Page 33 of The Secret Castle in the Highlands

He made a theatrical point of studying his watch again. ‘Look, Poppy, I don’t mean to sound callous, but we need to get a move on if we want to catch Eliza Compton before she heads home for the day.’

I shot him a cross look. ‘Thanks for your concern about my foot.’ I hopped over to the nearby wall, tugged off my right trainer and shook out the offending stone.

I finished tying my lace and was pushing myself away from the wall, when my attention fell on a carving in one of the lower, grey bricks. It wasn’t large or elaborate, but the attention to detail was impressive.

I crouched down to take a closer look. It was of two roses intertwined. Their petals were beautifully scalloped, and I admired the way the prickly stems were laced together, as if locked in an embrace.

‘Poppy,’ thundered Mason from behind me. ‘What on earth are you doing now?’

‘Let me take a quick picture and then I’ll be right with you,’ I promised, pulling out my phone. ‘This is a beautiful carving.’ I focused the camera on my mobile and snapped away, deciding that I would sketch and paint these haunting roses.

I stashed my phone back in my bag and offered Mason an apologetic smile. We moved off again. ‘Sorry about that, but I couldn’t resist. There’s a gorgeous carving back there on one of the bricks.’

‘When you’ve quite finished photographing walls, maybe we can go and speak to Mrs Compton. That is, if she hasn’t closed up for the day already.’

I curled my lip. ‘Don’t get in a flap. Look. The gift shop is still open.’

The castle gift shop was situated across the gravelled path on the ground floor, in what looked like it had been some sort of armoury store. A heavy, glass-panelled door gleamed out of the granite. As soon as we stepped inside, the chilly sea air gave way to a piped Scottish reel and a wave of central heating.

The surrounding wooden shelves were selling everything from McKerron Castle bookmarks and mugs to giant lollipops wrapped in cellophane and snow globes depicting a miniature of the castle in a wintry landscape.

A pair of moss-green tie-back curtains hung at the main window, and behind the counter lurked Eliza Compton. Her slanting, watery eyes swivelled between Mason and me. She came barrelling out from behind her flash-looking till. ‘I’m afraid we’re closing in five minutes.’

‘We’re not here to visit the castle,’ explained Mason. ‘You might remember that I came to talk about the Scarlet Highwayman.’

Eliza struggled to rearrange her pinched features into polite indifference. ‘I remember you, Mr Cooper.’

‘And this is Poppy Summers.’

Eliza Compton gave the briefest of nods. Then she studied me more closely. ‘I thought I recognised you. You’re Oliver Summers’ girl.’

‘Guilty as charged,’ I answered, noting that she didn’t smile at my attempt at humour.

Mason awarded me a withering look and carried on. ‘We’re here to ask about the Lapley family and their connection to the Scarlet Highwayman.’

Eliza’s elderly jaw quivered above the ruffle of her lemon blouse. She’d turned pale. ‘Like what exactly?’ She dropped her voice to a panicked hush. ‘I’ve already told you about the letters, Mr Cooper. What more do you want?’

Mason studied the woman. ‘It seems that a former resident of Port Starr has been hanging around the area, asking about the Scarlet Highwayman story.’

Eliza scurried back behind the protection of the shop counter. She reminded me of a frightened bird being stalked by a hungry cat. She dropped her head, giving us a clear view of her blow-dried, white layers. ‘Sorry, but I can’t help you. I’ve got to cash up now.’

Mason persisted. ‘Don’t you think it strange that someone who was once part of the Port Starr community suddenly returns to the area unannounced, in some sort of attempted disguise, and begins interrogating people about the Scarlet Highwayman?’

Eliza shuffled a pot of McKerron Castle pens on the counter. ‘I don’t know why the Lapley family would want to help fund the castle. But Shadow Land Holdings is their business; it’s their money and their decision. It’s up to them.’

Mason was undeterred. ‘In fact, what also puzzles me is why the Lapley clan seem so preoccupied with McKerron Castle, when they never exhibited any enthusiasm for supporting Port Starr in the first place.’

‘I’m sorry,’ snapped Eliza Compton, ‘but we need to close. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ She remained behind the counter, her expression brooking no argument.

‘Well, thank you for your time, anyway, Mrs Compton,’ he said, jerking his dark head at me.

I followed after him and Mrs Compton banged the gift shop door closed behind us. As I turned to look over my shoulder, a pair of age-spotted hands were fumbling to turn the ‘Open’ sign to read ‘Sorry – Closed’.

‘That went well,’ I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself. A stiff breeze was building up off the sea, delivering a distinct chill.

Mason’s jaw hardened. ‘What did I say to you about letting me do the talking?’

‘Hang on a second,’ I blustered. ‘You did most of the talking and we still aren’t any further forward.’