Page 10 of A Secret Scottish Escape

I jerked my face up from the graveside to see a cluster of Mac’s writing buddies surrounding me with hesitant yet concerned expressions. Did any of them know about Mac and Hannah? Were they pitying stares?

“Let’s get you in the car,” interrupted Dad, guiding me through the throng. He addressed the group of solemn faces. “Thank you very much for coming and please feel free to join us at the wake.”

Murmurs followed us as he led me away. “I’ve asked Lois to join us in our car so we can all go to the wake together.”

Catching sight of my slumping shoulders, Faith excused herself from speaking to Reverend Callan and hurried towards me. She pinned me to the spot with caring hands. “Just put in an appearance and we will leave whenever you want to, OK?”

I answered her with a watery smile. “Thank you. I don’t think I could have got through all this without you and my dad.”

My father sighed. “We’re a team Layla, you and I. We always have been.”

We approached the black Daimler, where Lois was hovering. “Thanks ever so much for insisting I travel with you.”

Dad flapped away her gratitude. “Don’t be silly. I suppose we’re all family – in a way.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Or at least, we were meant to be.”

Ignoring the tilt of Hannah’s grey hat amongst the throng, we all clambered into the car and focused on the avenue of trees and the assorted mourners drifting back to their parked vehicles.

Images slipped past the window, and with that came the realisation that Mac was gone and all I was left with was the empty promise of an engagement ring rattling around inside my clutch bag and a lasting image of him collapsed on top of his naked ex-wife.

As if reading my thoughts, Lois shifted round in the front passenger seat to look at me. She didn’t say anything. Neither did I. We swapped meaningful stares.

Dad and Faith were bunched up beside me on the back seat. Faith’s silk shirt was a little rumpled and I noticed that my dad had loosened his tie.

I was so conflicted, so charged, that I couldn’t even muster up the energy to think about Mac’s solicitor friend. Whatever it was, I would do it. All I wanted was to see the back of this dappled morning in April.

During the funeral arrangements, Lois had mentioned The Aldebaran, an old hotel on the outskirts of Loch Harris, as a possible venue for Mac’s wake.

“Mac always said the place had so much character,” explained Lois. “He even said it had influenced him for the setting of his next novel.”

And so it was that I found myself, my dad, my best friend, and the woman who had almost become my sister-in-law being driven into the semi-circular car park of The Aldebaran.

I was relieved to see we had arrived first.

“I think we all deserve a bloody big drink,” exclaimed Dad, thanking the driver. He linked arms with me and Faith, and Lois followed up the rear.

The architecture of the hotel was dove-grey brick that twinkled prettily under the west coast light. Sash windows blinked out like inquisitive eyes, and underneath the canopied green and blue tartan entrance sat two fat shrubs in cream pots.

We all filed in and were directed by a member of staff to the right-hand side of the chrome reception area.

A function room boasting the name ‘Selkie’ was laid out with tables adorned in starched white tablecloths, and members of the hotel staff were placing platters of miniature seafood canapés, assorted sandwiches with tuna, brie, and egg, mini tartlets, and focaccia onto the tables.

On a smaller side table was an array of freshly baked fruit, plain, and cheese scones, lemon shortbread, and slices of cheesecake.

I gratefully accepted a glass of white wine offered by a passing waiter and took a generous mouthful. The crispness hit the back of my throat. Faith came up to join me, also clutching a glass of wine.

“I like the name of this room,” I commented. “Did you know selkies were mythical Scottish creatures who could transform themselves from seal to human form and back again?”

Faith picked up a plate and napkin. “So they say.”

“Kind of ironic really. That’s what Mac was doing. He was leading a double a life with Hannah and I knew sod all about it.”

Faith’s pink mouth popped open to reassure me, but I waggled my wine glass. “I just want to get this bloody charade over with.”

Murmurings made us both swing round. The remainder of the mourners were wandering in, exclaiming politely at the midnight-blue carpeting, ivory walls, and chandelier dripping from the ceiling.

“You need to eat something,” ordered Faith, thrusting the napkin and plate into my free hand. “Go on.”