Page 86 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

‘Anyway,’ carried on Mum, flapping her duster. ‘It would take someone with not a lot of common sense to come to a small town like Craig Brae and start throwing their weight around. Can you imagine Mr Ferns?!’

I laughed at the thought of our bullish postmaster. ‘He would be in his element.’

‘Exactly!’

Mum planted her hands on her hips. ‘Right. Seeing as there’s a quiet spell at the minute, I’m putting the kettle on.’

‘Sounds good to me.’

I shrugged off my coat and proceeded to tidy up the shelf under the counter, while Orla vanished to finish parcelling up a stock of garish Christmas candy canes that lit up and shouted, ‘Season’s Greetings!’ in a nasally tone.

I had no idea why Vivian had ordered a job lot of them in the first place. The sales rep had been a bit of charmer, mind you. We were lucky if we had sold three.

It was as I finished throwing away some old post-it pads and a couple of broken pencils, that I glanced out of the shop window.

A handsome, older man was standing a few feet away, his long herringbone coat collar turned up. I didn’t think too much of it and assumed he was waiting for someone. It was when I turned and glanced out of the window again a few moments later that I realised he was still loitering there, staring into the shop – and at me.

I took in his black trilby tipped down to shadow a lot of his face and the fleeting glimpse of his proud features.

After glancing down towards the office where Mum was bustling around with the kettle, I darted out from behind the counter and moved towards the window to get a closer look.

We both looked at one another and then, upon realising I’d spotted him watching me, the man dropped his head deeper into the collar of his coat, placed one hand on top of his hat and took off down the street.

I followed, clattering out of the shop door.

The bell above the door went wild. ‘Lottie. Lottie? Are you all right? What is it?’ called Mum after me, but I was too preoccupied.

I bounded out onto the pavement and peered down the street in both directions. The bodies of other shoppers weaved in and out, but there was no sign of the man who had been watching me.

I turned and went back into Christmas Crackers.

‘Why did you dash out like that? Are you all right?’

Mum was lingering in the office doorway, clutching the teapot. I didn’t want to worry her and anyway, it was most likely just a day-tripper being nosey, rather than an investigative journalist. Also, if I mentioned I was concerned someone might have been watching me or the shop, she would fret about it.

I plastered on a casual smile. ‘Oh, I thought I saw Kim walking past and I was going to say hi.’

‘And did you?’

‘Did I what?’

‘Did you see Kim? Was it her?’

‘No, just someone who looked a bit like her.’

Mum gave me an odd look. ‘Right.’ She observed me for a few more moments, before returning into the office to make us a brew.

* * *

I didn’t sleep at all well that night.

I kept replaying Kim’s comments about this Jason Driscoll character asking her myriad questions about Blake, and then my thoughts harped back to the man in the black trilby outside Christmas Crackers.

Oh, this is ridiculous, I attempted to convince myself. My imagination was all fired up and going into overdrive! The questions this Jason Driscoll was asking could be nothing. Maybe he was a journalist, but his visit was an innocent one? Maybe he was going to write a review of the cabins?

As for the man hovering outside the shop, he might have just been checking out the opposition. Everyone knew that Ronaldo’s had bought the lease. Perhaps he was from a rival hospitality chain?

As I lay there, I made constant efforts to stem my concern about this Jason Driscoll.