Page 133 of A Secret Scottish Escape

I was overcome with emotion as I watched my dad thrash the drums before Mikey launched into their first track.

Jack played the keyboard with his usual pizazz, Stan carried an air of solid, quiet confidence, and Mikey flirted unashamedly with the female members of the audience. But it was Ed’s odd behaviour that caught my eye.

His attention kept flicking towards the door.

“Does Ed seem all right to you?” I whispered in Faith’s ear.

She tilted her ponytail to one side. “I thought he seemed a bit distracted earlier.”

I turned to look at her. “His wife is here. I spotted her earlier in the marquee.” I peered across the silhouetted heads of the crowd in front of us and shrugged. “Oh, it’s probably nothing. More likely a bit of nerves.”

Battalion continued to wow the crowd with a selection of their best songs, delivering the vibrant rock tunes for which they were best known.

When they finished their second encore and soaked up the adulation, a dull sensation took over. This was what I had been dreading. It would soon be time to play Rafe’s exclusive material.

I delved into my clutch bag which I’d secreted behind the bar and checked my texts. There was nothing from Rafe, not even a polite ‘Hope all goes well tonight’.

That told me all I needed to know.

It was almost seven o’clock and all the fairy lights outside the entrance would flicker into life shortly.

Trying not to register my hurt over Rafe, I made my way onto the stage and suggested to the audience that they might like to step outside for a few moments to see the grand switch on.

The assembled crowd reached for their mobile phones from bags and jackets and held them aloft in anticipation. There were appreciative gasps and words of delight as the silver fairy lights, like snowflakes, flickered to life in a burst of light.

They framed the doorway and beamed entrance of The Conch Club, lacing and looping their way along and down the side of the old boathouse, before stretching along the jetty and out towards the loch.

I addressed the buzzing crowd. “Ladies and gentleman, please join us back inside for an exclusive play of new material by the musician Mask.”

“Whoo-hoo!” whooped Heather, her blonde plaits flying about her shoulders.

I walked back into the boathouse and nodded at Adam, who was manning the bar. He switched on the CD player and the sound of Rafe’s velvety voice drifted through the room.

His lyrics were gorgeous, suiting the lilting guitar before the rhythm picked up and drums and a bass guitar joined in.

As quiet conversation rumbled and the crowd drank in the music, Faith and Greg leaned on the bar beside me. Greg’s mum had arrived and whisked a rather indignant Sam away, so Faith and Greg could enjoy the rest of the evening together.

Faith gave my shoulder a playful nudge. “It’s all going great.”

“Everybody seems to be enjoying themselves,” I conceded.

She offered me a considered look. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Of course I am,” I insisted through an overly bright smile. I fell silent as Rafe’s first song drifted to an end and then the second track, a particular favourite of mine, sprang into life.

I shut my eyes for a moment. This was ridiculous. What was the point in wasting my time thinking about someone who clearly didn’t care about me?

I swung round and snatched up my shawl, which I’d thrown over the back of an empty chair beside me. “I’m going to get some air,” I announced, arranging it around my shoulders. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Faith didn’t reply.

“Is that OK?” I asked, expecting her to answer me. “If you could keep an eye on things in here…”

I looked up from smoothing my shawl but neither she nor Greg were paying any attention to me. They were too preoccupied studying something over my shoulder.