Chapter 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.’
‘I can’t drink and drive.’
‘You can have one.’ She lowered her voice. ‘There are no police here. Well, a single cop, but it’s not like you need to worry about being stopped. And there’s no traffic to crash into. Go on, you can have one pint.’
It had been a long journey with multiple legs: a taxi from Brighton to Gatwick, then the flight to Inverness, and finally the long, winding drive here.
‘Go on, then. I’ll have one.’
She kissed me. ‘My wild rock-and-roll boyfriend.’
We took a seat and I sipped my pint, enjoying the heat from the open fire.
On the wall opposite, a painting showed a cave on a hillside with what looked like a giant snake poking its head out of the entrance and surveying its bleak surroundings.
Something about the picture made goose bumps ripple on my arms.
Brenda approached our table. She glanced at me but didn’t ask Holly to introduce us. ‘What can I get you?’
We ordered food from the impressive menu: mac and cheese for me and soup with crusty bread for Holly, who said she wasn’t very hungry.
‘I don’t think Miranda likes me much,’ I said.
‘What? Oh, she’s always like that.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘She’ll be “so tired” after the journey, while the rest of us “just don’t understand the pressure of being a mum and organizing everything”.
’ She waggled her fingers to make air quotes twice during this last sentence, lowering her voice in an impression of her sister.
‘She’s the one who always insists we get together for Hogmanay, then she spends the week almost having a stress-induced breakdown.
Which is obviously ramped up this year because of the Jasmine thing. ’
‘I understand how weird it must be.’
‘I’m not sure you do, though. Your parents are still together.
And my dad has been single since my mum died.
I mean, he’s had the occasional fling. I know he hasn’t been a monk these past eighteen years, but there’s been no one serious.
’ She leaned forward. ‘I’m half-hoping he’ll get here and announce they’ve broken up. ’
‘Really?’ Personally, I was happy I wasn’t going to be the only newcomer here. It took a lot of pressure off.
Holly went on. ‘I know, I know. I need to be happy for him. But I’m still struggling to believe it.
He goes away to Florida, which was out of character as it was.
I’ve never known him go on a beach holiday before.
He usually goes on long hiking trips or to those things where a load of blokes go into the woods and yell at each other.
But off to Miami he trots, and the next thing we know he’s met some American woman and they’re engaged. I can’t get my head round it.’
We’d had this conversation before, and I repeated what I’d said last time.
‘He met a woman, was attracted to her and fell in love with her. Like I fell in love with you.’
‘Yeah, I get that. But why this woman? Why marry her?’
‘Maybe they have a lot in common despite coming from completely different backgrounds.’
She shook her head like this was hard to believe. Holly still refused to acknowledge that she and I had grown up under vastly different circumstances.
‘I want to know what’s so special about her, that’s all.’
Our food arrived. It was exactly what I needed, all carbs and fat, salty and filling.
Holly seemed less enthusiastic, slowly consuming a few spoonfuls before losing interest. This was unlike her.
She usually ate quickly then stole half of mine.
I reached across and stroked her hair, above her ear, and she leaned her head against my hand.
‘Do you think I’m being a brat?’ she asked. ‘A silly little girl who doesn’t want her daddy to find love with a new woman?’
To be honest, I did think she was being a bit childish, not even giving this woman a chance before meeting her, but I also understood how hard it must be.
But before I could reply, Morag appeared by our table.
She was wearing an apron. She had clearly come to the pub from her housekeeping duties. ‘How was it?’
‘Delicious,’ I said.
‘I need the loo.’ Holly got up. As soon as she had gone through the door of the ladies, Morag sat at the table next to mine.
‘I’m sorry if Avril was impolite earlier. She’s just turned eighteen and I can hardly get more than a grunt out of her. Still, I wasn’t much better when I was her age. I was an emo, believe it or not.’
‘Actually, I can.’ Most of the emos I’d met were a bit awkward and shy. Outsiders. ‘Did you know Holly and her brother and sister when you were teenagers?’ I was always keen to hear stories about the younger Holly.
‘Oh aye. We hung around together all the time. Every summer and every Christmas. Has she not told you about it?’
‘A little.’ The truth was, Holly was tight-lipped when it came to her teenage years, presumably because of her mum’s illness. I knew that her mother had died here in 2007. That the whole family had spent one last Christmas and Hogmanay together in 2006.
Morag glanced in the direction of the toilets to see if Holly was coming.
‘Yeah, it was me and Holly and Lewis, along with my brother. Miranda was around, too, but she was three years older than me and Holly and didn’t hang round with us much. She mostly stayed at home, helping to look after her mum.’
I did the maths. In 2006 Holly and Morag would have been seventeen, Lewis eighteen and Miranda twenty.
‘You been seeing each other long?’ Morag asked.
‘Nine months.’
‘The honeymoon period.’
I didn’t ask where Avril’s dad was or if she and him were together, though I noticed she wasn’t wearing any rings. If she’d had Avril as a teenager then it seemed unlikely. At least two jobs and probably a single mother. No wonder she looked so tired.
‘So what do you do, Patrick?’
