Page 50 of A Secret Scottish Escape

“And that was why Ed returned to the Battalion line-up?”

Dad’s mouth flatlined. “Yep. I could understand it from a music point of view, but personally … well … I struggled with the decision.”

I thought of the rest of Dad’s band members. A dark thought hit me. “Did any of the other guys in the band know about Mum and Ed?”

Dad was emphatic as he stared across at me, a sudden breeze lifting the layers of his hair. “No. I never told them about my suspicions. It really would have all kicked off then.” He almost smiled at the memory. “We were a volatile bunch as it was; no need to throw that into the mix.”

The fragmented picture in my head was almost complete now. No wonder my dad was so resistant to the band performing for me. He didn’t want to see Ed Stockton.

I twisted my amber and jade ring around and around my finger.

“But even if it is true what your mother said – that I might not be your biological father – you are my daughter Layla, and you always will be.”

A chill ran through me. I couldn’t even begin to process that idea. This wasn’t good enough for me. “Ring her,” I ordered. “I want you to ring Tina. I need to speak to her.”

“Layla…” Dad stopped when he saw my hard expression. “OK.”

I followed him back inside the house and I watched him pull up my mother’s number on his mobile. I could make out the faint ring from the other end. It seemed to go on for an eternity. “She’s not answering.”

“Well, try The Linear then.”

I fetched my phone out of my back pocket and pulled up the hotel’s details on social media.

My chest heaved when the receptionist informed me that my mother had checked out and left about ten minutes previously.

I slammed my phone down on Dad’s mahogany hall table. “She’s gone.”

Then I picked it back up and stuffed it in my pocket. I needed to get away. My head was swimming against a tide that felt like it was pulling me under.

“Layla, what are you doing? Where are you going?”

He started down the steps after me towards my car. “You are in no fit state to drive.”

“I need to think, Dad.”

The word tasted differently in my mouth as I said it to him – and I hated my mother for that. I dashed a hand down my face. “I’ll give you a call later.”

I swung my car automatically down the sunlit lane. My insides were like an out-of-control washing machine. I felt as though I didn’t recognise myself. The eyes staring back at me from the rear-view mirror were panicked.

I pulled into the parking lot by the boathouse and jerked up my handbrake far harder than I meant to.

After resting my forehead on the steering wheel for a few moments, I summoned up enough energy to get out of my car and trample up to the boathouse.

The Conch Club.

Its new name circled around my mind, along with Tina’s poisonous revelation that my father might not be Harry, but the band’s bloody bass player!

I forced one foot in front of the other until I was at the woodchip-strewn porch.

Alec and his colleagues had left for the day and The Conch Club let out an intermittent series of creaks.

I ambled down the jetty and sank onto the end of it. The Loch Harris waters billowed down below, chilly and navy blue, despite it being June.

And it was then that I allowed the fear and pain out. A frustrated sob crawled out of the base of my throat. Was this going to be another lie I hadn’t known about, but that I was going to have to deal with?

She’s lying, hissed an insistent voice. She always does.

But what if she didn’t really know who my real father was between Harry and Ed? What if Harry wasn’t my dad after all?