Chapter 5
‘Was he a hiker?’ I asked, assuming Brenda was being over-dramatic. You hear about this kind of thing often. Hikers and tourists, unprepared for the weather to take a turn for the worse, probably not accustomed to the conditions in the Highlands.
‘You’re not getting it.’ Brenda pulled up a chair and gestured for me to sit back down.
Holly remained standing, looking annoyed.
‘He hadn’t told anyone he was going to be here.
Nobody knows what he was doing on the peninsula.
He wasn’t dressed for hiking. The people who found him said it was like he’d dropped out of the sky.
Like, poof. One second he’s nowhere, and the next, there he is – dead. ’
She was very blunt.
‘This was in January?’ I asked, with a shiver. Involuntarily, I inched away from her and closer to the open fire.
‘Aye. First week of the new year. Almost exactly a year ago.’
‘Did you know about this, Holly?’ I asked.
‘I vaguely remember hearing about it when we were here in the summer, but it must have happened just after our last New Year visit.’
Brenda sniffed. ‘I’m not surprised you only remember it vaguely. If it doesn’t affect the Grants directly …’
I stared at Brenda and waited for Holly to react. She didn’t.
‘What was the wee lad’s name?’ Brenda said to herself. ‘Samir Anand, that was it. From some place down south. Near Birmingham, where youse lot are from, Holly. Coventry? Guess what the daft bastard was wearing when they found him? Trainers, jeans and a T-shirt.’
I could feel it taking hold. That tingle of intrigue. The same one that had got me interested in Curtis Carroll.
Holly checked the time on her phone. ‘We ought to get back. Lewis is going to be wondering where we are.’
But Brenda ignored her. And I admit, I did, too. I wanted to hear the rest of this story. Holly sat back down, resigned. She knew what I was like.
‘They said his parents last saw him on New Year’s Day. Three days later a sheep farmer found his body here, a thousand miles from where he was last seen.’
‘Are you really saying no one saw him arrive?’
There was no train station in Applecross. The only way in was by car or, I assumed, bus.
‘Maybe you weren’t listening properly.’ Brenda seemed to be relishing telling me this story.
I guessed it was because it was the most exciting thing that had happened here in a long time.
‘The police went door to door and showed everyone the daft wee bugger’s picture.
Nothing.’ A shake of the head. ‘His poor mum and dad. Never seen two people look so broken. They came in here to get something to eat and just sat there like the world had ended.’
‘Is it that surprising that no one saw him?’ I asked. ‘It’s beautiful round here, but it’s not like it’s a thriving metropolis. It seems like it would be pretty easy to wander around without encountering anyone.’
‘Aye. But how did he get here? He hadn’t passed his driving test yet, so he couldn’t have driven up. There’s no record of him buying a bus ticket. None of his pals had given him a lift.’
We were on a peninsula, surrounded by sea. ‘Could he have arrived by boat?’
‘The police’ – she pronounced it po-lis – ‘spoke to everyone around here who has a boat. No one brought him. And we’d notice if an unknown boat turned up.
’ I realized that what I’d thought was relish in telling this story was more like an urgent need for me to listen to her.
There was an ache in her voice, as if she genuinely cared for this kid she’d never met.
‘Besides, Coventry’s as land-locked as you can get, aye?
It’s not as if you can sail here from there. ’
I noticed Holly studying me. ‘Oh God. You’ve got that look in your eye,’ she said.
‘What look?’
‘You know exactly what I mean.’
Holly and I hadn’t yet met when I made The Disappearing Act.
She hadn’t witnessed how obsessed I had become with trying to find the whereabouts of Curtis Carroll.
How making the film, which I had done with a tiny crew, just me, a camera person and a sound man, had taken over my life for around a year.
As soon as I was done, I had started to think about what was next – because even though the experience had been exhausting and stressful, it had proved to me that this really was what I wanted to do with my life.
The praise the film had received from critics, and the award it won, gave me encouragement.
