Chapter 10
Holly’s bath appeared to have rejuvenated her. She looked fresh and relaxed as Jasmine and I came through the front door, sleet dripping off us.
‘Look at you,’ Holly said, taking my wet coat then helping Jasmine with hers. ‘Where have you been?’
I told her.
‘Oh.’ Her face fell.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing. I just … I think all this true-crime stuff is beneath you. You could be making more important work.’
I was so stunned that I stumbled over my next words. ‘I don’t …’ I shook my head. ‘I think this is important. Or could be, anyway.’
‘I know, I know. Getting closure for his parents, et cetera. I get that. But your last film was a mystery. Maybe your next one should be more hard-hitting. More political.’
‘What’s all this?’ Lewis appeared, rescuing me from having to explain why I was so drawn to Samir’s story.
I didn’t even fully understand it myself.
Did I identify with this only child who, from what I’d read, had seemed to be shy and awkward, just as I had been as a teenager?
Maybe it was that I felt like no one cared, and my sense of justice made it hard for me to accept that.
I didn’t want to explain that my imagination made me feel like I knew this boy, because I knew that would make me sound a little crazy.
But Holly’s lack of enthusiasm confirmed something: I really wanted to pursue this.
Jasmine filled Lewis in, and he said, ‘Ah, yes, I remember hearing something about that. It happened just after we left last Hogmanay, didn’t it? What an idiot, going out there without sixteen layers on.’
‘We don’t know what happened,’ I said in response. ‘Maybe someone took him out there.’
‘What, murder?’ He scoffed. ‘Seems much more likely he went for a hike without putting on the right gear.’
‘Are you going to tell us about your wedding plans?’ Holly asked Jasmine, changing the subject. ‘Dad hasn’t even told us where you’re planning to do it.’
‘He hasn’t? Oh, well, I’m sure he’ll fill you in soon.’
Holly’s eyes narrowed.
‘Why are you being evasive?’
‘I’m not. We’re just thinking about it still, that’s all.’
Lewis put his hands on Jasmine’s shoulders. ‘You’re shivering. Dad will kill us if we let you die of hypothermia.’
‘Is he up?’ Jasmine asked.
‘He’s in the gym. He came down, took about a million supplements and then went off, saying he needed to work out.’
‘There’s a gym here?’ I asked.
‘In the basement. I think I went down there once, took one look at the barbells and needed a sit-down.’ Lewis made a fainting gesture.
‘You’ve always been a wimp,’ Miranda said, appearing behind me. ‘Reading poems when the other boys were out doing sport. What’s all this about supplements?’
They were all looking at Jasmine, who said, ‘He’s following this programme. Only eating the calories his body needs, taking a lot of vitamins and collagen and whatnot.’
‘Is this to do with that guy who thinks he’s going to live for ever?’ Lewis asked. ‘I saw a documentary about it. Please don’t tell me he wears a device to track his nocturnal erections.’
Jasmine laughed.
‘Oh my God, he does.’
Jasmine put a finger to her own lips. ‘Don’t tell him I told you.’
‘Nocturnal erections?’ Miranda said, almost spluttering.
Zack appeared. ‘This sounds like an interesting conversation.’
‘Did you know about this ridiculous health regime?’ Miranda demanded. ‘Or is this something you’ve got him into, Jasmine?’
‘Hey, I didn’t make him do it.’
‘I thought he looked thin,’ Miranda went on. ‘One of my friend’s husbands ran off with a much younger woman, took up triathlon in a desperate attempt to get fit and died of a heart attack.’
‘You don’t need to worry about any of that,’ Jasmine said. ‘Charles has the heart of a forty-year-old. Even more so since he went vegan.’
‘He’s gone vegan?’ Holly said. ‘That’s amazing.’
‘That’s why he looks so ill,’ Miranda said.
‘He doesn’t look ill at all.’
‘No, I don’t,’ came a voice from behind us. ‘And I feel fucking great.’
Charles had come up from the basement, sweaty in a pair of shorts and a vest top that showed off his greying chest hair and a smattering of hair on his shoulders. His arm muscles bulged and a vein throbbed in his forehead. I wondered how much of the conversation he’d overheard.
‘This is not some snake-oil bullshit,’ he said to Miranda. ‘It’s all science-based. And I’ve been living healthily for years, as you should know. Meeting Jasmine just made me realize I need to take things up a gear.’
He went over and put his arm around his fiancée. ‘ You’re as cold as ice. I’m about to jump in the shower. Why don’t you join me?’
He kissed her, and I studied his three kids. They all looked horrified, including Lewis, though he quickly rearranged his face to try to look unbothered.
