‘It’s kind of embarrassing, actually,’ Lewis said, trying too hard. ‘I don’t care about money. There are far more important things in life. Like art. And beauty.’
He looked right at Morag as he said this, and Holly was sure she blushed a little. Did Lewis really think this girl was beautiful? She was pretty, Holly supposed, beneath the make-up and hair dye. Lewis had always liked alternative types. He was also into the romantic poets at the moment, and Holly was afraid he might start quoting Keats or fucking Wordsworth.
‘Rich people always say that,’ Jimmy said. ‘That money isn’t important.’
‘I’m going to give all mine away,’ Holly said. ‘When I get access to my trust, I mean.’
The two Scottish siblings stared at her. Oh God, why had she mentioned her trust? She was such a dick.
‘Give it away to me,’ Jimmy said, and his laughter made Holly feel a tiny bit better.
‘Maybe I will.’
For the next couple of hours, they just wandered around, ending up in the graveyard between the visitors’ centre and the church. They sat on a couple of benches among the crooked gravestones, talked about the music and films they liked, and swapped life stories.
‘We had to get the bus to school, over an hour away,’ Jimmy explained, after Lewis had told them that he and Holly went to a grammar school in Birmingham. ‘Place called Plockton. Go Monday morning, stay in lodgings, come back Friday night. I’m glad I’m out of there. Morag still goes. She’s the brainy one. Going to ace her exams and head to uni. Leave me all alone in this shithole.’
‘Jimmy said something about you being a writer?’ Holly said to Morag.
‘I like writing, yeah.’
‘She’s going to be famous,’ Jimmy said. ‘Go and live in Edinburgh or Glasgow. Get rich writing her books.’
‘London, actually,’ Morag said.
‘She’s got dreams. We both have.’
‘What are yours?’
He laughed. ‘I’m going to be a rock star, baby.’
The words came out before Holly could stop them. ‘You’ve got the looks for it.’
‘Why did you have to say that?’ Morag asked drily. ‘His head’s big enough already.’
‘I think it’s awesome,’ Lewis said, about Morag’s literary ambitions. ‘I want to be a writer, too. I’ve been working on my first book of poetry. I could, um, show you if you want?’
‘I guess,’ Morag said.
‘Maybe you could write lyrics for my band,’ Jimmy suggested.
‘What about you, Holly?’ Morag asked. ‘What do you want to do? After you’ve given away all your money?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Holly said, which was true. She didn’t have a clue what she wanted to do with her life. When she tried to see beyond exams and university, all she could see was a void. The great, scary unknown.
‘What’s going on with the arts centre?’ Morag asked, letting Holly off the hook. It seemed like she was trying to act more disinterested than she really was.
‘We don’t know. He’s been distracted recently. Stuff going on with our mum.’ Lewis’s voice caught, and both Jimmy and Morag lifted their eyebrows.
‘She’s dying,’ said Lewis.
‘Fuck.’ Jimmy frowned. ‘Sorry to hear that. What is it? Cancer?’
‘Yeah.’
They were all silent for a little while, until Lewis said, ‘We can definitely hang out at the manor house.’
‘Maybe the caves, too,’ said Morag. ‘Have you heard of them?’
