Page 91 of A Secret Scottish Escape

I rummaged in my bag and attempted to retrieve a signal. There wasn’t one. So much for ringing one of the guys or Dad and asking for help.

“It’s quite a way back to the campsite, but I’ll try to help you as much as I can.”

Ed let out a long groan. “I can’t hobble back to the site in this state. Don’t you know anyone that might live round here? I thought you were all about community in this part of the world.”

I retrieved his sunglasses from the ground and thrust them towards him while balancing myself so that he could lean against me. “It’s a remote area.”

I shifted his weight and angled his right arm tighter around my neck. It felt so heavy and uncomfortable but I would have to endure.

Visions of the two of us blundering about all day in the woods made me want to cry out in frustration.

Then a noise startled me. It seemed to be coming from somewhere beyond the crude path we had been negotiating.

I listened carefully, hope blossoming. I realised it was Galen Waterfall, jangling like silver bells. “There is one person I know who stays in a cottage just beyond those trees.”

Oh, bloody hell.

The prospect of having to ask Mask for anything again made dread and resentment pool in my stomach. But what was the alternative? Stay here, trapped in this woodland, with a hobbling selfish bass-guitarist throwback from the 1970s?

I took a determined breath. “Come on. We can get help there.”

Chapter Forty-Three

Closing my ears to Ed’s incessant whimpering wasn’t easy, especially as he was leaning against me.

I guided him along, gripping onto the arm he had draped around my shoulders.

Fortunately, the unofficial woodland walk we were on wasn’t a steep one.

“Not far now,” I cajoled, fantasising about the bottle of still water languishing at the bottom of my bag. I was tempted to stop and give us a both a quick drink, but fought the temptation. Ed and I seemed to have developed a satisfactory if somewhat odd rhythm and were making steady progress that I was loath to interrupt.

At least it wasn’t raining. That would have topped events off perfectly.

Ed shuffled his uninjured left foot and I made sure he was supported under his arm. I took a weary breath. “Nearly there.”

He aimed a suspicious look at me, but his pale expression relaxed a little when we emerged, clammy and exhausted, onto the edge of the road.

Behind us, the woods were a sea of green plumed branches.

Galen Waterfall gushed down the rocks and I guided Ed over to the slick, glistening stones to splash our faces.

I cupped my hands and supped the water swilling against my fingers. Ed slumped against the rock face. “Thank you.”

I blinked at him.

“I mean, thank you for helping me.”

I gave a faint nod. “You’re welcome.”

I pointed across the quiet road to Coorie Cottage. “We can get help over there.”

Ed didn’t appear convinced. “Is there anyone home? All the blinds are closed.”

“Don’t worry about that. They always are.”

I dashed my wet hands down the front of my jeans. “Come on.”

Ed was dubious. “Do you know the person who lives there?”