Page 47 of A Scottish Highland Hideaway

People were gearing up for the festive season, darting from shop to shop to buy gifts and purchasing poinsettias, as well as my artificial flower and candle table arrangements.

Rowan, Amber, and I were going through each day in a hectic blur, ensuring Christmas wreath orders and bouquets were in hand.

The Heather Moore Christmas lights were now in situ, glowing down onto the slick roofs and pavements and the local shops were decked out with multicoloured tinsel, trees, and festive ornaments.

Everywhere smelled of cinnamon and the likes of Mariah Carey and Sir Elton John were already belting out their Christmas classics. Mrs Anderson, who could be relied upon for the intimate details of Mr Barr’s gallbladder operation and Mrs Daly’s penchant for t’ai chi in her front garden – “She wears skin-tight leggings, you know, and at her age! Jings!” – came bustling into Flower Power, to reveal that the “famous footballer” who had bought Duxbury Hall had apparently transformed it into a playboy mansion, with three rose-gold chandeliers, mirrored ceilings, a pole-dancing suite, and leopard-print furnishings. She was so excited; I didn’t have the heart to tell her none of it was true.

There were moments when I still felt awful about getting involved with Ezra’s family affairs. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since then and surmised I wouldn’t. He’d taken issue with me, that was clear. As soon as Zach had told me that he’d been made aware that Ezra had two daughters, I’d called them both to warn them.

Caroline and Laura confided in me that despite a couple of further attempts to contact Ezra through his agent, they’d still had no success. They’d even reached out to a few of his celebrity friends, but they’d politely dismissed their appeals for help; probably concerned about it being a potential scam. Every avenue they’d tried seemed to have resulted in a dead end.

Pessimistic about making any possible headway with the man who they believed to be their biological father, they’d both returned to their jobs and lives in England.

I realised they must be genuine. If they hadn’t been, they would’ve gone straight to the papers. Instead, they seemed to have all but accepted defeat and returned home, picking up their own lives again. I suppose there was no point in them hanging around if Ezra wasn’t interested in making contact and especially now, with the media on their tail.

My thoughts were a mash-up over my brother and Declan resurfacing. Then I thought about my own parents next and Marcus’s insistence that I tell Mum and Dad about my ex’s tentacles reaching out to me again.

Whether it was my pride hissing at me not to be cajoled by my brother, the stubborn side of me was kicking in. And even though I knew what Declan was capable of, I was inclined to handle this situation myself. Though if things did progress, if Zach found out who I was, then it would open up old wounds, and I couldn’t allow that or be responsible for it. But did I feel strong enough to gird my loins and return to Bannock House for a visit?

Marcus’s pain-seared blue eyes and his confusion about Jacob kept coming back to me. Something didn’t add up about any of this and I couldn’t stand seeing my brother heartbroken. I knew I had to find out if Mum knew more about Marcus and Jacob’s split than she’d led everyone to believe. I hoped my suspicions were wrong.

* * *

Marcus had told me Mum was away with a few of her charity fundraising cronies on a pre-Christmas shopping trip to New York. She wasn’t due back for a few more days.

I gritted my teeth. I wouldn’t voice my concerns about Jacob to Marcus, not until I’d spoken to Mum first, but his breakup with my brother smacked of my ending with one, Finn Coulter, who I’d met about eight years before at a local Farmers’ Market close to Bannock House, just after I’d graduated from uni with my English degree,

Finn had been charming the market browsers with his ready smile as he assisted his father and younger brother at their cheese stall. Finn was tall, good-looking, outdoorsy and possessed a shock of naturally sun-streaked hair that women everywhere regularly paid their hairdressers a fortune to recreate.

The Coulters were well-known in the area for being a hardworking farming family and I was flattered that day, when Finn had turned his spotlight on me and we’d begun a long, flirtatious conversation. We’d been so engrossed in each other that before we knew it the market was closing down for the day. Around us, the other stallholders were packing up after a successful Friday of trading, dismantling the steel rods, wooden benches, and flapping canvas of their stalls.

When Finn asked me out, I didn’t have to think twice about it.

We spent a happy summer together, wandering hand in hand through the bright fields, indulging in picnics and getting up close and personal in the riots of woodland that ran around Bannock House.

My father liked him and admired his work ethic and Marcus thought we made a cute couple, but as soon as my mother found out about me dating a young farmer, she became stiflingly overprotective. “You two aren’t serious, are you? It’s just a summer romance?” she once asked, making it sound more like a statement than a question. She gave me a forced smile. “I understand, darling. I really do. He’s a good-looking young man and you wanted to experiment. Try a bit of rough, as it were.”

I had stared, horrified, at her across the breakfast table. “Finn is anything but that. He has more style and substance in his little finger than most of the stuck-up sons of your friends!”

My mother had flapped her hands, exasperated. “Oh, I’m not disputing he’s a very pleasant young man, but nothing’s going to come of it, Anastasia.”

I still remember upending my cereal bowl and storming out of the dining room, with her desperate calls echoing behind me. “Darling. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just looking out for you!”

I carried on dating Finn until the night of Halloween when we were supposed to be going to a fancy-dress party that one of my friends was throwing. I stood on the steps of Bannock House waiting for him to pick me up. I was dressed as Alice in Wonderland. Finn said he was going as The Mad Hatter. But he never turned up.

Refusing to accept that he wasn’t coming, I stood there and waited – the fresh October air, tinged with the scent of burnt leaves and pumpkins – until Marcus eventually managed to coax me back inside.

I finally received a curt call from Finn later than evening, to say he’d been mulling things over and he’d decided we were “on different paths” and that it’d be best to remain friends.

But we didn’t even remain that.

Weeks later, I heard Finn had decided to move to the Lake District to head up a new organic foods business venture of his dad’s and I never saw him or heard from him again.

Despite my mother’s insistence she’d had nothing to do with Finn’s decision, I always suspected otherwise. She had comforted me and murmured words of support, but hadn’t seemed surprised when I’d sobbed into Marcus’s shoulder in front of her.

The way Finn had spoken to me on the phone that evening…

The well-rehearsed platitudes and the infuriating It’s not you, it’s me…