‘Have you met her?’ Holly asked. ‘Jasmine, I mean.’
‘You know I haven’t. Zack has, though, of course. You know he was there when she and Dad met? He says she’s lovely. “Very attractive.” Those were his exact words. Although I’m having to use my imagination, seeing as Dad still hasn’t even shared a photo with anyone. If Zack hadn’t met her I’d be wondering if she was a figment of Dad’s imagination.’
Charles, I knew, didn’t use any form of social media, and despite owning a technology company, he wasn’t keen on smartphones. He still used a twenty-year-old digital camera, apparently, and had a phone that Gravitas had developed in the mid-2000s, back when they were thinking about competing with Nokia and Motorola.
‘I still can’t believe you didn’t take a photo when you met her,’ Miranda said.
This was clearly not the first, second or even tenth time Zack had heard this. ‘What was I supposed to do? Say,Sorry, can I take your picture to show my nosy wife?’
‘Nosy? She’s going to be our new stepmother.’
Holly spluttered with laughter. ‘Stepmother! She’s younger than me!’
‘Ten years younger than Mum was when she passed. I don’t know how he could do this to us? What’s so special about her? She’s not even in our social circles. She works in a hotel. As a receptionist.’
I had to force myself not to laugh.
‘I’m afraid my wife is a massive snob,’ Zack said to me. ‘You do remember that I grew up on a council estate, don’t you, babe?’
She winced. ‘Please do not call me that. You’ve made something of yourself. Worked your way up. And I am not a snob.’
‘Some of your best friends are peasants.’
Miranda acted like she hadn’t heard this. ‘I suppose at leastwe should be grateful Dad had the snip after you were born, Holly. We don’t need to worry about, well…’
That was interesting. Their dad’s plan to remarry had made at least one of the Grant siblings worry about the impact on their inheritance, something Holly hadn’t mentioned to me at all. As someone who stood to inherit nothing– possibly some debt and a few knick-knacks– I couldn’t help but think this was selfish. But it was also understandable.
‘I need a drink,’ Miranda said, heading towards the kitchen. ‘We should still have some bottles of that nice Beaujolais left.’
‘Are you hungry?’ Holly asked me. I was. ‘Lewis won’t be here for a couple of hours. Let’s go to the pub.’
We found our coats and went outside, Zack following us. I watched as he opened the boot of their Audi and hefted out a pair of Louis Vuitton cases.
‘Are you sure you don’t have any photos of Jasmine?’ Holly asked him before we got into our rental car. I could see Miranda through the kitchen window, opening a bottle of wine.
He smiled. ‘I don’t.’
‘But she’s hot, right? She must be.’
His expression was enigmatic. ‘You’ll find out tomorrow,’ was all he would say.
4
The Bay Inn was located a pebble’s throw from the sea, at the far end of a long row of houses that hugged the gentle curve of the shore. This was the closest Applecross got to a village. The total population of the peninsula was just over five hundred and, right now, they all seemed to be hiding indoors.
We pulled up in front of the row of houses, behind Morag’s red Fiat, and I hurried after Holly, who walked fast, head down against the wind. A few street lights illuminated the tide as it lapped against the narrow, pebbled beach.
The pub was blissfully warm, the smell of ale and food making my stomach rumble. It was five thirty on the Monday between Christmas and New Year– or Hogmanay, as Holly had stressed I needed to call it here– and the pub was quiet, with just a few people, all men, sitting at tables with their pints in front of them. There was a woman in her sixties, with steel-grey hair, and a pair of glasses hanging from a chain around her neck, behind the bar. She watched Holly intently as we approached.
‘Hi, Brenda,’ Holly said. This, I knew, was Morag’s mother. Brenda Hamilton. The landlady.
‘Morag told me you’d arrived.’ Brenda’s gaze went to the door. ‘Just you so far, is it?’
‘And Miranda and Zack. Lewis should get here tonight.’
Brenda grunted.
‘What are you having?’ Holly asked me, her voice bright, despite Brenda’s unfriendliness. ‘They brew their own beer here.’