I hated this question. As I pondered how to answer, Holly came out of the ladies holding her phone to her ear. She pointed at it and went outside into the cold.
‘I’m a delivery driver. Takeaway food.’
She was clearly surprised, but pleased. ‘An honest job. Wouldn’t be much work for you up here. The nearest takeaway is over an hour away, and they don’t do deliveries.’
I couldn’t stop myself saying, ‘It’s not my only job. I’m a film-maker, too.’
I could see it in her eyes. This was what she expected a boyfriend of Holly’s to do. ‘Ah. You make movies?’
‘Documentaries.’
Holly returned and sat beside me. The colour had returned to her cheeks.
‘Patrick here is extremely talented.’ She squeezed my leg. ‘The Disappearing Act. Have you seen it?’
‘Of course she won’t have,’ I said. ‘Nobody has.’
‘That’s not true. It was shown on BBC4.’
‘Once.’
Holly made an exasperated noise. ‘He’s so self-deprecating. It’s a really great film. It won an award.’
‘What’s it about?’
Holly explained. Curtis Carroll was an obscure musician, the type of artist the word ‘cult’ was invented to describe, who had vanished on his way to a gig.
Most people believed he had taken his own life.
Some thought he had been murdered. Others believed he had simply chosen to disappear, sick of pursuing fame and success.
‘And what did happen to him?’ Morag asked.
‘Nobody knows,’ I said. ‘That’s how the film ends, with nothing resolved. The mystery remains.’
Morag pursed her lips. ‘Oh. That sounds …’
‘Unsatisfying? The guy who funded it, who was a massive fan of this musician, expected me to find him, and I really did try, but then all the trails led nowhere and I knew the film would need an open ending. That’s what life’s like, isn’t it? Questions are unanswered. Puzzles remain unsolved.’
‘Yeah, but in films don’t you want a proper ending? I know I do.’ She turned to Holly. ‘What about you?’ Are you still working in that clothes shop?’
‘I am.’
Holly was the assistant manager of a boutique in Brighton’s North Laines.
‘That’s good. Jimmy and I always used to say none of you would ever have to work.’ I presumed Jimmy must be the brother Morag had mentioned. ‘Lewis and Miranda don’t even have jobs, do they?’
‘Miranda’s raising Freddie.’
‘Isn’t he, well, old enough to look after himself? I thought she’d sent him away to boarding school, anyway.’
‘She’s still a parent. She sits on several charitable committees, too.’
‘Right. Our monthly raffle probably requires more work than Miranda’s committees.’
I knew from numerous private conversations with Holly that she was only defending Miranda out of a sense of duty. She frequently complained that Miranda had too much time on her hands and that she spent half her life on internet forums, gossiping about minor celebrities.
‘What about Lewis?’ Morag asked. ‘What does he do all day?’
‘He’s been trying to set up his own business, I think.’
‘That’s good. Making Charles proud. What kind of business is it?’
Holly shrugged. ‘I’m not really sure. Something to do with software development.’
‘Like father like son. Let’s hope he makes a success of it.’
Was I imagining it or was there bitterness in her voice? They had all hung out as teenagers. Had it ended in a massive falling-out?
‘What about you?’ I asked her. ‘Have you always worked here?’
‘Yeah. I got stuck.’
She gave Holly yet another meaningful look then got to her feet. ‘Speaking of being chained to this pub, I’d better get to work. Hope to see more of you, Patrick. My offer before was genuine.’
As soon as she was out of earshot, Holly said, ‘What offer?’
‘She said if I need a break, I know where to find her.’
‘Ha. Of course she did. Well, she can keep her hands off you. You’re mine.’ She dropped her own voice. ‘You know, the reason Morag got “stuck” here is because she got pregnant with Avril when she was seventeen.’
‘I figured she must have had her young.’
‘Yeah. But Avril is grown up now and Morag is still only my age. She talks like she was handed a life sentence, but she could easily change her life. Go to college. Get out of here. She could do anything.’
‘So I was right? You don’t like her.’
‘What? Of course I do. I just get fed up hearing about her hard life. She talks like she has no agency. Yes, she had a baby when she was barely more than a kid, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t have got away from here.’
‘Who was that on the phone before?’ I asked, suddenly keen to change the subject.
I didn’t want to get into an argument about how it wasn’t always that easy to escape your upbringing and see possibilities for yourself.
How it was so much easier for people like Holly, who’d always had the safety net of her family’s money.
Holly was a kind person. She often stopped to talk to homeless people in the streets.
She took part in voluntary clean-ups of Brighton beach.
She was involved in a local scheme to support young people who had been mixed up with drugs.
She cared. But she had a blind spot when it came to her own privilege.
‘The phone? Oh, it was Lewis. He’s arrived. We should get back.’
We were putting our coats on when Brenda came over to collect our dirty plates.
‘I couldn’t help but hear, about your film,’ she said to me. She pronounced it fillum. ‘The big unsolved mystery. We had something like that happen around here back in January.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Aye. A wee English lad, up in the hills.’ She leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Hypothermia. Want to know the weird part? No one knows how he got here. No one saw him, not till he was already frozen stiff, anyway.’