Page 54 of A Secret Scottish Escape

The Scottish weather delivered frequent pattering rain, followed by shards of buttery sunshine.

A modest coach party arrived at Loch Harris, well prepared for the unpredictable climate. They were all decked out in light waterproofs and sturdy walking boots.

I had been standing out on the front steps of the boathouse, huddled in my hooded jacket and chatting to Rory, my painter and decorator, when the lone, metallic coach creaked into the picnic area and disgorged its passengers.

I recognised Stuart, the coach driver, as one of Dad’s old school friends.

He ambled over, hitching the hood up on his ski jacket. “It had to be bloody pissing down, today of all days.”

I indicated the tourists, who were clutching their cameras and pointing at the loch and the spiky scenery that cradled it. “Looks like you’ll be kept busy today.”

Stuart pulled a face. “It makes a change. Things have been very quiet.” Then he smiled at the boathouse, with its door ajar and the glow of pale light emanating out. “Let’s hope your new venture brings the punters back to Loch Harris in their droves.”

One of Rory’s dark brows shot up. “No pressure then, eh, Layla?”

I opened my mouth to reply but my attention was drawn to the sight of my dad striding along the shale path. He offered Rory and Stuart a distracted greeting. “Could I have a quick word please, Layla?”

I excused myself to Rory who darted back inside the boathouse with the colour chart I’d marked up for him, and Stuart marched off to herd his tourists together.

I examined my dad’s pensive expression and my stomach lurched. “What is it? Oh God, what’s Tina done now?”

Dad shook his head. “It’s nothing to do with your mother this time. Well, in a way, that isn’t exactly true.”

I steered Dad past the picnic area where the tired grey assortment of benches and tables were stained with the latest falls of rain.

“Dad?”

“I did what you wanted,” he offered after a pause. “I managed to get hold of the four other guys in Battalion.”

My heart stuttered in my chest. This was what I wanted my dad to do. I’d pleaded with him. I had assured him that we needed to know and that the best thing to do would be to call Tina’s bluff.

And yet now…

I buried an apprehensive swallow. “All of them? Even Ed?”

Dad nodded, an odd expression in his eyes.

“What now?”

“I explained about The Conch Club and that you were keen for Battalion to play on opening night.”

I tapered my hands up and down the sleeves of my jacket. “I take it you didn’t say anything to Ed Stockton about me?”

Dad’s frown gave me the answer. “Of course not, Layla. Ed has never mentioned anything in the years I’ve known him and he certainly didn’t say anything when I spoke to him yesterday.”

He lowered his voice. “The guy obviously doesn’t have a clue about what Tina has been saying.”

I glanced up at the steely sky, smudged with the branches of trees. “So what was the outcome?”

Dad pushed his hands into the pockets of his olive-green combats. “All four of them agreed to play with me at your opening night.”

Frissons of anticipation and trepidation rocketed through me. “And?” I pushed.

“They’re all arriving this Friday in Loch Harris for the weekend. Mikey suggested we turn it into some sort of band reunion.”

I fell silent, as if suddenly remembering what was sitting in my jacket pocket. I blinked up at Dad before reaching in and tugging out the blue and white package. “It arrived this morning.”

He flicked a concerned expression at the DNA kit and then at me. “It’s all happening, isn’t it?”