Page 20 of A Secret Scottish Escape

Burying a sob, I turned on my heel and walked robotically back to my car.

Chapter Eleven

“You are not staying in on your own again this Saturday,” insisted Faith later on that afternoon. “It’s the law.”

I rolled my eyes at the other end of the line. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Ms Robertson, we live in Loch Harris, not LA.”

“How dare you!” teased Faith in mock indignation. “This is a heaving, vibrant metropolis with a total of two watering holes.”

“Exactly. There’s not even a music venue in these parts.”

Faith sighed in my ear. “OK. I’ll admit we aren’t overrun with entertainment round here, but don’t try to use that as an excuse to be a boring, old fart.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“We’ll go for a walk and then, if you’re lucky, I’ll treat you to one of Rab’s bar suppers.”

I made a grunting noise. “You’d better not be trying to get me out tonight as an excuse to nag me about that money Mac left me. I’ve already told you, I don’t want anything to do with it.”

There was a theatrical gasp. “How could you even think such a thing?”

I played with the buckle of my belt. “I take it the Loch Harris tourist information office isn’t busy right now, since you’re on the phone to me at 3 p.m. in the afternoon.”

“It’s nowhere near as busy as it should be,” admitted Faith. “If the town wants to survive as a tourist destination, it’s going to have to move with the times.”

“Yes, well, that won’t be something I’ll have to consider for much longer.”

Faith’s stony silence made my stomach lurch. “Please don’t be angry with me,” I pleaded. “I don’t want to go.”

“Then don’t!”

I rubbed at my forehead. “I can’t stay here. Not now. Not after all this.”

“We’ll talk about all that later,” she soothed.

“Faith, there is nothing to talk about.”

“I’ll come by your place for 7.30 p.m.,” she breezed, “and we’ll get a taxi into the village. The first round is on you.”

We stepped out from Duncan’s taxi as the Saturday evening sky twisted into coils of vanilla and peach.

“Sorry about your Mac,” called Duncan out of the cab window.

It turns out he wasn’t my Mac, I thought darkly. “Thanks Duncan.”

Faith slid her arm through mine. “Right, Miss Devlin. The heaving metropolis that is Loch Harris is your oyster. Which drinking establishment are you keen to visit first?”

I cocked one dark brown eyebrow at her. “Faith, I don’t mean to put a dampener on tonight’s proceedings, but in case you have forgotten, we’ve only got two pubs to choose from.”

“I know. So which one of the two will we visit first?”

I paused just outside our post office, with its array of hanging baskets and bevelled windows. My shadow licked across the pavement and onto the quiet road. “Could we just go for a walk first, down by the loch?”

Faith nodded and smiled. “Sure. Whatever you want to do.”

We crossed the road and headed past the sprinkling of shops. There was one selling homeware, inspired by our changing seasons, then there was our local supermarket, sandwiched in between the pharmacy and our celebrated little tea shop, The Busy Bean, where your cholesterol levels rose simply by looking through their window at the sumptuous baking.

Tourist information, where Faith worked, was located up the cobbled lane and just past the post office.