Page 60 of A Secret Scottish Escape

With the rich perfume of Mask’s garden coiling around me, I rolled my eyes and took his wrist. “Yes, I can see that. Here.”

He eyed me curiously while I smeared some antiseptic on the cut. “Don’t worry, my hands are clean. I’ve just come out of the shower.”

Heat travelled up my neck when I realised what I’d just said. I was certain I saw the faintest flicker of amusement cross his mouth. I trained my eyes on Mask’s wrist, asking him to keep still while I peeled off the plaster and placed it over the cut.

“It didn’t require attention,” he protested again, “but thank you.”

I struggled to look at him, still feeling somewhat self-conscious after my throwaway ‘shower’ remark. “No problem.”

He jerked his dark head at my outfit. “Going out?”

I glanced down at my sparkly jeans and pink shirt and nodded.

There was a lock of crisp black hair that had escaped from under his hood and which was now flopping forwards onto his forehead.

He moved closer to me. It was just enough to make me shrivel a little under his fixed gaze.

“So, as I was saying, I just dropped by to say thank you for your CDs. That was very thoughtful of you.”

He shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

I fiddled with my watch strap as the sun above our heads dipped behind the tangle of trees. “I listened to a couple of tracks on my way here. Your lyrics are wonderful.”

His clenched jaw softened a margin. “Thank you.” His accent was melodic.

“I’m impressed you found my address.”

Mask folded his arms. “I have my ways.”

The silence was palpable. “Right,” I exclaimed, clapping my hands together, “I’d better be off.”

For some inexplicable reason, I started to walk backwards towards my car. “Thank you again for the CDs. They are definitely on the playlist for opening night.”

I realised I must have looked like I had some sort of medical condition and drew up. “You’re more than welcome to come along. Barring any major mishaps, it looks like opening night is going to be Saturday 29th August.”

Mask flicked me a look. “I don’t think so, but thank you very much anyway for the invitation.” Then he nodded at my outfit. “Pink to make the boys wink.”

It took me a few moments to register. “Oh yes. I’m just meeting up with my dad and the rest of his band mates for something to eat. It’s a reunion kind of thing.”

He pushed his hands into the pockets of his combats. “Your dad’s a musician?”

“He was. He played the drums in a fairly successful Seventies’ rock band, called Battalion.”

Mask inclined his head. “Didn’t they have a couple of top twenty hits back in the day?”

“That’s right. They did pretty well for a while and then kids and wives came along and things took a bit of a dive for them.”

“A reunion, eh? Should be fun.”

Not when I’ve got to confront the chance that my father may not be my father, but the band’s bass guitarist instead.

I plastered on a strained smile. “That’s one word for it.”

His eyes narrowed behind his black mask.

“Anyway, I had better be off. Bye then, and thanks again.”

I walked quickly towards the car, recalling the red lightning flash down the side of Mask’s right cheek that I had accidentally seen when I arrived.