Page 58 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

Dane had flirted with me, of course, introducing me to his friends and band members, stationing me beside him; but in the end, I’d made my excuses, saying I was tired, and I left the pub and booked a taxi back to The Ramblings.

I tried to look nonchalant about the whole night, pushing images of Sacha in her skin-tight trousers to the back of my mind. ‘And how about you?’ I asked, not wanting to know. ‘Did you have a good time?’

‘Yes, great, thanks.’ Evan savoured a mouthful of his black coffee. ‘I caught up with Sacha.’

‘Yes, I could see that. Well, she wasn’t hard to spot, was she?’ My smile was rigid. What the hell was the matter with me? Anybody would think I was jealous. ‘It was a great night.’

Evan’s brows stiffened. ‘Yes, I could see what a good time you were having by the way you kept winking at my brother. Unless you have a medical condition?’

I let out an exaggerated laugh. If I didn’t know any better, I might think he was jealous!

I wasn’t jealous of him and Sacha, though. Nope. Not at all. I was irritated by him. And that was a different thing entirely. Completely unrelated.

At that moment, Alison entered the dining room in a pair of light-coloured jeans and a sleeveless, copper T-shirt with, ironically, daisies printed on it. ‘Everyone have a good night at Dane’s gig, then? Was he on top form?’

Evan rolled his eyes. ‘What do you think, Mum?’

‘Yes, it was great, thanks,’ I chipped in, slipping Evan a covert look out of the corner of my eye. ‘The pub was packed.’

Alison helped herself to some tea from the pot. ‘That’s good. Bennett and I have been before to see him and the band, but it’s a bit on the raucous side for our liking.’ She slid me a smile. ‘I’m more of an André Rieu kind of girl.’

‘I’d love to see him in concert,’ I replied. ‘It looks like such a spectacle.’

‘It is. We saw him live in Venice a couple of years ago, and it was like stepping back in time, with all the gorgeous ballgowns and the atmosphere.’ Alison seated herself and sipped her tea. ‘Daisy, I was wondering if you were up to anything this morning? I have to drop some old fabrics at the local high school’s art department.’

I’d just finished my cereal and clanked the spoon against the side of the bowl. I could feel Evan’s eyes landing on me. ‘That’s a blast from the past. That’s my old secondary school.’

Alison beamed across at me. ‘Happy memories?’

‘Mostly,’ I replied, thinking of my gangly self racing to drama class. Some of the other kids had taken the mickey out of me for wanting to act, and because I’d loved it when we studied Shakespeare in English class.

I returned my thoughts to Alison’s offer. It would be a relief to get some fresh air and escape from that dark gaze of Evan’s. He could do whatever he wanted with Sacha, I thought, an odd twisting sensation in my chest. None of it was my business. I wasn’t going to get played again.

‘I’m not doing anything.’ I nodded over at her. ‘More than happy to help you. Thank you.’

* * *

The drive to Forrest Bank High School wasn’t a long one.

I recalled my daily school bus trips from Strath Ross to school and home again, with some of the other kids blasting out Maroon 5 and One Direction, and the bus drivers tutting at Freya McMaster and Leo Anderson snogging on the back seat.

Alison slid on her sunglasses and guided us in her nippy little gold Punto through the high street. ‘Is everything alright between you and Evan?’

I stiffened in the passenger seat. ‘What do you mean?’

I could see her choosing her words carefully. The sun glanced off her blonde highlights. ‘It’s just I thought there was a bit of an atmosphere between you two at breakfast. Sorry if I’ve put my foot in it.’

I twitched my nose. Crikey. What was I supposed to say? I couldn’t tell her that I found myself attracted to her eldest son, despite my best efforts, but I was pissed off at him because he’d left Dane’s gig with his reporter girlfriend. ‘No, I don’t think so,’ I struggled, forcing my attention back to the shops swishing by the window.

There was no way I was admitting any of this to Alison. Prising that information out of me couldn’t be done by tugging off my fingernails. My insides were in a confused knot. Every time I thought about Evan, my breath would catch at the base of my throat as I conjured up more pictures of him gazing down at me from under his lashes. Had I been deluding myself? Had I read it all wrong?

Maybe I’d imagined that he was showing signs of finding me attractive? Perhaps it was wishful thinking? It wasn’t reciprocated?

If I’d created the whole situation in my head, it was my own fault. I’d let myself down by allowing myself to find Evan attractive in the first place. I should’ve fought it more. Ignored it.

Angela turned off the main street and down past a sign which read, ‘Welcome to Forrest Bank High School. Twinned with Lamarr College, Nice, France.’

As we drew closer, I could see my old school emerging. It was a two-storey brown brick and glass building with smaller annexes stationed at the back. It was fringed by thrusting trees and had a generous-sized football pitch and a wild garden, which was tended by the students. Apart from more greenery, it hadn’t changed, I thought with a pang of sentiment.