The melody of a lone bagpiper drew Georgie and AJ beyond the aged timber St Andrews sign, along the curved steps and through a cottage-style garden with its cascades of seaside daisy.
Douglas Macdougall stood apart, in full highland getup, blowing mournful fingers of music that twisted heartstrings and lingered in the chill autumn air.
At the top of the stairs, Georgie turned to look down on Daylesford.
So much for a sleepy country town renowned for romantic weekends.
So much for a sleepy country town renowned for romantic weekends.She blinked back tears and swivelled. Clouds travelled swiftly behind the neo-gothic Presbyterian Church. Weak sunlight illuminated its slate roof and leadlight windows. Beautiful, yet depressing. Like the bagpipes.
Despite a cocoon of pillows and tripled-u
