Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
The remainder of the morning vanished in a whirlwind of enquiries and last-minute organisation for our ‘big reveal’. Mason and Caleb turned up much earlier than expected and insisted on doing a lot of the heavy lifting.
Luckily, Jenny was on good terms with the resident quizmaster at the Harbour’s Rest pub and he lent us his microphone and PA system to address the anticipated crowd.
The plan was for Mason and me to speak to everyone at the foot of the town clock. The weather was due to be dry, although a bit on the grey side, so at least that was a blessing.
As Mason angled past me, he whispered, ‘I can’t stop thinking about you, Rapunzel,’ which made me wear a silly grin for the next half-hour and made Katie threaten to throw up in the public toilets, which she ended up doing.
I turned into a greater emotional wreck when Mason went home to change out of his rock T-shirt and shabby combats, arriving back in a dashing charcoal three-piece suit. The waistcoat emphasised his broad chest and he’d matched it with a metal-grey shirt and ash-coloured silk tie.
‘Hi,’ I said with a smile.
‘Hi back.’ He appraised the belted floral-pink dress and cream ankle boots that I’d changed into for the event. ‘You look gorgeous.’
‘Thanks.’
Once he got closer, he dropped his voice and whispered into my ear. ‘I hope you realise I’m struggling to control myself whenever I’m around you.’
‘Ah. So, this is only lust, then?’ I teased.
‘You know I’m enchanted by your brains as well as your beauty.’
‘Do I?’
Mason raised an eyebrow. ‘Okay. Tell you what. Come out to dinner with me this evening and we’ll discuss all things arty.’
‘That sounds great.’
‘Then I’ll take you back to my place and we can carry on from where we left off last night.’
Mason’s scorching gaze made my chest rise and fall. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
He flashed me a smoky look. ‘I do my best.’
Our flirting was interrupted by Katie. She had someone with her; a young, brown-haired guy sporting a short beard and wearing a sharp blue suit.
Mason and Katie exchanged smiles and polite small talk for a moment. Then Katie indicated the expectant-looking, floppy-haired man at her side. ‘Poppy, I’d like you to meet David Telfer from Historic Heritage.’
‘You’re David. The gentleman I spoke to about all this. Er … hi. Nice to meet you.’ I cocked my head. ‘Apologies, but I don’t understand what’s going on. I thought you couldn’t make it, Mr Telfer.’
‘Please, it’s David,’ interjected the man, glancing at his surroundings. ‘It turns out that your father knows my boss at Historic Heritage and managed to persuade him to allow me an escape from my in-tray for the day to come here.’
I couldn’t conceal my surprise. ‘My dad used his contacts to get you along here?’
‘Yes, he did.’
A flush of pride washed over me. Dad really was impressed with my achievements with the cottages.
As people began to stroll down the cobbles towards us, idling outside the bevelled windows of the shops and speculating amongst themselves as to what was going on, Mason had one final rehearsal of the notes he’d brought with him.
There was a thrum of inquisitiveness from the growing crowd, who made up a broad cross-section of our seaside community.
Elderly people, their expressions brimming with curiosity, stood beside tall, bony teenagers; intrigued families had young children cradled in their arms or hoisted onto their fathers’ shoulders for a clearer view.
Standing with his arm draped around Katie’s shoulders was Caleb. Even Mrs Compton and Ryan were there. Ryan gave me a small nod, while a few feet away from him, Eliza Compton stared up nervously. There was even a handful of intrigued tourists amidst the crowd.
My eyes searched for the waxen face of Alex Lapley, but I couldn’t see him. Apprehension stabbed at me, though I tried to ignore it. That man was capable of anything, and I found it difficult to believe he wouldn’t be lurking amongst the crowd somewhere.
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.