Page 39 of A Secret Scottish Escape

Perhaps I was interfering, but it was either that or do nothing and watch her being miserable. I knew that wasn’t an option.

I streaked down the country lane in my car, past Dad’s house, with enthusiasm ringing in my ears. I switched on the radio to try and distract myself. This was the most energised I had felt in a long time. Losing Mac in the way that I had had been like having a mortar bomb lobbed into my world.

I tried to clear my mind as I negotiated the twists and bumps that snaked up and around the woodland and swooping hillsides.

Loch Harris was spread out like a dazzling mirror as I swept right and up towards the boathouse.

I parked in the tourist picnic area and cut across the grass. Daisies popped around my feet like mini rays of sunshine and the trees shimmered with the remnants of rain.

I breathed in, savouring the zingy scent of the damp undergrowth. I could hear faint voices travelling from the boathouse and, as I emerged from the trees, the thumping and banging of hammers became louder.

Alec’s transit van bearing the name of his business, Tip Top Carpentry, was parked to the left of the boathouse with its rear doors gaping open. The sound of a crackling radio emerged from somewhere inside.

I dashed up the porch steps, stopping for a moment to marvel at the view. I knew I would never grow tired of it.

“Hi Alec,” I yelled, sticking my head round the door. I had to raise my voice over the sound of thumping and the disco beat thudding from their radio. “You’ve hit the ground running then?”

Alec rose up from where he was crouching down by one of the skirting boards. “Morning, Layla. Bloody hell, you’re up and about early.”

I smiled over at two of his employees, young lads in combats, who were rummaging around in a huge iron toolbox. “The same can be said for you.” I took a step forwards. “I don’t suppose you could give me Heather’s mobile number please?”

Alec gave a nod of his shiny, balding head. “Course I can.”

I hesitated for a moment, before deciding that I had to tell him why. “It’s just I need to pick Heather’s brains about that musician – the guy who calls himself Mask.”

Alec was halfway to tugging his mobile out of his dungarees. He gave me a little frown. “Oh?”

“I’m going to write an article about him for a music mag and as she seems to be so enthusiastic about him…”

I tried to conceal the guilty flush in my cheeks. I couldn’t tell Alec the real reason why. If I revealed that I was hoping to persuade this musician to appear here when we opened, it would be spread around Loch Harris faster than a bout of seasonal flu.

Alec eyed me for a moment. “It’s only she’s nuts over this guy as it is, and I don’t mean to sound like a Victorian dad, but if she applied half as much energy to her studies right now as she does mooning over this bloke’s music…”

I raised one hand. “I won’t distract her for too long. I promise.” I gave a shrug. “I could even have a little chat with her, if you like. About her studies.”

Alec smiled and nodded. He reeled off Heather’s mobile number. “That would be great, Layla. She’ll no doubt take more notice of you than her old fart of a father.”

I laughed and jabbed Heather’s number into my phone. “Thanks. And you’re not an old fart.”

Alec didn’t appear convinced. “Since Pam and I split up, it’s been a case of good cop, bad cop, and I think you can guess which I am.”

He returned to work and I hovered for a few moments longer, watching the three men angling planks of bleached wood. The rich scent of chippings was hazy and homely.

Then the enormity of what I was undertaking decided to punch me in the ribs. I stared around at the empty space, with its floorboards, Formica counter, and shards of Loch Harris peeping in through the windows. I headed out, back down the boathouse steps, taking a moment to compose myself. Of course, I could do this. This was just a wobble.

I drew in a big breath of air and attempted to distract myself by finding a spot with a good enough mobile signal to ring Heather.

Her light, interested voice drifted into my ear and, after we had exchanged a few pleasantries, I explained why I was calling, while Loch Harris murmured nearby.

I knew it would take a couple of days for my right ear to recover from her thrilled shriek.

I left behind the intermittent banging, thumping, and hammering over the crackle of the portable radio and headed away from the boathouse, towards the Loch Harris Forestry Commission cabin on the other side of the water.

I wasn’t sure what I would say to him – assuming he was even working that morning. I’d already decided that if it turned out I’d wasted a trip and he had the day off, I’d simply leave a short note for him with one of his work mates, explaining who I was and asking him to ring me.

I scrambled around in my head as I drove there, attempting to piece together something coherent but persuasive that I could say to him about Faith.

I had to get across that she did really like him but she was used to being in control of situations and, off the record, she was resisting getting involved with him because she had found herself attracted to him so quickly.