Page 70 of A Secret Scottish Escape

Ed was staring off into the middle distance, his attention focused on Dad’s sitting room wall. “Karen and the boys…”

“Is that all you can say?” barked Dad, the pain swimming in his stare. “Layla is the one you should be thinking about right now.”

I stared down at my dad.

“And you betrayed me too, Ed,” he managed. “You betrayed a friend.”

We both blinked as Ed jumped up from his chair, panic about the situation he could be facing catching up with him. “Look, I’m not denying we had a bit of a thing, but there’s no way I could be your dad.”

He darted into the hallway where his battered sports bag was sitting. “I’m sorry, mate. I really am. And Layla…”

His raspy voice tailed off as he slung his holdall over his right shoulder.

“Where the hell are you going, Ed?” asked Dad. “You can’t just up and walk off, not after all this.”

Ed marched off down Dad’s hallway and yanked open the front door. “I don’t need to know anything. It happened thirty years ago.”

“But you can’t just walk off like this,” repeated Dad, running out of the door and positioning himself in front of Ed, barring his way. He gestured over to me. “I promised Layla that Battalion would play at the opening night of The Conch Club next month.”

Ed frowned. “What’s done is done.”

Panic and anger swelled within me as I watched Ed’s gangly figure head out of Dad’s gate and begin the short walk down the country lane to the village. “That’s right, Ed,” I called, trying to stem the hurt in my voice. “Just go and leave Harry to pick up the pieces. You let him down once and you’re doing it again.”

Dad shot out his hand and gave my arm a squeeze. “Let him go, love.”

Surprise overtook me as Ed stopped on the other side of the sunlit hedge.

“Can’t you at least be professional about the band?”

Ed remained standing in the lane, self-conscious and awkward.

Dad lifted his hands and let them fall back down by his sides. “I agree. If the DNA test declares you as Layla’s biological father, then what you do about that is up to you. Just don’t let her down by dropping out of Battalion before her opening night.”

Dad’s voice took on a sharper edge as it travelled across his garden. “It’s the least you can do for her.”

Ed’s shoulders slumped.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

We watched him stride off down the lane.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Lunch was a sombre affair for Dad and me.

I heated up a goat’s cheese and tomato quiche he had stashed in his freezer, while Dad prepared some salad. We made a gallant effort to eat it, but after the dramatic events that had taken place with Ed earlier that morning, we realised we weren’t hungry.

“I can’t believe you’re being so reasonable about all this, Dad.”

He lowered his fork and surveyed me from across the kitchen table. “What can I do, love? Shout at him? Give Ed a broken nose? It happened thirty years ago. What would that achieve now?”

He sat back for a moment. “Don’t get me wrong. When your mother told me that you might not be mine, I felt like wringing both their necks.”

Dad speared some lettuce.

“Tina always managed to cover her lies well.” Dad gave a brief, wry smile. “Your mother also had a very low boredom threshold.”

“I had noticed.”