Her eyes shone as she remembered, and I remained quiet, letting her enjoy the memory.
‘When Elizabeth’s cancer came back, Holly and Lewis told me their dad seemed dazed, unable to believe it was happening. Then they found out it was terminal… This was just beforeI actually met Holly and Lewis. Earlier in the summer, when Charles made the announcement about the arts centre, we hadn’t met yet. By the time the four of us started hanging out, Elizabeth already had the terminal diagnosis. And they came back here again so she could spend her final Christmas and Hogmanay in Scotland. They told me that Charles promised her he would still open the arts centre and name it after her.’
‘And he broke his promise?’
‘Yeah. He said it was because he encountered all these problems that made it impossible. There was asbestos in the roof, all sorts of planning regulations getting in the way, an environmental group who said the work was going to disturb the local wildlife. Apparently loads of adders had made their nests in the grounds, and they’re a protected species.’
I thought about the adder that had got into the Grants’ kitchen– and Jasmine’s bag.
‘I’m sure if Elizabeth had still been alive, Charles would have overcome all those problems. Instead, he gave up. And yeah, I know, he’d lost his wife, he was a grieving widower, but…’
She didn’t complete the sentence.
‘Weren’t the people around here sympathetic?’ I asked.
‘A little, at first, anyway. But then the resentment set in. Obviously, everyone was massively disappointed that all the jobs and money weren’t going to materialize, but I think they would have got over it if he hadn’t refused to sell the land back to them. He still owns it and has let it sit there, rotting, like a blemish, ruining the landscape. It’s made a lot of people very angry.’
‘And that’s why no one is helping search for Jasmine.’
She nodded. ‘We’re here.’
Through the swirling snow I was just able to make out my car, which was completely covered in the stuff. Morag pulledover, keeping the engine and headlights switched on, the car angled so the beams were directed at the wall of rock.
There was the entrance to the cave and, just about visible, the little building I thought I’d hallucinated, a smudge of grey through the white.
‘That’s the bothy,’ Morag said.
‘Can we take a look?’
‘You think Jasmine might be sheltering in there?’
It has to be worth checking.’ I paused, looking at the entrance to the cave. ‘God, this place. Jimmy, Lewis. And that’s where Samir’s body was found.’
Morag blinked at me, apparently surprised at the change of subject. ‘Yeah. Mum shouldn’t have told you about that. You’re not really thinking of making a film about it, are you?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. I’m actually a little scared of what I might find.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Just… Well, I’m starting to worry there might be a connection between Samir and the Grants.’
She stared at me.
‘I’m probably completely wrong. It’s only because they’re both from the same part of England.’
‘That’s tenuous.’
Was it me, or had she grown tense during this conversation?
‘There was something else, too. I spoke to the podcaster who was looking into the case. She told me she had mysterious messages from someone who says they saw Samir.’
‘Right.’
‘When I mentioned this to Zack he said the message was probably a hoax. That’s what Zack said. A fantasist.’
She didn’t look tense any more. She looked terrified. ‘You told Zack about the messages?’
‘Yes, just before, in the pub. Morag, what’s the matter?’
