Page 109 of A Secret Scottish Escape

Norrie beckoned me closer to his hedge. It was spotted with the remnants of shiny raindrops. “Rumours are rife that he murdered someone.”

My mouth flatlined. This Angela Burrows/Belle Raven character was certainly doing all she could to make sure Mask was the talk of Loch Harris. I greeted his comment with what I hoped was an authentic-sounding, dry laugh. “Who’s been saying that?”

He dropped his voice to an audible whisper, even though the only company we had was the surrounding trees and grass verges. “Some woman who’s staying at a friend of our Sophie’s.”

I shot forward, almost sending myself toppling into Norrie’s manicured hedge. “Sophie?”

Norrie studied me as though I were trying to communicate with him in Mandarin. “Sophie. Our daughter-in-law. Married to our Ross?”

The optimism in my voice was fighting to escape. “Oh. Of course. Right. And does Sophie’s friend own a hotel or…?”

“A new wee bed and breakfast place near Finton,” clarified Norrie. “Sophie said it’s a sweet wee place, all hanging baskets and floral curtains.”

Was it her? I tried to sound calm. “You don’t happen to know what this woman looks like or remember her name? The guest, I mean?”

“What woman? For God’s sake man, the poor lass is getting soaked!” Clem asked, bustling up behind Norrie.

I glanced up at the sky, only just realising that another shower was beginning to splat onto the lane and me. I couldn’t let it deter me.

“Clem, you don’t happen to know who this woman is who’s staying with Sophie’s friend at her B&B?”

Clem hit Norrie with one of her disapproving glares. “I can see someone has been gossiping again. Honestly man, you can’t hold your own water!”

“I’m not gossiping, woman. I’m merely making polite conversation.”

“Aye, sure you are,” said Clem, pinching her mouth.

I hopped from foot to foot in agitation, unphased by the summer rain. “This woman,” I began as patiently as I could muster. “The one who Sophie was talking about. Do you know who she is?”

Clem’s ample bosom strained under the confines of her buttoned coat. “I don’t, but I can ring our Sophie and ask her.”

I thanked her and she delivered a wry smile. “I take it from the eager look on your face that you’d like me to ring her now?”

I placed my hands together in a praying motion. “I’d be really grateful.”

Clem pulled her silver mobile out of her coat pocket and tapped a couple of buttons.

Fortunately, the rain was dissipating now and an almost marmalade hue was sliding across the sky.

Clem chatted to her daughter-in-law for a few moments about the weather and whether her car had passed its MOT. Then she got around to asking her about her friend’s B&B and the Australian guest.

“Yes,” said Clem into her mobile. “That’s right. The woman you were talking about.”

Clem made a few murmurs under my watchful gaze. “Yes, love. The one with the Australian accent. What does she look like?”

Clem shot me a few sideways glances while focussing on what Sophie was telling her. “OK love. Thank you. See you soon.”

Her greying hair bobbed up and down as she terminated the call with a “Oh and give our love to Ross.”

She thrust her phone back into her coat pocket, her powdery, round face bursting with importance.

“Well, get on with it, woman,” moaned Norrie. “The lass has no time for your theatricals.”

Clem ignored her husband. “The woman’s name is Meredith Stone.”

I blinked several times at her. “Not Angela Burrows?”

Clem shook her head. “Sophie was round visiting Nicola at the B&B this morning. She said that was definitely the name she gave.”