Charles and Jasmine went upstairs, and Miranda shuddered. She watched them go, aiming a look at Jasmine’s back that contained more venom than any snake that might have escaped into this house.
‘Disgusting,’ she whispered as we heard a giggle from upstairs and the sound of the bathroom door closing.
‘They are getting married,’ Lewis said. ‘Isn’t it kind of nice to see him happy?’
‘Nice? He’s got no respect. This was Mum’s house.’
‘Mum’s been gone a long time.’
Zack went over to rub her shoulder, but she shrugged him off aggressively.
‘It wouldn’t …’ Miranda swallowed. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad if she was his age. And if she wasn’t Mum’s fucking spitting image. Where did he find her? How did he find her?’
‘I told you,’ Zack said. ‘She was working at the hotel he stayed at in Miami.’
‘So he just happened to stumble across some woman who looks exactly like our mother?’
‘Yes.’
She shook her head. ‘I need a drink.’
She marched into the kitchen, and the rest of us followed her, except Zack, who said he needed to take the dog into the garden. Miranda made a beeline for the drinks cabinet, filling a tumbler with whisky and knocking it back.
Lewis did the same, while Holly demurred.
‘Would you like a whisky, too, mate?’ Lewis asked me.
I accepted gladly. But something was niggling at me.
Zack’s version of how Charles and Jasmine had met was slightly different to Jasmine’s.
But maybe he had shortened the slightly complicated version, which involved two hotels, for the sake of brevity.
Zack was, as far as I could tell, a man who didn’t like to waste too much breath speaking.
Holly, who had been quiet for a while, spoke up.
‘Listen, we’re meant to be on holiday, right? We need to loosen up, have some fun. I’ve got a good idea. Let’s have a games night. It will be a great way to break the ice, get to know Jasmine better.’
‘I’m really not in the mood for games.’ Miranda had already finished her second glass of whisky. Was this her way of coping with Jasmine’s arrival? She didn’t strike me as someone with a drinking problem.
Holly nodded at the glass. ‘A couple more of those and you’ll be up for anything. Come on, sis, it will be fun.’ She leaned closer. ‘You want to know more about Jasmine, right? You know what we can play.’
Miranda got it immediately. It was one of the reasons I’d always yearned to have siblings, to be part of a big family. That secret code. The shared history and knowledge.
‘The truth game,’ she said.
Lewis scoffed. ‘Dad will never play that.’
Holly didn’t agree. ‘I’m sure we can persuade him. He’ll be in a good mood after …’ She lifted her eyes to the ceiling.
‘Urgh,’ Miranda said, but her eyes shone. The idea of getting Jasmine to play this truth game had clearly got her excited. But then she said, ‘I’m going to visit Mum’s grave.’
Holly and Lewis consulted the weather app on their phones – the sleet had stopped and was not forecast to return today – then said they would join her, while Zack announced that he had some work to do.
The grave was in the churchyard behind the visitors’ centre and the three siblings headed out in my and Holly’s rental car, leaving me at a loose end.
I went into the living room and poked at the old iMac, surprised to see the screen come to life, with no password protecting it.
I opened the browser and went straight to Google, intending to do some more research into Samir’s death. I began to type ‘how long does it take to die from hypothermia’ into the search engine, but as soon as I’d typed ‘how long does it take’, the search box auto-completed with a different phrase:
‘How long does it take to drown?’
The result, a page on Reddit, was in purple, suggesting someone had clicked on that link.
But I didn’t think anything of it, not right then, anyway.
I was too busy researching hypothermia and thinking about how I would need to find an expert to explain it if I ever made this film.
By the time I’d finished, I felt chilled myself, as if I was the poor kid who’d died out there in the wilderness.
Lewis and Miranda didn’t get the chance to persuade Charles to play their truth game, or even tell him about their visit to the grave, because when he came downstairs shortly after they returned – while the jet-lagged Jasmine took a nap upstairs – he had an announcement.
The three siblings and I were in the kitchen, where Miranda was about to start making dinner. I had offered to help, but she had told me she didn’t like anyone interfering.
‘Miranda’s a great cook,’ Holly said.
‘I had to learn, didn’t I?’ Miranda had her back to us, chopping vegetables and addressing me. ‘When Mum was sick, I took on that responsibility, along with most of the other chores.’
‘You didn’t have to,’ Lewis said. ‘Dad offered to hire someone.’
‘I wanted to. I promised her I’d look after you. I bet you still don’t know how to cook, either of you.’
Holly shrugged. ‘Patrick usually brings me a takeaway at the end of his shift.’
Lewis, who had kept on drinking through the afternoon, said, ‘What’s it like – being a delivery driver?’
He said it as if he was asking me what it was like to be a professional toilet-scrubber.