Page 60 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

Alison dropped her voice. ‘Please don’t say anything to Evan, but even that amount of money he gives us is being swallowed up. If it’s not the roof, it’s the heating, or we stumble across dry rot. It’s never-ending.’

Alison pressed the intercom, and we were put through to the school office. ‘Alison Lord here, with Daisy Madden. I called earlier. I’ve got some materials to drop off for the art department.’

‘Oh yes,’ croaked a lilting Highland female voice. ‘Hold on a second please, Mrs Lord, and I’ll buzz you in.’

The double doors whooshed back, and Alison and I entered, negotiating entry with the holdalls of rolled up fabrics.

I gazed around. It was just how I remembered it, except for more large, white, ceramic, square tubs housing greenery dotted around the place.

‘Changed much?’ asked Alison, as though reading my mind.

I shook my head. ‘The mosaics are new over by the stairwell, and there’s fancier photography on the walls, but apart from that, no.’

One of the school secretaries gazed up from her computer screen and approached the glass partition. Her trendy spectacles glinted at us.

There was the odd student drifting up and down between classes, resplendent in their black and gold piped uniforms and silvery, striped ties. It reminded me of being a teenager, charging about the school corridors here the same way.

The school secretary took our names and tapped at her computer screen. ‘I’ll just let Ms Carnegie know that you’re here. Please take a seat over there.’

Alison and I took up seats on a couple of black and chrome leather chairs in reception, still armed with the spare materials, while the secretary contacted the art department.

A few moments later, a young woman in a waistcoat and flared trousers came striding towards us from along the left-hand corridor and pumped Alison’s hand up and down. Then she shook mine. ‘Thank you so much for all of this! I promise it will go to very good use.’

‘No problem, Nadia. Glad to be of help.’ Alison smiled at me. ‘I won’t be a second.’

The teacher assisted her with the canvas bags of material, and they vanished back up to the left, chatting together.

I’d just taken up my seat again to wait for Alison to return when I had the feeling I was being watched. I shifted in my chair and admired the mosaic artwork of Loch Crawe up on the wall and the black and white photographs of the high street in years gone by.

Still, the feeling remained that someone was watching me.

I glanced around before realising that I was right. Someone in the school office was indeed peering through the partition at me.

It was a woman who I estimated to be in her mid-forties with rich, burnished, short hair and soft lines around her wide-set, pastel green eyes. Maybe she thought I was someone else.

I trained my attention again on the impressive mosaic for a few moments and then glanced back at the school office. She was still there, staring through the glass at me.

I delivered a brief, nervous smile.

I got a big, dazzling grin in return. Then she beckoned me over.

I peered around, looking for anyone else, but no, it was me she was indicating to.

I stood up and tentatively approached. ‘Hello,’ I said, not sure what else to say and wondering what was going on.

‘Hi.’ Her eyes popped at me. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but aren’t you Tammy from that ITV drama series?’

My cheeks flared with delight. Someone recognised me? ‘Yes,’ I faltered, my smile getting wider. ‘I am. I mean, yes, I’m the actor who played her.’ I wanted to shake her hand, but she was stationed behind the school office glass. ‘I’m Daisy Madden.’

‘I knew it!’ she gasped, one excited hand fluttering up to rest on her chest. She was wearing a white blouse with a black, velvet pussy bow. ‘Och, I’m brilliant at spotting celebrities. Wherever me and my husband go, if there’s someone famous around, I can see them a mile off.’

I laughed, flattered. ‘I’m not a celebrity or famous, believe me, but thank you very much for saying so.’

The woman kept grinning at me. ‘You were wonderful in that series! I loved it!’

Ha! Up yours, Fox, I thought to myself in triumph, still beaming at the school secretary. ‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’ This was just what my confidence needed. After Fox’s appalling review of Sinister, my current acting work drought and then Evan making me feel at all sixes and sevens, it was lovely to be recognised.

It was at that moment that the woman flapped her hand to get someone’s attention behind me. ‘Mrs Hazelwood? Excuse me? There’s a phone message that’s been left for you.’