Page 52 of A Secret Scottish Escape

I leaned against Dad’s kitchen top as he busied himself with fetching two mugs from the cupboard.

He had his broad back to me. “We need to have a DNA test.” He swung round. “I’ve been thinking about it all while you’ve been out, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want this cloud following us around.”

Hearing Dad say it confirmed what I had been thinking too, as I had stared into the sashaying waves of the loch. I couldn’t carry on as normal until this was resolved. It would be some unspoken immovable force between us. It would taint everything, even if we pretended that we could ignore it. “But what if it isn’t the result we hope it is?”

Dad set down the mugs and pulled me into a hug. “Whatever the result, you are my daughter. End of. But I can’t live with this question mark. Can you?”

I pulled back and shook my head. “The thought of finding out … well … you know…”

“I know.”

I straightened my back. “We’ll do the DNA test. You’re right. There’s no other way.”

I watched Dad fill the kettle with a gush of silvery water from the kitchen tap. “I went up to the loch and just sat there. It was so peaceful.” I prepared myself for his reaction. “I did a lot of thinking too, Dad, while I was up there.” My voice sounded disembodied, as though it didn’t belong to me. “And I wondered if you could do me a favour please.”

“Of course. What is it?”

I pressed my lips together and gathered myself. I knew what I was about to say would not be well received. I stole a breath. “I’d like you to suggest a reunion with Battalion, and for you to play on the opening night of The Conch Club.”

Dad’s thick brows dipped. He stood motionless. “Are you joking?”

I think he could tell by my solemn expression that I wasn’t.

“But why, love?”

“A variety of reasons. For us, for answers, to throw a sodding great curve ball at Tina, because Battalion was a great band.”

My dad looked even more like a big, broad bear in the settling dark. He switched on one of the kitchen under-cabinet lights “But sweetheart, what if it doesn’t achieve any of those things? Have you been listening to anything I’ve told you? What if Ed really is your father?”

I tilted my chin upwards and fought to keep my voice steady. “Maybe he is my biological father, but you will always be my dad.”

His quirky mouth sagged at the corners and it made my stomach sink to the floor. “Dad,” I repeated. “Dad, please do this for me. For us.” My eyes pleaded with his. “We can’t leave things like this. You said so yourself. That’s what Tina wants. She wants chaos. She wants us in the middle of another drama.”

Dad rubbed his chin. “I called her townhouse in London and their housekeeper said she arrived back an hour ago and then she and Ramon buggered off to Gatwick for some last-minute getaway to Italy.”

“See what I mean?” I said, following Dad into the cosy glow of his sitting room as he clutched our mugs of tea. “This is her all over. You might be prepared to let her get the upper hand, but I’m not.”

Dad stared back. “You mean we call her bluff?”

“Exactly. We do things our way, not hers. We do a DNA test and Battalion plays at The Conch Club on my opening night.”

My father rocked his head back and seemed to search his sitting room ceiling for inspiration. “So, this is your plan, is it? To reunite a group of quarrelling old rockers?”

“It’s a chance for us to move on, Dad,” I implored. I thought of my mother and my stomach clenched. “This will let Tina see that it doesn’t matter what she throws at us, we can deal with it.” One of Dad’s eyebrows shot up and I could see from the softening in his eyes that he was beginning to agree with me. “And that’s the name you’ve chosen for the boathouse, is it? The Conch Club?”

“Yep. Our shell-collecting sessions gave me the idea.”

Dad afforded me a small smile. “I like it. I like it a lot.” He sighed. “OK. You win. I’ll contact the guys first thing tomorrow. I can’t promise anything but…”

“That’s fine, Dad. Thank you. And I’ll order us a DNA kit.”

As I sat opposite him and took a pull of my tea, I was glad we were taking charge of the whole messy situation rather than allowing Tina to dictate the rules.

Dad cradled his mug in his hands. “So does this mean you’ve given up on trying to secure this Mask guy then?”

I nodded, thinking about the singer’s blank refusal to even consider my invitation. “I can safely say that’s a non-starter.”

Chapter Twenty-Four