other boats had arrived while we’d been climbing, fifty-foot motorboats with an enclosed cabin – the speedboats that brought people out to St Kilda from Harris for a day trip. Beyond them, the sea was flat and pale, with the mountains of Harris cloud-grey on the horizon. We should be able to see them as we sailed back to the Hebrides tomorrow.
‘It must have been strange,’ Gavin said. He was looking at the houses. ‘Those folk, living so close together, all kin, having lived like that all their lives, then when they moved to the mainland, they were split up. The government sent them wherever they had a house to spare. From having done everything as a community, the women were left in a house alone all day while their man was working at the forestry.’
I gave him a disbelieving look. ‘Forestry?’ My eyes swept around the bare hills. ‘When they’d never seen a tree in their lives?’
‘It was the work there was.’ Gavin nodded at Boreray, with its two stacks beside it. ‘They were great climbers, remember. It was work they were willing to do, to get away. There were almost no young people here, and no regular steamer service. It was a hard, hard life, and with no education beyond primary school. The man who had young children, he was one of the keenest to go. He wanted his bairns to have something more.’
I took a deep breath, and gazed out at the shining sea, and imagined having grown up with that, and then being moved to a a small house surrounded by trees.
The Author
Marsali Taylor grew up near Edinburgh, and came to Shetland as a newly-qualified teacher. She is currently a part-time teacher on Shetland’s scenic west side, living with her husband and two Shetland ponies. Marsali is a qualified STGA tourist-guide who is fascinated by history, and has published plays in Shetland’s distinctive dialect, as well as a history of women's suffrage in Shetland. She's also a keen sailor who enjoys exploring in her own 8m yacht, and an active member of her local drama group.
The Links
Comentarios