‘But I don’t—’
Holly and Lewis entered the room, and Jasmine shot me a look: don’t say a word.
I stayed quiet, even though I was sure it hadn’t been Miranda’s doing. Surely even she wouldn’t do something like that.
‘Goodnight,’ Jasmine said in a clipped tone, leaving the room.
‘That went well,’ Lewis said, after we’d all heard her go upstairs.
‘I blame you,’ snapped Holly. ‘Why do you and Miranda always have to act like children? Miranda goes on about being the person who keeps this family together, but it’s always me who has to smooth things over.’ A shake of the head. ‘We didn’t even get Jasmine to tell us anything about herself.’
‘It could have been worse,’ Lewis said.
‘How?’
He paused. ‘Think about all the truths we could have told.’
12
Summer 2006
Holly
‘Hey. Will you go in and buy us some cans?’
Holly and Lewis were outside the village shop. The boy’s accent was so broad that it took Holly a few seconds to figure out what he was saying. He looked like he was plenty old enough to buy beer himself, and so did the girl with him, the emo with the dyed-black hair and the thick eyeliner.
Holly recognized them, of course. Jimmy and Morag. They’d been around ever since the Grants had first started coming here. They’d looked ordinary the last time Holly had seen them, kind of square in fact, but now Morag looked like she’d rather be in her bedroom listening to My Chemical Romance. Jimmy was alternative-looking, too, in a long black coat and black Converse below skinny jeans. And he certainly wasn’t ordinary-looking any more. He had long, thick hair and the most ridiculous cheekbones she’d ever seen.
‘Why don’t you buy them yourself?’ Lewis asked.
‘Because we’re skint.’
‘And you assume we’re not?’
Jimmy raised an eyebrow. ‘I know you’re not. But if you’regoing to be a dick…’ He turned to Morag. ‘See, I told you they wouldn’t want to help us out.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Lewis said quickly. He was looking at Morag. ‘I’m amenable to the idea.’
Jimmy grinned. ‘Amenable, eh? That’s the kind of word Morag here would use in one of her stories.’ He laughed. ‘You remember us, right? Our mum runs the pub.’
‘Of course. Though if your mum works at the pub, why can’t you steal booze from there?’
Morag responded to that. ‘We could. But if she caught us, she’d kill us.’
That was how the two pairs of siblings became friends. Holly and Lewis, Jimmy and Morag. Lewis, who at eighteen was a year older than Holly, went in to the shop and came out with a six-pack of Tennent’s.
‘Maybe we can hang out up there some time,’ Jimmy said, pointing up at the manor house on the hill. ‘Your dad owns it now, aye?’
Holly and Lewis exchanged an awkward look.
‘Must be grand,’ Morag said.
‘What must?’
‘Being loaded.’
Holly inwardly winced. When they’d first come to Applecross, they hadn’t exactly been anonymous, but people left them alone, pretending not to know that Charles was famous. But then, back at the beginning of the summer, Dad had stood up in front of the whole village and announced his great plans. Started to flaunt how rich he was. Even though Holly approved of what her dad was planning to do with the money, it still made her cringe.
