Page 85 of Surprises on the Scottish Isle

As his feet hit the shingle, he faltered. Perhaps it might be better if he sent her a note instead. Or a card; the gift shop had some nice ones. He might even persuade Bonnie to sign it, although he wouldn’t hold his breath.

He was about to turn back when he realised something wasn’t right, but it took him a second or two to figure out what was wrong.

Misty Ladywas missing.

Great. That’s all he needed. Some thieving scabby bawbag had nicked his damn boat.

He stared over the water with narrowed eyes, trying to spot it. A few vessels were still on the loch, and he scrutinised them. Some were obviously not his – too big, wrong colour, wrong shape – and all of them, except one, were high tailing it towards the shore ahead of the encroaching storm. Having no idea when his boat had been stolen, he realised it could be anywhere by now, and may have been taken out to sea.

Cal concentrated on the speck near the far shore, but although his eyesight was good, it wasn’tthatgood. He needed a pair of binoculars.

He dashed back to the cottage to fetch them and found Bonnie at the window. She’d been watching him, and when he hurried into the hall, lifted his binoculars from the coat peg where they usually lived and shot outside again, she followed closely behind.

‘Wasn’t Tara in, Dad?’

‘I don’t know. I didn’t get that far. The skiff is missing.’

‘Where has it gone?’

‘I think someone might have stolen it.’

‘That’s not fair!’

‘No, it isn’t.’ Cal came to a halt on the shingle and raised the binoculars. As he scanned the water, which had grown considerably choppier in the few minutes it had taken him to fetch the binoculars, he adjusted them to sharpen the image.

The sea was grey, with racing flecks of white, the water whipped up by the wind. Angry clouds scudded overhead, and the mountains on the opposite shore were shrouded in mist. He could see the rain coming, purple and iron-grey columns darkening the water.

Cal felt a twinge of alarm, and hoped whoever had stolen his boat wasn’t still out there. Things were about to get nasty pretty quickly, and the skiff wasn’t built for rough weather.

Thinking he must have imagined seeing a small vessel on the far side of the loch, he was about to give up searching when he saw something.

Was that it? Concentrating hard, he adjusted the lenses again, trying to get a clearer view. The waves were higher now, hiding the vessel, so he could only catch brief glimpses of it now and again before it disappeared into the troughs.

Feeling certain it wasMisty Lady, he gripped the binoculars hard. Even if it wasn’t his boat, it was in danger, and that was a job for the coastguard.

‘Can you see it, Dad?’

‘I think so.’

‘Can I see?’ She held up her hand for the binoculars, but he didn’t answer.

The rain had reached them, and although the first drops were only a smattering, Cal knew he and Bonnie would soon be soaked to the skin.

‘Why don’t you go inside before you get— Oh, God!’

‘What?’

‘It can’t be! She wouldn’t!’

‘What, Dad?’

‘It’s Tara.’

Bonnie glanced at the boathouse. ‘Where?’

‘On the loch. She’s takenMisty Ladyout.’

‘But you said there’s a storm coming.’

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