Page 57 of A Secret Scottish Escape

I couldn’t.

I picked up my pace to return to Dad.

I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Ed Stockton, for obvious reasons, but Dad insisted I meet up with him and the rest of the Battalion guys on Friday evening for a bite to eat in the other of the two pubs in Loch Harris, The Merry Maid.

Rory had completed his decorating in the boathouse and it was now a sea of peacock-blue and mint-green walls, with panels of salt grey behind the counter.

I loved it.

I locked up and clambered wearily into my car to head back to the cottage to snatch a quick shower and change.

My heart stuttered in my chest at the thought of seeing Ed. I hadn’t laid eyes on the man since my twenty-first birthday bash, down by the loch side. It had been a summer’s night affair, with a barbeque, flickering tealights, and a ceilidh band.

Oh, this was ridiculous! I was making far too many assumptions. The whole thing could be one giant fabricated lie by my attention-seeking mother.

I pictured Ed at the party eight years ago, smiling at something my father had said as he clutched a glistening bottle of beer. He seemed a decent enough man, but he wasn’t the charismatic scene-stealer my dad was.

Looking at the situation from Ed’s point of view, it was going to be one a hell of a shock for him to find out that he possibly had a twenty-nine-year-old daughter. The word “possibly” drifted around my head. I clung onto that hope.

As I patted on some eyeshadow, I took a series of deep breaths. I didn’t really know Ed. He had never been as open and gregarious as the other guys. But thinking of him in Dad’s photos from all those years ago, when Battalion was playing lots of gigs, I pictured his tight curls and denim waistcoats; it made him morph into someone else. This man, whether I liked it or not, might have a more major role in my life.

That was, if he really was my biological father. Even if he was, maybe he wouldn’t be interested in having a grown-up daughter.

I frowned at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. Ed and his wife Karen had a couple of grown-up sons. If this was true and Ed was my real dad, what would they think of it all?

I dabbed on some of my favourite lipstick and my shoulders dropped. I had to try and clear my head a bit.

I was just pulling some tendrils around my face when I thought I could hear the faint thrum of a car engine from somewhere outside.

I snatched up my jacket and straw bag from the top of my bed and went down the hall to fetch my leather ankle boots.

I noticed a package was lodged halfway through my letter box.

It was a small padded brown envelope.

I darted to the right and into my spare room. I peered out of the window, but there was no sign of anyone there. Whoever it was appeared to have already gone.

I moved to the front door and eased the envelope carefully out of the letter box. There was nothing written on it. I gave the envelope a curious squeeze. It felt bulky and angular.

I eased open the flap of the envelope which had been sealed with brown tape, and slid out the contents.

My eyes widened.

Wow. What had made him do that? I hadn’t expected that at all.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Inside the envelope were two CDs in plastic cases.

There were no sleeves; only a Post-it note stuck to the inside of the first, which said:

Exclusive new songs for you to play at The Conch Club.

No appearance but hope this is at least a compromise.

Good luck with it all.

M.