Page 46 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

Before Xander could finish what he was saying, I hurried to my office and retrieved the two deckchairs Mum had left behind for me to use. I gestured for him to sit down.

Xander eyed his lime-green, black and daffodil-yellow striped affair as though it were about to take a sizeable chunk out of his leg. I concealed a smile as I sat down in mine. If I hadn’t known any better, I might have thought he had never sat in a deckchair before.

Xander dashed a hand over the top of his dark hair, careful not to aggravate the attractive bruise now popping up above his right brow. Was he that posh that he had never clapped eyes on a folding chair before? He was all legs in it.

“Well, it looks like we may have a positive lead in the hunt for more information about Ernest Telfer, through an arts contact of mine.”

I nodded, encouraging him to explain.

“And,” he continued, “although Saffy – Saffron Clements – isn’t from this area, she knew someone very well who was.”

I leant further forward in my daisy-studded, lemon-coloured chair. I attempted to read his expression, but all I received in return was a roll of the eyes.

“Good grief, Ms Harkness. I’d better tell you before you pass out.”

He leant forward too now, steepling his hands together. His chair let out an indignant creak. “Saffy’s great-grandfather was born and grew up near here, in Darroch. He was a librarian and was fascinated by local history. I assume that’s how she was aware of the work of Ernest Telfer.”

My optimism was growing. Perhaps we would be able to find out more about the letter, after all. “Well, I’m ashamed to say that although I am local, I don’t know much about Briar Glen’s history, other than the town was named after the blue briar rose that was said to grow around here.”

Xander North’s expression was clouded with cynicism. “Ah yes. The elusive blue flower. Saffron mentioned that.”

I frowned at him. “So you don’t believe in it?”

“Saffy did some digging around for me in her great-grandfather’s research and journals on Briar Glen. From what he wrote, he believed there was such a thing as this unusual blue shade of rose that grew around here, but I’m sceptical.”

Why didn’t that come as any great shock to me?

I folded my arms, feeling protective of the pretty little town where I was born and grew up. “Of course, you are entitled to your opinion, Mr North. I admit it could be a tale perpetuated to bring in the tourists, but even so … well, sometimes, it’s good to let your imagination run free and escape for a while.”

Xander eyed me from his deck chair. “Are you always so doe-eyed, Ms Harkness?”

Now it was my turn to cock an eyebrow. “And are you always so infuriating, Mr North?”

His mouth gave a momentary twitch. “Not always.”

I watched him rise out of the chair and stretch, as though he had been trapped in a mediaeval torture device for six hours. “Dependent on how busy you are with this place, I wondered if you would be interested in meeting Saffy Clements.”

“I thought you weren’t interested in finding out more about that letter.”

Light through the shop windows drizzled through Xander’s hair, lifting strands of deep red. “You’re right. I’m not. My interest is in the tea set.”

How could he be so dismissive of that letter?

Xander indicated the empty painted shelves running around the walls. “When is your stock arriving?”

“Thursday”

“So, you’re all organised and ahead of schedule?”

“Yes,” I answered, wondering where this was leading. “I’m just waiting for my dad to arrive to help me put up that painting. Why?”

Xander North strode towards The Cup That Cheers’ shop door, careful to avoid the dangling light fitting, and flicked it open. “Why don’t you call your dad and delay him for a little while? No time like the present to go and speak to Saffy, is there?”

Chapter Twenty-One

Saffron Clements’ ceramics studio was on Glasgow’s leafy south side in the basement of an old Edwardian solicitor’s office.

It was stately grey stone and had a set of sturdy steps leading down to it, with two thrusting ferns either side of a glossy black door. A ceramic plaque beside the large sash window proclaimed, Clements Ceramics.