Page 16 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

That evening, I pulled together my dinner, which ended up consisting of plaice, mashed potato, broccoli and sweetcorn.

Once I’d cleared up, I nestled onto my sofa, arranged my laptop on the occasional table in front of me and found myself typing Zach Stern into the search engine.

The events from earlier had rattled me. What had Zach Stern been talking about? What was Ezra supposed to have done?

I waited and the screen rippled.

A couple of images of Zach appeared. One was a moody, black-and-white head and shoulders shot of him in a fitted white shirt that was straining across his broad chest. He was staring down into the camera.

Another was of him looking like James Bond in a dinner suit, clasping an impressive, spikey designed journalism award.

I scrolled down further.

There was a biography of staff on the Stargazer magazine website, which included Zach’s.

Under the heading, Zach Stern, Senior Investigative Reporter, was his profile:

Stargazer is delighted to welcome acclaimed journalist Zach Stern to our team.

Zach, who has worked for such prestigious titles as the New York Daily, the London Informer and the Daily Herald, will bring you all the sensational exclusives, in his own inimitable style.

Zach, who was born in the St John’s Wood area of London and studied journalism at Kingston University, says he always wanted to be a reporter, because he wanted to give people who didn’t have a voice a chance to be heard.

When not reporting for Stargazer, Zach enjoys running, working out, reading James Patterson novels, and listening to rock music.

I examined the accompanying photo of Zach again, all arched dark brows and a serious, set mouth.

I clicked away from the magazine website and returned to trawling through a few more articles about him. Phrases like “Recognised for his tireless dedication to investigative journalism; Lauded reporter; Respected journalist with a thirst for a good story; Zach Stern’s relentless fight to get to the truth, earnt him the prestigious Investigative Journalist of the Year Award in 2021” tumbled past my eyes.

My frown deepened as I read on. That was strange. What was an accomplished journalist like Zach Stern doing working for a gossip magazine like Stargazer? He had a glut of journalistic accolades and had netted so many scoops and yet, here he was, on one of the country’s most sensationalist celebrity gossip magazines. It didn’t seem to make sense.

It would be like seeing King Charles at a Slayer concert.

I scanned some other random articles about Zach. He’d covered everything from political wrongdoings with MPs’ expenses to the American elections. I then returned to the Stargazer website, which was bragging on the front cover of their latest issue that they had an exclusive on a reality TV star who’d undergone her fourth boob job in so many months. They were also boasting about their double-page spread on the new home of a famous premier footballer and his girlfriend, which included shots of their lavish zebra-print carpet and gold kitchen taps.

Having seen enough, I switched off my laptop and closed the lid.

Well, whatever his reasons for going to work at Stargazer, I knew I had to be careful. Zach had already remarked that I looked familiar. I swallowed hard at the memory.

Those bloody society columns!

My thoughts shifted to Ezra.

I would have to warn him that a journalist was lurking around in search of him. It was the least I could do.

In the meantime, I would just have to ensure I stayed one step ahead of Zach Stern – my settled life here in Heather Moore and the future of Flower Power could depend on it.

I was about to return my laptop to the kitchen table, but my fingers refused to budge. They hovered on the closed lid. It was thinking about Stargazer that had dragged everything back up again.

I watched as my hands rested on the charcoal laptop lid, before flipping it back up and daring me to switch it on again.

I always said I wouldn’t and that I didn’t want to. Yet the urge to look back and see how far I’d come was irresistible. It felt as though the tips of my fingers were itching.

I knew it wouldn’t achieve much. In fact, it wouldn’t achieve anything. It would just stir up moments and memories that I’d pushed away; recollections that filled me with burning regret.

But looking at that magazine online had triggered morbid curiosity in me again.

My fingers shifted to the keyboard until I found myself pulling up newspaper images of Declan and me announcing our engagement. I was gazing up at him like a rescued puppy, flashing my sapphire engagement ring, but he was too busy exposing his canines to the press photographer.