Page 91 of The Cottage in the Highlands

“But?” I asked.

“But she surprised me. I never knew for certain as she always denied doing it, but I think one day when I wasn’t around, she found the key to my studio – I kept it hidden – and had a snoop around. I’m not sure what she was looking for.”

“And did she manage to find anything?” asked Lily, curious.

Flynn senior raised his brows at the memory. “She spotted my Chandler signature in the bottom corner of one of my paintings and put two and two together, what with the speculation in the papers.”

“How did she react?” I asked him.

Flynn senior squinted up at Lily through the icy brightness fingering its way through the trees. “She was beside herself with joy. I’m surprised she could see past the pound signs dinging up in her eyes.”

He let out a hollow laugh. “If I thought she was planning on broadcasting that her husband was Chandler to the nation, I was very much mistaken. I underestimated even her devious nature.”

Flynn shook his head in a disbelieving way. “She soon realised that if she did that, the mystique around me would vanish and so would the value of my work.”

The breeze sifted through his generous flop of silvery hair. “So, she did the complete opposite and said nobody was to ever find out Chandler was me. It could ruin everything if they did.”

Flynn senior shot me an ironic smile. “Astrid saw me as a cash cow. Up until then, she always looked down on me as her struggling artist of a husband.”

He eyed Lily. “That was until her modelling work started to dry up and she realised that my alter ego could keep her in the manner to which she had become accustomed.”

His smile widened at her. “Haven’t you realised why I chose the name Chandler as my artist persona?”

Lily blushed, wrapping her arms around herself tighter. “I do now.”

“It’s also how I was able to afford to keep Merry Wood all these years,” explained Flynn senior. “If Chandler hadn’t taken off as he did, I don’t know what would have happened. My work has been selling so, so well. All that was missing from my life was you.”

The charged events unfolding around us meant I almost missed my phone ringing in my bag.

I reluctantly let go of Flynn’s hand to answer it. Part of me didn’t want to, I was so wrapped up in what was happening in front of us, revealing the truth and banishing the tangle of lies.

My face must have registered surprise when Athena’s name and number materialised on the screen.

“Who is it?” asked Flynn.

“My editor. I won’t be a second. Sorry about this.”

I wandered a few feet away while Flynn carried on observing the exchanges between his grandfather and Lily.

I was still trying to clear my head and unscramble all the painful secrets and revelations that Flynn senior was disclosing, when my editor’s voice came screeching down the phone at me at ninety miles per hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” gushed Athena into my ear, not giving me a chance to speak. “This is such wonderful news! The exclusive of the decade. My goodness, I can scarcely believe it! Well done you!”

I frowned down the line. What was she going on about? I had never heard her so animated. “Sorry? What wonderful news and what exclusive? I don’t understand.”

“We need to run with this as soon as possible,” she breathed, not pausing for air. “I’ll make sure we clear a couple of the other features to make way for it. I can stick the piece on female rally drivers and the article about Manuka honey in the next edition.”

Her throaty voice then switched from high-pitched, excited squeak to something far syrupier. “Now, I know we’ve had our disagreements, Leonie. I have to be honest here and say I was very disappointed when you upset Esther Drew and the debacle with Tilly Crabtree. Both most unnecessary.”

I opened and closed my mouth. The bloody cheek! “Sorry?”

Athena ploughed on, regardless. “But I have to say a huge congratulations to you. You really have excelled yourself with this story—”

“Athena,” I interrupted, struggling to keep the frustration and irritation out of my voice. “I’m sorry, but I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. What exclusive?”

Her tinkle of indulgent laughter annoyed me further. Had she taken something? Or maybe it was one of her long liquid lunches again.

“Chandler of course,” she rasped. “We now know who he is.”