Epilogue
TWO WEEKS LATER, PORT STARR
Darwin charged ahead of us, his paws pounding through the surf. Despite the brisk early August breeze whipping across the sea, he bombed into the water. The waves rippled onto the sand.
I gazed up at Mason, his aviator sunglasses almost as silver as the eyes they were shielding. He seemed strangely preoccupied today.
‘I was wondering about us organising some sort of local memorial service for Gideon and Georgina.’
He brushed a stray hair from my cheek. ‘I think that’s a lovely idea. After all, they fell in love here and did so much for the local community.’
‘That’s what I thought. Nothing formal or stuffy, though. I was going to suggest a torchlight procession along the beach.’ Then another idea came to me. ‘It might even be a nice touch to have a fiddler play a lament.’ I remembered that there was often a chap who played at the Sea Shanty.
I stared out at the water. It was rippling and peaking in crests of silver. ‘I just think we should do something to remember them. I mean, thanks to the Lapley family, Gideon was treated like a social outcast, and they weren’t much better to Georgina and Oscar, either.’
Mason pulled me in closer to him and I nestled against his navy fleece.
He smiled. ‘It was so nice of Port Starr Community Council to offer the town hall to Katie and you for an exhibition of your artwork.’
‘I think it’s their way of saying thank you,’ I said.
‘I mean, since all this came out about Gideon Kelly and the Lapley family, tourist numbers have gone crazy in the last week.’ I grinned.
‘The cottages are all currently occupied and we’ve got the six of them fully booked until the end of October. Not that I’m complaining.’
I closed my eyes for a moment, soaking up the air drizzled with sea salt. The noise of gulls rattled above our heads. Darwin loped this way and that, chasing the birds and barking at the waves rushing to meet him.
‘Mason! Poppy!’
‘Oh, bloody hell!’ groaned Mason, his trainers squelching to a halt on the wet sand. ‘I thought they said they were having such a great time up in the Highlands they were planning on staying up there another few more days.’
A pang of guilt hit me again as I saw Orla and Jack striding along the beach towards us, arm in arm.
‘We shouldn’t have lied to them,’ I hissed up at Mason. ‘They’re lovely people and I still feel bad about deceiving them like we did.’
‘But we’re not deceiving them now, are we?’ assured Mason, removing his sunglasses. He lowered his lips to mine. ‘This is real.’
I kissed him back. ‘I know it is, but I do feel bad about it. We were really naughty.’
Mason’s eyes glinted at me. ‘Oh, that does sound interesting. Are you naughty often, then?’
‘Sshhh!’ I reddened. ‘They’re coming over!’
Orla embraced me, all well-cut hair and crimson nails, and then Jack pecked me on the cheek.
‘I didn’t expect you back for a little while,’ said Mason as his mother hugged him.
‘Oh, your mother wanted to spend an extra couple of days with you before we head home,’ explained Jack, smoothing down his ruffled grey hair. ‘And once she has an idea in her head, everybody better bloody well look out!’
‘That sounds very familiar,’ muttered Mason.
I gave his arm a playful smack. ‘So how did you know we were down on the beach?’
Orla zipped up her red fleece. ‘We went round to the office and saw that lovely woman who cleans the cottages. Jenny, isn’t it?’
‘Maisie was there, too,’ added Jack. ‘She was going to stop and chat, but then she said some guy called David was ringing her.’
My smile blossomed. ‘He’s from Historic Heritage. He was up here a couple of weeks ago, and I think they hit it off.’
There was silence for a moment, while Darwin snaked around us.
‘I hoped things would work out like this with you two,’ observed Jack, linking arms again with his wife, ‘despite that charade you both put on for our benefit.’
Mason’s jaw dropped. ‘What are you talking about, Dad?’
‘You and Poppy,’ he carried on, oblivious to the confused look Orla was giving him. ‘I guessed you weren’t a couple when you kept insisting you were.’
My face stung. ‘I’m so sorry, Jack. How did you know?’
‘I had my doubts when I noticed there didn’t appear to be any of Poppy’s things in your apartment, mate. That did make me a bit suspicious.’
Then Jack confessed he’d overheard snatches of our rather heated argument on the way back to the office.
Orla scowled at Mason. ‘You mean, you weren’t going out together, but you told us you were?’
‘I only did it, Mum, to get some breathing space from all your I-wish-you’d-meet-a-nice-girl-and-settle-down-after-your-disastrous-first-marriage seminars.’
Orla reddened at Mason’s impression of her fussing. ‘I don’t do that!’
Jack coughed beside her. ‘Yes, you do, love.’ He gestured behind him. ‘And then just now when I was chatting to Katie, she let slip that it was wonderful about you two finally getting together after all the revelations with … oh … what was it … the Dashing White Sergeant?’
Mason laughed. ‘It’s the Scarlet Highwayman, Dad. We’ll tell you both about it later.’
Orla heaved a sigh. ‘I’m so sorry, Son, if you felt I was coming on too strong. I just want you to be happy, that’s all.’
‘I know.’ Mason slipped his arm possessively around my waist. ‘And I am. More than you could know.’
I flashed a smile up at him. ‘That makes two of us, then.’
‘Right,’ exclaimed Jack, rubbing his hands together. ‘Let’s give these two young things a bit of time on their own while we try that new ale they were advertising at the Sea Shanty.’
‘Any excuse,’ sighed Orla.
We agreed to meet up for a bite to eat later and waved them off across the folds of sand.
