Page 106 of The Secret Castle in the Highlands

Mason stood up on a platform we had put together using two huge crates from the newsagents, draped in some of the buttercup-yellow-and-sea-blue cloth we’d used for the launch of White Willow Cottages.

I expected him to start addressing the crowd, but instead he urged me to approach the microphone first. ‘Come on,’ he insisted. ‘If it hadn’t been for your tenacity, Poppy, we wouldn’t be standing here in front of all these people now.’ He shot out one hand and furled it around mine.

Maisie and Jenny stood side by side and offered encouraging smiles from the front of the throng.

Eager faces bobbed in my line of sight as a steely-blue sky rolled above our heads and there was the faint rush of the sea rising from the harbour below.

‘I haven’t prepared anything to say,’ I muttered, panicked.

‘Don’t worry about that.’ Mason said, giving my hand a quick squeeze. ‘Just go with it. You’ll be great.’

I took to the platform and cleared my throat, aware of the black microphone thrusting up towards my face. The hem of my dress flapped against my knees. I pushed my mouth closer to the microphone, sending a burst of breath rocketing through the sound system. A few people flinched at the noise.

‘Sorry.’ I laughed nervously.

‘A lot of people would pay good money to hear heavy breathing like that,’ joked Mason.

I fired him a look.

The murmurings of the gathering crowd evaporated as I started to speak. ‘I’m sorry for the hasty organisation of this, but I hope you can appreciate that we felt it important to tell the Port Starr community what we’ve learned.’ My fingers tugged at the microphone stand. ‘Maybe as a teenager I had a somewhat rose-tinted view of the Scarlet Highwayman, but I always had a sense that we didn’t know the whole truth about this mysterious and enigmatic character.’

My attention fell on Katie and Caleb, who stuck his thumb up at me in encouragement.

‘But thanks to the historian Mason Cooper and with the help of an anonymous third party, we’ve been able to discover the truth, and we’d like to share it with you all now.’ I took a breath. ‘The Scarlet Highwayman is so important to our town and to our history. We have something of huge importance to share, and we believe it’s now time for Port Starr to reclaim him as one of our own.’

Murmurs spread through the crowd as I stepped down to allow Mason to take my place at the microphone. As he walked past me, his hand reached out to hold mine. His fingers were featherlight.

Once the smattering of applause faded, Mason glanced down at his scribbled notes. He appeared so confident and commanding up there, in his dashing suit with the breeze sifting through his wiry black hair.

‘Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Mason Cooper. Some time ago now, I learned of a man who lived in Port Starr in the eighteenth century.’ He flicked his eyes across the heads of the audience. ‘This man earned a reputation as a rogue who robbed innocent people and committed the most terrible crimes while bringing terror to this otherwise peaceful seaside community. But was this really the case?’

‘Of course, it bloody well was!’

My heart plummeted like a stone and Mason glowered across the heads of the crowd at Alex Lapley, who had emerged phantom-like from behind a young couple.

Heads turned to see where the rogue voice had come from.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ oozed Alex in his bright-blue suit, ‘can’t you see what this is? This is a pathetic attempt to whitewash a character who was a common criminal!’ As he strode through the parting audience, he gestured to Mason. ‘All he wants is free publicity for his next TV show.’

Mason fought to keep his voice steady. ‘I can assure all of you, that isn’t true.’ He gave me a tender look. ‘Through dogged research and with invaluable help, we’ve managed to uncover who the Scarlet Highwayman was, why his reputation was destroyed and why the Lapley family were hellbent on turning Port Starr against him.’

There were murmurs of consternation amongst the crowd. Mason paused for effect, catching Alex Lapley in his frosty gaze. Alex paled and let out a bark of forced laughter. ‘I don’t believe a word of this. Where’s your proof?’

Mason stood his ground, a corner of his mouth flinching. ‘Through the discovery of a very unusual pendant in one of the gardens at Bluebird Cottages, together with a jewellery box connecting it to a particular headstone in Port Starr cemetery – not to mention a carving at McKerron Castle – we’ve been able to conclude⁠—’

Alex shook his head, trying to disguise a rising panic in his cold gaze. ‘This is all nonsense. You can’t stop progress, Mr Cooper, no matter how desperate you are.’

‘We’re not desperate,’ I cut across him. ‘And closing a local business is not progress. All you’re trying to do is manipulate and blackmail people.’

Alex’s pale eyes sprang open in mock horror. ‘What on earth are you talking about, Ms Summers? I know it might be difficult for you to accept, but the Scarlet Highwayman is a stain on the history of this wonderful little town.’

From the centre of the crowd came a series of sarcastic slow handclaps.

All heads jerked round and the chatter stopped.

I strained my neck, desperate to see where the sound was coming from.

It was Eliza Compton.