Excerpted from THE MIDNIGHT SECRET by Karen Swan, published by Macmillan, an imprint of Pan Macmillan. Copyright © 2025 by Karen Swan.
The water glittered sugar pink as the rising sun nosed above the horizon. Jayne sat on deck, her knees tucked to her chest and feeling the wind ripple through her hair. She had untied her signature braid, wanting to feel free in the elements. Unbound.
She wasn’t alone. Most of the villagers were up here too – David, Donald and Mhairi, Angus and Fin MacKinnon, Effie, Mad Annie - unable to sleep through the plunge and roll of the Atlantic, too excited to risk missing the first sighting of home. Only Norman remained below deck, sleeping in MacLeod’s feathered bed.
He had been displeased to find her on board. He had been irritated enough by her absence at breakfast when he had woken from his drunken stupor to find no breakfast ready for him; but to miss two lots of wages, he had argued…Jayne had simply shrugged saying she wanted to see her home again too. It was a defiance that had not gone unnoticed and she knew he would punish her for it at a later time. For now at least, she was safe in company.
She watched the horizon, a line that never tilted though the boat cut and carved through the water in sweeping arcs, powered by billowing sails.
‘…Is that...?’ Donald asked suddenly, getting to his knees to peer more closely. ‘Is that her?’
The villagers followed the direction of his pointed finger. Sure enough, a pale indistinct haze could be just made out, a shadow in the distance that began to grow in density and form as they drew ever closer.
Jayne never took her eyes off it, her heart thudding faster, harder as they ploughed through the waves. Destiny was calling, she could feel it…
‘There she is!’ Mad Annie cried, pulling her handkerchief from her shirt pocket and waving it as if she expected it to wave back. Everyone else cheered and waved too, even though they knew it was ridiculous, but they had to do something with their hands. Like an old dog getting to its feet on its master’s return, so their island home steadily reared up, blotting the horizon once more.
It took another two hours from that first tentative glimpse for their home to fully rise from the sea; noble and majestic, St Kilda’s ragged stone walls emerged cathedral-like, a black diadem from the blue. Drawing closer still, they saw the stacks, standing like sentries in the sea as the waves battered them with huge heaving run-ups, the scattered landmasses of the archipelago – Dun, Boreray and Soay - clustering around Hirta like huddling sheep. And as they slipped into the kelpy basin of the underwater caldera, the skies grew thick with seabirds and the soundtrack of their past came to their ears. There was none of the lilting melodies of the songbirds on the mainland; rather a savage cacophony of strangled shrieks and murderous cries. The sounds of home.
Jayne saw Effie sitting erect, her rope looped around waist as she eyed the cliffs that had once been her playground. Angus threw a cheeky comment her way – some kind of bet, it seemed – and in the next moment Effie was shaking his hand with an intense expression.
‘Norman, you’re awake!’ Angus cheered as a dark tousled head appeared at the top of the steps.
‘How was I supposed to sleep over the racket y’re making?’ Norman muttered, coming to sit beside Jayne. His breath was sour and he looked rough – his black eye had yellowed, the cuts still crusted with scabs. ‘You’d think they’d never seen the place before.’
David glanced over at the two of them, looking away again before she could catch his eye.
‘If you’re so unmoved by coming back Norman, why did you bother coming at all?’ she asked. It was provocative of her to be so direct. Confrontational even. But she reminded herself that she had to be bold, brave and courageous because she had to know - why was he here?
Norman regarded her. ‘You’ve quite a mouth on y’ at the moment Jayne,’ he said loudly. ‘Have y’ got your monthly curse?’
David’s head whipped around as she felt her cheeks flame. She quickly looked away and Norman chuckled, his objective achieved.
They were sailing past Boreray now and the crew began hauling in the sails, slowing their speed so that they curled into Village Bay at a declining clip. Immediately the waters calmed, the wind dropping as the cliffs encircled them with a loving embrace, welcoming them home. The villagers gathered at the bow rails and Jayne caught her breath as she caught her first sight again of the village, the stone cottages standing there just as they’d left them, forgotten foot-soldiers still in formation on the battlefield.
A collective silence blanketed the boat and tears pricked her eyes as she saw their own ghosts: Mad Annie sitting on the wall, knitting…Ma Peg carding on the stool in her doorway…White sheets flapping in the wind down the long allotments that stretched all the way to the beach…Angus and Fin patching a roof…The men hauling the smack…Children running barefoot around the cleits…Chimneys puffing and golden squares from windows on moonlit grass…Effie dangling on a rope…Mhairi and Flora dancing on the sand…Lorna washing bandages in the burn…Molly and David kissing on a path…And Jayne herself, sitting on the rocks as the sun went down, a silvered silhouette upon which bruises couldn’t be read.
She saw it all, the lives they had lived here and it seemed to her their laughter still echoed around the glen, hymns sounding in the kirk, their shouts forever red-hot in the snow.
Another yacht was already at anchor, shadowy figures on the beach telling them that the lairds and their minister had arrived in advance. But one glinted like a nugget of gold.
Beside her, Effie startled. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘What’s he doing here?’
Excerpted from THE MIDNIGHT SECRET by Karen Swan, published by Macmillan, an imprint of Pan Macmillan. Copyright © 2025 by Karen Swan.
The mystery of St Kilda's residents are all revealed in the epic conclusion to Karen Swan's historical series set in Scotland.
Jayne Ferguson has always been a keeper of secrets, most especially her own . . .
If there’s one thing Jayne Ferguson has learnt in her life, it’s that every blessing comes with a curse. She married the most handsome man on the isle of St Kilda - but he’s a bully. She inherited her mother’s gift of second sight - but only ever foresees her fellow islanders’ deaths. She has learnt to keep to herself, treading in the shadows and shirking the highs for fear of the lows.
When a needless death strikes at the heart of her home, Jayne’s bad marriage becomes worse and she finds solace with an unlikely friend. Glimmers of happiness tantalise her, though there’s no possibility for anything more, especially once word comes of St Kilda’s evacuation.
But as the day draws near, tensions on the island rise. Secrets are being forced to the surface, passions and enmities erupting with equal violence. A man is killed, as Jayne knew he would be, and her closest friends Effie, Mhairi and Flora are each implicated.
On the mainland, the villagers scatter into new lives, hoping distance means refuge. But then Jayne has another of her dreams and she knows the past isn’t done with them yet.
The Midnight Secret is the fourth and final book in Karen Swan's sweeping, bestselling Wild Isles series, following on from The Last Summer, The Stolen Hours and The Lost Lover.
Suspense Historical | Paranormal Historical [Macmillian, On Sale: April 24, 2025, e-Book , ISBN: 9781035051632 / ]
Karen Swan worked as a Fashion Editor before moving into writing fiction. She is married with three children and lives in the Ashdown Forest in East Sussex, writing her books in a treehouse overlooking the South Downs.
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