Page 67 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

Ignoring me, she jumped up from the bed in a flurry of loose hair and cotton T-shirt. Her voice wobbled. ‘I think you should go now. Thanks anyway.’

‘But Cayla…’

Her eyes were shining with tears. ‘Please.’

I slipped on my jacket, bundled up my bag and closed the bedroom door behind me, almost crashing into Gillian.

I encouraged her back down the stairs so we could talk without Cayla overhearing.

‘How did you get on, Daisy?’

I pulled a pained expression. ‘Not very well, I’m afraid. She said she’s decided she doesn’t want to act anymore.’

Her mother’s optimistic expression collapsed. ‘If I could get my bloody hands on that little witch Carina Whitelaw! It’s a good job she’s no longer a pupil at the school.’

I listened sympathetically. ‘Cayla’s got it into her head that she doesn’t have what it takes, but from what I’ve seen, she definitely does.’

Gillian folded her arms. ‘Thank you for trying to talk to her anyway, Daisy. I really do appreciate it.’

‘You’re welcome. She might change her mind if you leave the subject be. You know what teenagers can be like.’ I offered a brief smile. ‘And if she does want to talk to me again, you have my number.’

Gillian thanked me and stood at the front door.

I reached the end of their garden path. Something made me want to turn around and look up. Cayla’s pair of lavender curtains twitched. Her forlorn, freckled face was peeking out.

When I looked up again, she’d gone.