Page 37 of A Secret Scottish Escape

As he climbed into the driving seat, he swung round to look back at me over his shoulder. “According to local gossip, he’s bought old Tavish McArthur’s place.”

Dad’s jaw dropped. “Not that dilapidated cottage up by Galen Waterfall?”

“The very one.”

Dad’s eyebrows arched. “Bloody hell! No disrespect to old Tavish, God rest his soul, but that back garden of his was like something out of a Hammer Horror movie. I offered the stubborn old bugger a hand to get it into some sort of order on more than one occasion, but he wasn’t having any of it.”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, it could give Glasgow Botanic Gardens a run for its money now.”

Dad laughed. “You are joking.”

Alec was earnest. “I’m serious, mate. One of my contacts in the plumbing trade was passing by Coorie Cottage the other night. He said the garden was all brightly coloured flowers and swaying trees. Like an art gallery painting, was his actual words.”

He lifted one hand. “Cheerio now!”

A kernel of an idea was tugging at me as we watched him leave.

As soon as Alec had melted into the distance, I spoke to Dad, my enthusiasm firing on all cylinders. “I’ve got to speak to Heather about this musician. If we could get someone edgy like him on opening night…”

Dad looked pessimistic. “Darling, didn’t you hear what Alec just said? The guy wears a mask! He obviously doesn’t want to be identified, so I don’t think the idea of appearing in front of an audience is going to go down well.”

I listened as Dad spoke again. “And if the rumours are true and he has bought the old McArthur place, that’s about as secluded as you can get. Maybe that’s why he’s moved here, to get a bit of peace.”

I frowned, keen to remain optimistic. “But he might consider it, because it’s a small, new venue close to where he owns a house. It would be a chance to get to know the local community…” A slow grin spread across my face. “I’ve got to at least try.”

Images of blazing publicity articles and news stories flashed in front of me. “I’ll do some research about this guy on my own and then see if Heather wants to help me.”

A frisson of excitement bolted up my back. I was used to interviewing and dealing with awkward characters. How hard could it be?

Chapter Eighteen

I laced my fingers together behind my head and slumped back against the sofa in frustration.

Good grief! This Mask character was every bit as elusive as the abominable snowman.

I tapped at my laptop keyboard and scrolled down again, but the screen only delivered the same limited information about him; that he’d risen from obscurity to become this emerging singer/songwriter sensation but nobody knew anything about him or his true identity, other than the fact that he was Australian.

There wasn’t even a proper photograph of him anywhere on social media. The same images kept reappearing of a tall figure with his features disguised by a baggy, dark hood and a black masquerade mask.

I picked up my mug of tea and took a gulp. He really was to be congratulated. In this day and age, goodness knows how he was managing to stay so elusive. He must have one hell of a PR and management team.

I trawled through several fan discussion boards about him, which ranged from speculation that he was the son of some earl and desperately trying to revolt against his aristocratic family, to the theory that he wasn’t just one person but a band of disaffected musicians who were seeking revenge on the record industry that had rejected them.

Recalling what Alec had said about him earlier in the day, I went onto YouTube and entered “Mask Music” in the search field.

A string of still pictures of only his eyes, staring fixedly out from behind his mask, popped up. They were a deep, dark brown.

I tapped on one of his songs called ‘Deliverance’. All at once, my cottage was filled with the sound of a soulful electric guitar. It was slow at first, before suddenly launching into a faster tempo.

Then his deep, smoky voice layered over the top of it.

I sank back, drinking in the painful inflections in his vocals. Alec was right. He was a wonderful singer.

When the song slid to an end, I jumped forwards, eager to listen to another one.

I clicked on another of his tracks at random, called ‘All Shadows’ and was treated to a softer melody this time, all about dreams.

There was no denying this Mask was a very talented and unique musician.