Page 67 of A Secret Scottish Escape

I smiled after him as he stalked back towards the pub entrance. I wound down my car window. “Give me a ring later if you want a lift home.”

Dad flapped my offer away. As he opened the door, a burst of raucous laughter shot out. “We’ll get a taxi.”

My stomach delivered a forward roll. “When will you talk to Ed?”

“Tomorrow.”

“I want to be there, if that’s OK.”

He considered for a moment. “Of course you do. I’ll get you to come round before we speak to him.”

And then, with a small wave, he disappeared back inside.

I’d only just wrapped myself up in my towelling dressing gown and pyjamas and put the kettle on to make an indulgent hot chocolate, when my eyes were drawn to my calendar hanging on the opposite kitchen wall.

Below June’s picture of a sun-drenched antique bookshop in Edinburgh, was a small, heart-shaped motif beside the 29th.

A sinking sensation overcame me. The anniversary of when Mac and I had first met.

I had been so preoccupied with The Conch Club and brooding about Ed that the date had been stealthily creeping up on me and I’d failed to notice it until now.

I fought to ignore memories of Mac and me flirting in the restaurant as I tried to interview him. I recalled my attempts to ask him questions about his novels being met with persistent demands for my phone number and that lopsided grin of his.

I sloshed hot water from the kettle into my mug and stirred it hard. Then I shuffled into the sitting room.

Snatching up my mobile from my coffee table, I pulled up Faith’s number. I knew I should have confided in my best friend much sooner about Ed Stockton, but I had been struggling to get my head around it myself.

I was desperate to unload my worries. Faith answered and had barely uttered a word before I launched into my story about Mum’s revelation.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me about all this before?” gasped Faith into my ear, once I’d poured my heart out to her. “Layla, best friends tell each other everything – or at least I thought they did.”

“They do,” I insisted. “I always have done, but this came out of nowhere.”

I played with the belt of my dressing gown. “This will sound stupid, but I thought that if I didn’t speak about it, then it might not really happen.”

Faith was her usual pragmatic character. “I mean, you haven’t had the DNA test results yet, so I wouldn’t go jumping to conclusions. And even if it does turn out that Ed is your biological father, Harry will always be your dad. When are you due to receive the test results?”

“A few weeks, so not long in the scheme of things, although it feels like forever at the moment.” I waggled my toes in their grey and white fluffy socks. “For a brief moment, there was a part of me that didn’t want to know, but looking back on it now, I don’t think Dad and I had much choice. It would have been hanging around us both and tainting everything.”

“And Ed,” she ventured. “Does he know that there’s a chance you might be his daughter?”

“Apparently not. He’s staying with Dad till Sunday, so Dad said he’s going to discuss it with him tomorrow and I’ve said I want to be there.”

There were more supportive murmurings from Faith, and then I told her about Mask.

“So all those rumours swirling around here are true then?” she breathed. “Wow.”

“Yes, but even though he was bloody rude to me tonight, please don’t spread it around that he’s moved here, otherwise we’ll be overrun with hormonal teenage girls.” I smiled down the phone at Faith. “Can you imagine the likes of Norrie and Clem if Loch Harris had groupies to contend with, as well as city types rambling everywhere?”

Faith laughed and promised me she wouldn’t say anything. “This Mask sounds a right complex character, though. One minute he’s giving you exclusive songs for your music venue and the next he’s telling you to bugger off.” She made a grunting noise. “Typical bloody artist. Moody and unpredictable.”

“He was probably annoyed that I saw him … without his mask.”

She dropped her voice, even though we were both alone in our respective houses. “What does he look like?”

“He has a scar on his cheek and it’s clear he was horrified when he realised I’d happened to see it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t give him a second thought,” she sniffed. “Disturbance or no disturbance, he shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. If he wants to go all Phantom of the Opera up there, let him get on with it.”