Page 130 of A Secret Scottish Escape

My hands reached tentatively into the darker recesses of my wardrobe, until my fingers connected with a sliver of beige and gold. I pulled at the hanger, bringing with it the long-sleeved sequinned belted dress. It had a V-neckline and shimmered down to my knees.

I held it up against my dressing gown and twisted it this way and that.

I had also bought a pair of strappy gold shoes and a matching quilted clutch bag to go with it.

I rough dried my hair, then scrunched it until it was all tousled and wavy, before pinning it up either side for a dressier look.

Once I’d finished my make-up, I reached for the dress, which slithered over my head and down my body. I tied the belt and stepped back to admire the way it glinted when I moved.

I switched on my bedside lamp for when I returned home later and did the same in the hallway. The early evening sky was still carrying a lavender hue.

The plan was to light up the jetty and the boathouse around 7 p.m. so that by the time the darkness had completely descended around 8 p.m., The Conch Club and surrounding area would already be fully bathed in a wash of silver.

I opened my front door and gave a tiny shiver. There was a hint of an autumnal chill in the air, so I darted back to the bedroom to locate my cream shawl. At least that should stave off the breeze which would travel in across Loch Harris later. With its lace embroidery running along the fringes, it looked rather dressy.

I peered down at my feet. I’d painted my toes in a flash of burgundy polish, but knew I would be struggling by the end of the night if I insisted on keeping on these killer heels.

Congratulating myself on being sensible, I grabbed a carrier bag from the kitchen and made my way back up the hallway towards my shoe rack.

My trusty pair of lace-up long brown boots were sitting beside my trainers. They weren’t as glamorous as what I was wearing, but at least they wouldn’t clash with my dress once the heels became unbearable.

I hitched my clutch bag back under my arm and paused.

The culmination of all the decisions I’d made over the past few months was reaching a peak now. It was strange, but as I opened the door, I could almost imagine Mac standing there, wishing me good luck in that gruff burr of his.

The sky above Loch Harris was taking on a sleepy, pearly sheen as I parked my car by the picnic tables and took a moment to myself.

The Conch Club was glowing. The carriage lights threw out amber rays onto the grass and the huge white marquee bursting through the trees.

From inside the boathouse, I could make out Battalion having a final run through of their set and the odd shadowy figure flitting backwards and forwards behind the windows.

I examined my face in the rear-view mirror. Oh God. I looked like a terrified rabbit caught in headlights.

I wiped a smudge of black mascara away from under my right eye and secured my kirby grips again.

My stomach was rolling from left to right, as though I were trying to steady an out-of-control ship.

Well, here goes.

I gathered up my clutch bag and shawl from the passenger seat and reached down for the carrier bag containing my boots from the footwell.

As I locked the car, I spied Adam, Lewis, and Connor flitting in and out of the marquee flap, carrying trays of glasses. I also recognised the odd Loch Harris resident beginning to arrive and mill around, clutching glasses of sparkling, pale-gold champagne and exclaiming their relief about the weather being kind.

“Layla!”

Faith skipped down the steps of the boathouse, resplendent in a red and white striped shift dress and ruby-coloured Mary Jane shoes.

“Wow! I grinned at her. “You look terrific!”

She didn’t appear convinced. Faith reached up and pulled at her hair, which she’d teased into a strawberry-blonde ponytail. “Are you sure? I think I look like a tube of toothpaste.”

“Don’t be daft. You look wonderful.”

She nodded at me and planted her hands on her hips. “Talk about being the belle of the ball. You look gorgeous!”

Then she made a beckoning motion. “Come in and take a look. Your dad and the guys are rehearsing and the caterers have set up the buffet in the marquee.”

With excitement pumping through me, I stepped through the buzzing entrance. Up on the stage, Dad and the rest of Battalion were gathered in a semi-circle, discussing how they could make one of their song intros more upbeat.