Page 52 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

After I’d finished applying my makeup, I rifled through the contents of my case.

I pulled an agonised face. What should I wear? I hadn’t expected to be invited to a rock gig.

My ankle was much better, but I decided to avoid the couple of pairs of strappy heels I’d thrown into my case and opted instead for my more sensible, sparkly trainers. I’d team that with my rose pink, strappy, summer top, my slim-fitting, black jeans and my rhinestone belt. I’d throw my denim jacket on over it all in case it got cooler when the gig ended.

I pinned my hair up at each side and dashed on some of my favourite Dior perfume. I grabbed my bag and phone and was just rounding the corner after heading downstairs when I collided with a chest. ‘Oh!’

Evan.

He was wearing a white T-shirt under a loose, black, linen shirt and dark combats. He smelled of cedarwood and his hair was tumbling back from his face in dark layers.

His serious expression shifted as he drank me in. ‘You look gorgeous.’

The air around us bristled. ‘Thank you. You don’t look too shabby either.’

There was a poignant crackle again between us. It was as if The Ramblings was holding its breath, eavesdropping in on our conversation.

‘I thought we could take my dad’s car.’

‘Don’t you want to walk there if it’s not too far? You won’t be able to have a drink.’

’We can get a cab back, and I’ll collect the car in the morning.’ He nodded down at my right foot. ‘And yes, I know you said it’s much better, but let’s not risk it.’

His words wrapped themselves around me. Something told me I could get used to this, being watched over and protected rather than having to do the watching over and the tending. But that warning klaxon about staying self-reliant and not getting hurt exploded in my head again.

The spectre of Leon reappeared. God, I hated him for the emotional debris and distrust he’d left in his wake.

Evan smiled down at me. ‘Come on, then. We don’t want to keep Bryan Adams waiting.’

I cocked a brow at Evan and laughed. ‘Something tells me Dane and his band would like to be compared to someone grittier than Bryan Adams.’

‘I know,’ he grinned. ‘That’s why I said it.’

Louise called out to us to have a great evening and returned to singing along to Michael Ball and Alfie Boe in the kitchen. Alison and Bennett had gone to visit friends in Aviemore.

* * *

We made our way out of The Ramblings and down to where Bennett’s car was parked up: the silver Mercedes which Evan had used to rescue me and my twisted ankle.

We jumped into it and set off.

As Evan edged us out of the grounds and onto the main road, in the far distance we could just about see the faint, grey shimmer of Loch Crawe and what looked like drones hovering like black dots. ‘Hopefully it won’t be much longer, and then you’ll be able to leave and see your grandfather,’ pointed out Evan.

He steered us towards a small line of traffic lights and then along the high street.

‘What’s he like?’ asked Evan. ‘Your grandfather?’

‘He’s wonderful, although I am biased. He’s funny, insightful and very caring.’ Just like you, whispered a voice in my head. I reset my head and concentrated on my grandfather again. ‘He used to work for the local council in their parks and gardens department, as I said. He loved it.’

‘And what about your grandmother?’

‘She was a hairdresser. She passed away fifteen years ago now.’

‘I’m sorry.’

I appreciated the winding shops beyond the passenger side window. ‘My grandma meant so much to him. He misses her like crazy, as do I. We just make sure we’re always there for one another. We always have.’

Evan clicked his indicator to the right and took us down a narrow street, sandwiched with quiet little gift shops and restaurants and cafes decked out with awnings. ‘And what about your parents?’