Mason opened his mouth to speak at the same time as I did. ‘Go on,’ he encouraged. ‘You go first.’
‘Okay. Well, I’ve been thinking.’
‘Why does that sentence scare me?’
I nudged his arm. ‘That home of the Lapleys – The Hawthorns – is rumoured to be going on the market.’
‘Are you really surprised?’ questioned Mason. ‘After all this, there’s no way they could return to the area. I think the locals would be waiting for them, armed with pitchforks.’
‘Yes, I agree. And we’re going to be busy with the Scarlet Highwayman display up at the castle.’
McKerron Castle was going to launch its first official tour of the tunnels, showing where the Scarlet Highwayman hid out and telling the story of a man branded a ruthless killer and murderer, only to be found to be Scotland’s answer to Robin Hood.
A man who put his energies into helping the lost, the lonely and the despondent of the local community, at his own risk.
It seemed only fitting that the castle should play its part, seeing as it had in effect protected him and Georgina’s love for so long.
‘It’s going to be a lovely homage to the story of Gideon, Georgina and Oscar.’
The beach breeze ruffled my hair, but I barely noticed. I was too busy conjuring up pictures in my head of tourists discovering the story of Gideon for the first time.
I glanced down at our wet footprints tapering along the shoreline.
‘I’ve decided I’m going to paint a portrait of what I think Linus looked like, and that could appear in the castle tour too – that is, if Historic Heritage like the idea.’
Mason gazed at me with admiration. ‘I don’t doubt that if you’ve got anything to do with it, it’ll happen.’
‘You think so?’
He kissed the tip of my nose. ‘I know so.’
We started walking again, with Darwin bounding ahead of us through the spools of waves that were creeping towards our trainers.
We meandered further, the sun weaving in and out of the specks of cloud. Mason had fallen silent again.
McKerron Castle was pushing its way out of the coastline as it always did, stoic and windswept, but with even more meaning for me now.
It had protected Gideon and Georgina and the love they shared for so long; even now, it still held their secrets behind those resilient stone walls.
I always knew it was a spectacular, special place but I never realised it possessed such a link to the Scarlet Highwayman. It had hidden its secrets well.
‘You’re still a bit quiet,’ I observed as we moved on up the beach. ‘Is there something wrong?’ A thought struck me. ‘There isn’t a problem with that TV production company, is there? I thought they were keen to get on board with this Scarlet Highwayman documentary.’
I turned to face the horizon, with its irregular skyline of water blending into a blanket of soft powder blue. ‘I know the last week or so has been really full on, but now that Alex Lapley is being charged with fraud, I think not only we, but the whole of Port Starr can move on.’
Darwin had stopped barking and wasn’t splashing seawater halfway up my jeans. Mason wasn’t saying anything, either.
From behind me, Mason sounded exasperated. ‘No, there isn’t a problem with my pitch for the TV documentary. I’m confident that it’s going to get the green light.’ I heard him take a deep breath. ‘Please, Poppy, can you stop talking for a moment and turn around? I’m getting bloody soaked here.’
Mason was down on one knee, which was being lapped at by the incoming tide, and beside him was Darwin, sitting upright with one paw held out as if begging.
My hand flew to my mouth. ‘Oh my God! What are you doing?’
Mason flinched as more water lapped at his denims. ‘Well, I’m not searching for a lost contact lens.’
I could feel my heart thumping as he fiddled about in his jacket pocket. He produced a dark-blue box. Darwin gave it a sniff. Mason offered the box to me.
I reached out, my eyes never leaving his face, and accepted it from him. Our fingertips brushed together as I eased it open. It was a rose-gold engagement ring, but the centrepiece was not a mirror-like jewel, a glinting sapphire or blood-red ruby.
It was a miniature horseshoe, also fashioned out of rose gold, but with three diamond chips.
Hot tears sprang from my eyes as I gazed down at the cream satin cushion and that beautiful ring protruding from its centre.
‘I know I’m not the Scarlet Highwayman,’ Mason said in a loud voice over the whoosh of the waves. ‘I don’t have a black steed called Linus and I don’t wear riding boots. I’m a grumpy historian with a mad dog, but I love you so much.’
A rush of emotion bubbled into my throat. All the hurt, all the disappointment of the past was dissolving in front of me, as though the tide was taking it far, far away.
I gave him a watery smile. ‘I don’t care. I love you too. And your mad dog.’
‘We both want each other for who we are, pure and simple,’ carried on Mason, before stopping to give Darwin a questioning look. ‘Hang on. Is that a yes?’
‘You bet!’ I cried, throwing myself at Mason, who sprang upright. Darwin jumped up against our legs as we stood kissing on the soggy sand.
Plucking the ring from the box, Mason slid it onto my finger.
‘Can I ask you one favour?’
‘Of course you can,’ I managed through happy tears.
‘Do you think we can forget a beach wedding?’
I pretended to deliberate the question. ‘Maybe … okay. On one condition. Well, two, actually.’
‘Anything.’
‘That you let me paint your portrait.’
‘It’s a deal.’
‘Now that my Scarlet Highwayman painting is to be displayed in the castle on the tour, I need a new subject.’ I grinned at him lasciviously. ‘And I see you in a pair of riding boots. I think you’d rock that tight-trousers highwayman look.’
Mason pressed his grinning mouth against mine, as Darwin pushed his way between and around our legs. ‘Ooh, kinky. Okay, it’s a deal. Now, Poppy, please will you stop talking for one second and give me another kiss?’