Page 28 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

“Not at all,” I insisted. “Believe me, you’re the one doing me the favour.”

I gave him a note of my email address and, as Ewan moved to leave, he promised to get a few sketches to me by the end of the week.

He gave his dad a mock salute on the way out, almost colliding with an older woman coming in.

Cradling a sealed cardboard box in her arms, she was wearing an expensive-looking tailored burgundy belted coat and possessed a head of wavy, short, silver hair.

“Is this the place?” she asked Ewan with a hint of desperation. “Is this the new crockery shop?”

Ewan blinked at her. “Er … yes … well, it will be.”

She barged past Ewan, who pulled a face at her as he wandered off. She appraised me from head to toe with an odd look. “Are you the owner of this shop?”

“Yes, but…”

Before I knew what was happening, the woman thrust the box towards me. It gave an indignant rattle. “Here, I don’t want this. Please. I’m sure someone will take it, though.”

I stared down at the sealed cardboard box as I took it from her. “Sorry, Madam, but what is in here?”

“Well, it’s not a luxury cruise liner!”

From behind me, Ally and Finn paused mid-decorating, to witness more of our exchange.

I placed the heavy box on a nearby fold-out camping table which Mum had left for me to use while the counter and shelves were out of action.

As I began to open the box, the older woman’s tight features seized up further. Then, with a flap of her coat, she wrapped her arms around herself and made for the door.

“Excuse me?” I called, abandoning the box. “Hang on a second. Who are you? I don’t know your name.”

Whoever she was, she wasn’t prepared to hang around and make polite conversation. She shot out of the shop.

With the sound of Ally and Finn’s radio pumping out behind me, I hurried into the sun-streaked main street after her. “Excuse me? Wait. Please stop!”

I whipped my head left and right, but the woman had vanished.

I retreated into the shop, frustrated.

“Where did she go?” asked Ally from under his shaggy fringe.

“No idea. She didn’t even leave her name. She just dumped this box and vanished.”

Finn loaded up his brush again with paint. “Maybe whatever is in that box has fallen off the back of a lorry.”

Ally frowned over at him. “Did she look like someone who would handle stolen goods?”

Finn tapped the side of his regal nose. “You never can tell, mate. You never can tell.”

I turned my attention back to the partially open box. Whatever it was, the woman had been very keen to offload it.

I peeled away the Sellotape and unfurled the flaps of the box. The action reminded me of when I was at Gran’s and discovered her haul of beautiful crockery in the cupboard under the stairs.

I slid one hand into the depths of the box and eased apart sheets of yellowing old newspaper. They crinkled and rustled against my fingers. Underneath the layers of newspaper was a battered old case in cream leather, with a gold clasp fastening. It smelt of mothballs and lavender.

What on earth was in here? Well, seeing as the fleeing woman had asked if this was the new crockery shop, I could hazard a guess. But why had she been so keen to rid herself of whatever was in this leather case? And why wasn’t she interested in selling it or leaving contact details? I pictured her again, flapping out of the shop in her expensive-looking coat. She couldn’t get away fast enough. Whatever it was, she had been keen to put as much distance between her and this as she could.

Conscious of the delicate condition the contents inside might be in, I slid both my arms underneath the case to ease it out of where it was nestled in the box.

“Here,” insisted Ally, marching over the canvas floor sheets in his work boots. “Let me give you a hand.”