All I needed was my next subject. A story big enough to fill a ninety-minute film.
Could this be it?
‘That’s where they found him,’ Brenda said.
I had been miles away, and her voice brought me back into the room, into the pub, which had filled up while we were talking.
The fire continued to burn in the hearth, and a new member of staff had appeared, carrying food to tables and clearing glasses.
It was, I realized, Avril, Morag’s daughter.
Brenda’s granddaughter. She looked as sullen now as she had at the house.
Working at her gran’s pub, where her mum also worked.
Did she feel that her life was already mapped out for her?
It wasn’t dissimilar, really, to the Grant family’s lives, even though Lewis, from what I knew, was the only one who had worked directly for Charles.
Miranda had married Charles’s right-hand man and Holly had told me she’d never had any interest in the corporate world.
But they were all, to some degree, reliant on the fortunes of the company, in the same way that the Hamiltons – Brenda, Morag, Avril – relied on this pub.
Brenda pointed at one of the paintings on the wall. It was the picture of the cave in the hills, a serpent poking its head out into the mountain air.
‘Just outside that cave,’ she said, looking directly at my girlfriend. ‘It’s a couple of miles from here, up in the hills. Holly knows it. Isn’t that right, hen?’
Holly’s phone pinged.
‘It’s Lewis again,’ she said, getting to her feet, apparently relieved. ‘We really need to get going.’
Brenda sneaked a glance at Holly and leaned closer to me, so close I could smell the cigarettes on her breath.
‘This seems exactly the sort of thing someone should make a film about, don’t you agree? Mysterious deaths at the caves.’
‘Deaths plural?’
To my surprise, Brenda looked like she was about to burst into tears. She had a cross on a chain around her neck and she clutched it in her fist.
‘Patrick, come on,’ Holly said.
She seemed nervous. I had no idea what was going on. But I was growing more intrigued with every passing second. Was Samir not the first person to die at these caves?
‘Who would I talk to?’ I asked Brenda. ‘If I wanted to find out more about the investigation? You said the police interviewed everyone? Is there a local station?’
‘I told you,’ said Holly, ‘there aren’t any cops here.’ She sounded irritated now. Exasperated that I still wasn’t leaving.
‘There is one, actually,’ Brenda said. ‘Susan Williams. She’s based in Inverness – that’s the nearest station – but she lives here. She’s the person you’d want to talk to.’
Holly made an impatient gesture and headed towards the door. But when I tried to follow Brenda caught my arm.
She had her back to Holly and she leaned in close.
‘How much do you know about them?’ she whispered.
‘Pardon?’
‘The Grants. This your first time meeting them?’
Holly was over by the door, waiting for me, a puzzled expression on her face. I confirmed that it was the first time I’d met the Grants.
‘And Holly has never told you what happened here? When they were kids?’
I could tell she wanted to tell me, whatever it was, but Holly looked like she was about to come over again.
‘You seem normal,’ Brenda said before I moved to join my girlfriend. ‘Be careful. Especially with him. Charles Grant.’ She narrowed her eyes and a look of pure disgust crossed her face. ‘That lot buying a home here was the worst thing that ever happened to this place.’
I stared at her, and her expression changed. ‘You have a good night, though.’
Outside, I said to Holly, ‘What was she talking about? Something about someone else who died at these caves?’
‘Oh God. We’ve been here five minutes and she’s already—’ She broke off. ‘I can’t do this now, Patrick. Another time, I promise.’
She walked to the car and I waited a moment before joining her. A boy who had appeared out of nowhere before being found dead? Another death at the same place? Nobody willing to talk about it?
I thought about what Brenda had said. Holly has never told you what happened here when they were kids?
She hadn’t, and now was not the time to press, but I could almost picture it already. The opening credits, the camera panning across the frozen landscape, settling on the entrance to these caves. A voiceover, setting the scene …
Samir’s death on its own might not be enough for a whole documentary. But there was definitely a story here.
Was it, though, a story that involved my girlfriend’s family?