Page 99 of A Scottish Lighthouse Escape

Becky Hollis’s chin jutted out in defiance. ‘I’m not leaving until… Hey!’ But Mitch had grasped her by the elbow and was steering her through the guests towards the gallery door. He unlocked it and angled her outside. He closed it on her protesting face. ‘I’m going to write about you, Mr Carlisle. You won’t sell many of your paintings then, I can assure you.’

Mitch shrugged. ‘Please feel free to write about me all you want, Ms Hollis. But you need to get your facts straight first. You see, I’m not the artist who painted these pictures.’

She glowered through the glass and wrapped her arms around herself. She looked like a furious fairy in her long, suede, winter coat. ‘What are you going on about?’

Mitch pushed his face closer to the door and dropped his voice. ‘I’m a lighthouse keeper, not a painter. And I didn’t paint those pictures.’ Then he gave her a dazzling smile and hauled the long, beige and chocolate curtain over the door to obscure her view.

After a few agitated thumps and kicks of the door from the other side, we heard Becky Hollis squeal away in her car.

Mitch and Reece wandered back over to me.

Ruth stared up at Mitch, a look of confusion rearing in her eyes. ‘Thank you. For getting rid of her just now.’ She took another gulp of water and rested the glass on her lap.

I turned my head away to talk to Mitch and Reece and lowered my voice. ‘I couldn’t humiliate her after what just happened. But I do still want to speak to her about Tilda.’

‘In private,’ nodded Mitch.

‘Yes.’

He slid his hand into mine and caressed my fingers. A wave of love gripped me. ‘What you did just now – getting rid of that horrible reporter – that was very kind of you,’ I said.

Mitch smiled. ‘And you could’ve blabbed to that journalist and really humiliated Ruth. But you didn’t.’ He gestured his head in Ruth’s direction. ‘Let’s give her a few more minutes to recover and then we could try and speak to her in her office.’

After a few moments, streaks of colour were returning to Ruth’s cheeks.

I studied her. ‘Are you alright?’

She raised her grey bob. It was flapping onto her face. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

I knelt down in front of her, my woollen dress fanning out over my knees. ‘Do you feel up to speaking to us? In private? It won’t take long.’

Her forlorn eyes felt like they were processing every inch of me. ‘Yes. Of course.’ Her cheeks blossomed with colour. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

She rose from her chair and Mitch walked beside her, just in case she felt faint again, although she looked much steadier on her feet now. ‘Nothing to see here,’ she joked to the faces of the concerned guests watching her. ‘Please continue to avail yourselves of the hospitality on offer.’

Taking her at her word, Reece gleefully helped himself to another flute of champagne.

Meanwhile, Mitch, Ruth and I headed to the back of the gallery floor. Ruth encouraged us into her office and clicked the door shut behind her.

Her office was a white affair, with an oval-shaped glass desk, dry reed plants and obscure black-and-white framed paintings of triangles and squares on its walls.

No sooner had Ruth taken up her seat behind her desk and Mitch and I had sat down in the two white leather chairs than I spoke. ‘Mitch didn’t paint those pictures, Ruth. He’s not the artist.’

Her attention pinged from me to Mitch and back again. ‘Sorry?’

‘It’s true,’ admitted Mitch. ‘I don’t paint. Well, a lick of emulsion in the lighthouse.’

Ruth’s mouth popped open. She looked from me to Mitch and back again as though struggling to understand what was playing out here. ‘Then if you didn’t paint those pictures, who did?’

I levelled my gaze at her. ‘My grandmother.’

Ruth’s red lipstick, which had faded somewhat, twisted into a stricken O shape. ‘But… But … Mitch … you said…’

‘No, I didn’t say anything. You just assumed I painted them.’

She started to clasp and unclasp her hands. Her shoulders sank under her well-cut suit.

Through her office door, I could hear fervent murmurs of conversation and the tinkling of champagne glasses.