Page 29 of A Secret Scottish Escape

“Oh, you’ve got me intrigued now.”

I tilted my chin upwards and pinned on a smile. Excitement and trepidation squirmed around inside of me. “I’ve decided I’m going to buy Norrie’s old boathouse and turn it into a live music venue.”

I don’t think I have ever seen my dad look as shocked.

Chapter Thirteen

There was nothing but a charged silence.

“Dad? I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I am,” he insisted, not sounding convinced. “I’m delighted you aren’t moving away. It’s just that starting your own music venue is bloody hard graft.”

I studied him from across the table, the stippled, Sunday morning sunshine catching the angles of his face. “And this coming from a rock drummer.”

“Exactly. Look, darling, when I was in Battalion, we saw first-hand what long hours and commitment those places had to put in.”

I snatched up my tea and cupped it in my hands. “So you think I’m not up to it?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth, Layla.”

I took a sulky drink. “So, what are you trying to say then?”

Dad blew out a cloud of air. “I don’t mean to rain on your parade, love, but Loch Harris is hardly Nashville.”

“I realise that, but it needs something to give the area a boost and attract more visitors.”

Warming to the idea, I leaned forward. “I wouldn’t be competing with Sydney Opera House. What I had in mind was a cosy, intimate, live music lounge. It would be somewhere where bands and singers can really connect with their audience.”

I smiled when I thought of the dazzling view of the loch with which Norrie’s business was graced. “And that old boathouse is in such a stunning location.”

Dad drained the last of his coffee. “I’m not doubting your enthusiasm for a moment, and I know you inherit your love of music from me. But a lot of those musician types…” His rumbly voice tailed off.

I fidgeted with my trainers under the garden table. “Dad, you’re one of those musician types.”

He tried not to smile. “That’s my point.”

I then realised he was in protective father mode. “Oh, don’t tell me this is your way of warning me about getting my heart broken by some long-haired Lothario?”

Pictures of Mac and Hannah swept in front of me and I straightened my shoulders. “The last thing I need is another relationship.”

I smiled at my dad. “I thought you’d be delighted. This means I’ll be staying in Loch Harris.”

“Don’t be daft, lass. You know I don’t want you to leave.”

I swallowed the last of my tea and put down my mug with a decisive clatter. “I’m going to put that money to good use. And this music venture would be good for Loch Harris.”

A flare of determination caught me off guard and I jumped to my feet.

“Where are you off to now? I thought we could pop down to The Fiddler’s Rest for a cooked breakfast. My treat?”

I darted round to where Dad was sitting and threw my arms around his solid neck. “Could we do it another day? I’m going to see Norrie about the boathouse and I’ll ring David Murray on the way.”

Chapter Fourteen

Norrie Erskine resided in a grey-bricked, red-shuttered affair ten minutes further down the lane from Dad.

I paused on the grass verge and left a bit of a garbled message on David Murray’s mobile, explaining that I’d had a change of heart and would now accept Mac’s money to plough into a new business.