Page 128 of A Secret Scottish Escape

After a quick shower, hair wash and nibbling some cereal, I dressed in my old denims and drove to the boathouse. There had been a couple of heavy showers overnight, so the woodland was laced with damp, but the forecast for the rest of the day was settled. As long as there weren’t any further downpours, that was fine with me.

As I eased my car to a stop in front of the picnic tables outside the club, there came the sound of laughter and shouting.

I gathered my bag from the passenger seat and clambered out. My Converse trainers squeaked over the damp grass.

What greeted me, as I stepped out of the bank of trees and towards The Conch Club, was the sight of a billowing, white marquee being erected by a cluster of student types.

Adam and Richie had said they would be able to recruit a few of their friends to help out, and I had enthusiastically agreed with the promise to pay them a competitive rate each for their trouble.

Faith was already there, emerging from the boathouse as she chatted to Molly. “The electrician is stringing all the fairy lights up now,” she grinned. “Oh Layla, you should see them. They’re gorgeous.”

She steered me by the elbow through The Conch Club, which was a sea of squashy new furniture and decorated in the most beautiful shades of blue, reflected out of the rear patio doors that I had asked to be fitted.

The water was calmer today, like a lapping lake of silver, and the jetty looked amazing, with the tables and chairs now in situ.

“You wait till tonight,” Faith bubbled beside me. “If it looks this fantastic during the day, it’s going to look even more incredible this evening.”

We headed back into the boathouse. Marie and Lewis were unpacking glasses from brown cardboard boxes, while Connor was stocking the mirrored shelves behind the bar with bottles of wine.

The air was filled with clinking and rattling.

I saw Faith blossom into a wide smile as Greg appeared, carrying another box of glasses towards the bar. “I hope you don’t mind, but Greg offered to help out and I thought we could be doing with some extra hands.”

I waved at him. We actually had tons of extra help, but the sight of her so happy and brimming with contentment was worth it.

Faith pointed to another box sitting on the floor in front of the curved bar. “The table tealights are in there.”

I ripped apart the brown tape. Nestled inside were dozens of tiny circular white candles, encased in glass, but on the front of each glass vessel was a small impression of a conch shell. They were gorgeous.

I beamed to myself and started placing one on each of the inside tables first, before venturing out onto the jetty to decorate the tables there.

“It’s all coming together,” grinned Dad, materialising at my shoulder.

We stood back to admire the interior of glossy, circular tables, quilted seats and swathes of tartan curtains. “It seems to be. You guys all set for tonight then?”

Dad moved to say something but we were interrupted by heavy feet negotiating the wooden floor. It was Jack. “Well, we would be, but we seem to have temporarily lost our bass player.”

Dad frowned. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no sign of Ed.” Jack offered me an awkward smile and then turned back to my dad. “Stan just noticed his car has vanished from the picnic area.”

A random thought entered my head. No. Surely not. “You don’t think he’s had second thoughts about performing this evening?”

Jack pulled a face. “I wouldn’t have thought so. He’s been fine about it all since then.”

Dad’s mouth tightened with annoyance. “Well, whatever it is, it would have been nice of him to say when he would be back.” He glowered down at his watch. “This place opens in six hours and I’m not happy with the ending of ‘You’re Trouble’. I’m sure we could sharpen that up.”

Jack offered Dad a matey pat on the back. “Don’t worry, Harry. Everything will be fine.”

Dad’s mood visibly darkened. “It’d bloody better be.”

Faith, busy placing the drinks and snacks menu on each table, wandered over and watched Dad march back outside. “Harry’s normally so laid back about everything.”

Jack nodded. “I know, but it’s not every day your daughter launches her own business.” He smiled at me. “I think your dad’s in more of a state than you are.”

“Don’t bet on it,” I grimaced.

Jack moved off. “I’ll catch up with Stan and Mikey, to see if The Invisible Man has reappeared yet.”