Page 46 of The Secret Castle in the Highlands

‘Most of the time he is.’ I paused before asking my next question. ‘Are you an only?’

‘No, I’ve got a younger brother, Garrett. He’s an archaeologist.’ Mason dived into his jeans pocket and pulled out his phone. He scrolled to a picture and handed his mobile across to me.

It was a photograph of Mason with a man who shared his raven hair colour but was a shade shorter and of slighter build. A watery sun was spilling down on both of them, and the peaks and troughs of a mountain range were visible behind them. They were both wearing backpacks. Garrett was grinning, while Mason was sporting a lopsided smile.

Mason’s velvety tones jolted me out of my thoughts. ‘We have our arguments like all brothers do, but we’re really close. Garrett’s currently on a dig down south.’

‘Oh, whereabouts?’

He took an appreciative bite of boiled potato. ‘Have you heard about the discovery of an ancient burial site down in Cambridge?’

I recalled something mentioned on the news several weeks back.

‘Well, Garrett is heading up that dig. It’s all very exciting and a great opportunity for him.’ His eyes glowed as he spoke. ‘Indications are the bones recovered there might be the victims of some family dispute that took place several hundred years ago.’

‘Wow!’ I handed back his phone to him and drank some of my water. I smiled down at Darwin, who was now snoozing by Mason’s feet. ‘Your parents must be very proud of you both.’

Mason’s eye roll made me laugh. ‘It’s got to the point where their neighbours are avoiding them. I think the poor sods are sick of hearing about the pair of us.’

‘And are you alike in nature?’

He looked pensive. ‘Garrett is more sensitive than I am; he tends to rush headlong into situations…’ His voice tailed off as he recalled something. ‘But I’m always here for him.’

‘I’m sure you are.’

I paused, expecting him to elaborate, but Mason finished the last of his asparagus and sank back in his chair. ‘That was delicious, Poppy. Thank you again.’

‘You’re welcome.’

We both stood up and began to clear away the dinner debris.

‘So, do you go back much to Cormount to visit your parents?’

An odd look flashed across his dark features again. Mason kept his attention focused on the knives and forks as he rinsed them under the tap. He took longer than I expected to answer. ‘I go when I can, but what with the likelihood of this TV series in the offing, it’s not going to be easy.’ He began stacking the dirty plates in my dishwasher. ‘I prefer to pay for them to fly over to visit me.’

‘I bet they enjoy that.’

Mason’s mouth melted. ‘They’ve grown accustomed to business-class travel even faster than I thought they would.’ His attention shifted to my kitchen window for a moment. ‘Cormount is…’ He appeared to catch himself, a guarded wall surfacing. ‘Thank you again for dinner.’

I puzzled at why he was so secretive but afforded him a smile. ‘No problem at all.’ I gave Darwin an affectionate pat as he weaved around my legs. ‘I’ll make some coffee.’

‘That would be great, thanks. Then I’ll show you Georgina’s diary.’

The rich aroma of roasted coffee permeated my sitting room. I set down the tray on the table with two stripy mugs and a bubbling cafetière.

Mason was resting against my sofa, and in his hand was Georgina Lapley’s diary. It looked so alien in many ways, with its worn grey cover and yellowed pages.

He poured the coffee before handing me a cup and taking a long sip of his own. ‘Right,’ he exclaimed as the moody sky outside melted into a belt of rain.

I put my coffee mug beside his on the table and took the diary. It was wearing its age quite well, despite the grooves and indentations etched into the leather cover. It was the strong scent of lignin – like dated vanilla – that gave a clue to its years.

I opened it, the pages parting with a dry rustle. I was faced with Georgina Lapley’s handwriting – a sea of delicate black loops and swirls, dancing and skipping across every page.

Mason directed me to where I should start reading. ‘This is where the story gets really good.’

I glanced at him and began to read on from when we’d been sitting in his car a short while ago.

Georgina Lapley was heading to this tawdry pub to see what her husband was up to.