Holly came over to join me, her coat rustling as she walked. ‘Ready?’ she asked.
I hesitated. Iwasnervous, even though I knew none of the family would have arrived yet.
Holly sensed it and put her arm around me. ‘Be afraid,’ she said.
‘Oh my God, are you about to tell me to be very afraid?’
The Flywas another of our joint favourite movies. The first time Holly had seen my wardrobe she’d joked I was like Jeff Goldblum because, like his character, I always wore the same clothes: in my case, 501s, Converse and a black sweater or T-shirt.
‘I’m joking. Obviously.’ Then her expression turned serious.Things might actually get a bit intense this week. But I want you to know that whatever happens, me and you—’
She never finished the sentence. Because somewhere inside the house, a woman let out a scream.
2
I ran across the gravel, Holly a couple of steps behind me. The front door stood ajar and I went directly into a grand hallway, Holly following me in.
I hesitated, not knowing the layout, taking in the wood-panelled walls, the grandfather clock, the musty smell of a place that hadn’t been occupied for six months. Holly marched past me and disappeared through a door towards the far end of the hallway.
I followed her into what turned out to be the kitchen, which had windows showing a view of the back garden, along with a back door which stood open, letting in a blast of icy air.
A woman stood in the middle of the room.
She was, I found out later, thirty-six, the same age as me and Holly. She was wearing a green fleece and jeans, dirty trainers on her feet, and her hair was dark and curly and tied back with a scrunchie. There were spots of ruddy colour on her cheeks and circles of tiredness beneath a pair of brown eyes. Beside Holly, with her carefully applied make-up and long, straightened red hair, she appeared earthy, rustic, and it struck me that a picture of them side by side could be used to illustrate the city girl versus her country cousin.
‘Morag,’ Holly said. ‘What happened? We heard a scream.’
Morag Hamilton was the Grants’ housekeeper. She kept an eye on the place when it was empty, which was forty-eightweeks a year. I’d asked Holly why they didn’t rent it out as an AirBnB, and she’d replied, ‘Dad would never have strangers staying in his house.’
The way the back door stood open, I was sure Morag was going to say she had interrupted an intruder. Instead, she pointed at the floor beneath the breakfast table and, hardly able to get the words out, said, ‘A snake.’
I took a step back, away from where she was pointing.
‘It must have been Hamish,’ Morag went on, with a glance towards the garden.
‘Who’s Hamish?’ I asked. I was confused. Was that the name of the snake?
‘Hamish is a cat,’ Holly said. ‘A tomcat who roams the peninsula. He’s a cutie.’
‘Yeah, and that cutie brought a fucking snake into the kitchen.’ Morag was out of breath, eyes darting around the room.
‘What kind of snake?’ I asked. ‘A slowworm?’
‘An adder.’
Britain’s only venomous snake. I’d never seen one in real life, only in books. I didn’t ever want to.
Holly stayed calm. ‘Where is it now? Is it still in here?’
‘I don’t think so. I think it went out through the back door.’
‘Youthink?’
Morag was clearly shaken. ‘I’m not sure, okay? I thought I was going to have a panic attack.’
‘Oh, come here.’ Holly approached Morag and drew her into a hug, though Morag remained rigid with tension as Holly attempted to soothe her by patting her back. ‘Patrick will take a look.’
‘Me?’
