Bel felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Exclusive access was every hacks wet dream. Usually she had to work her arse off to get it. But here it was, on a plate and for free. Still, let him keep on thinking that she was the one doing him a favour. And whats in it for me? Apart from becoming the journalist that all the others love to hate?
The thin line of Grants lips compressed further and his chest rose as he breathed deeply. I will talk to you. The words came out as if theyd been ground between a pair of millstones. It was clearly meant to be a moment reminiscent of Moses descending from Mount Sinai.
Bel was determined not to be impressed. Excellent. Shall we make a start then? She reached into her bag and produced a digital recorder. I know this is not going to be easy for you, but I need you to tell me about Catriona. Well get to the kidnapping and its consequences, but were going to have to go back before that. I want to have a sense of what she was like and what her life was like.
He stared into the middle distance and for the first time Bel saw a man who looked his seventy-two years. Im not sure Im the best person for that, he said. We were too alike. It was always head to head with me and Catriona. He pushed himself out of the armchair and went back to the billiard table. She was always volatile, even when she was wee. She had toddler tantrums that could shake the walls of this place. She grew out of the tantrums but not out of the tempers. Still, she could always charm her way right back into your good graces. When she put her mind to it. He glanced up at Bel and smiled. She knew her own mind. And you couldnt shift her once she was set on something.
Grant moved round the table, studying the balls, lining up his next shot. And she had talent. When she was a child, you never saw her without a pencil or a paintbrush in her hand. Drawing, painting, modelling with clay. She never stopped. She didnt grow out of it like most kids do. She just got better at it. And then she discovered glass. He bent over the table and stunned the cue ball into the red, slotting it into the middle pocket. He respotted the red and studied the angles.
You said you were always head to head with each other. What were the flashpoints? Bel said when he showed no sign of continuing his reminiscences.
Grant gave a little snort of laughter. Anything and everything. Politics. Religion. Whether Italian food was better than Indian. Whether Mozart was better than Beethoven. Whether abstract art had any meaning. Whether we should plant beech or birch or Scots pine in the Check Bar wood. He straightened up slowly. Why she didnt want to take over the company. That was a big one. I didnt have a son then. And Ive never had a problem with women in business. I saw no reason why she shouldnt take over MGE once shed learned how it all works. She said shed rather stick needles in her eyes.
She didnt approve of MGE? Bel asked.
No, it wasnt anything to do with the company or its policies. What she wanted was to be an artist in glass. Sculpting, blowing, casting - anything you could do with glass, she wanted to be the best. And that didnt leave any room for building roads or houses.
That must have been a disappointment.
Broke my heart. Grant cleared his throat. I did everything I could to talk her out of it. But she wouldnt be talked out of it. She went behind my back, applied for a place at Goldsmiths in London. And she got it. He shook his head. I was all for cutting her adrift without a penny, but Mary - my wife, Cats mother - she shamed me into agreeing to support her. She pointed out that, for somebody who hated being in the public eye, Id be throwing a hell of a bone to the tabloids. So I let myself be talked into it. He gave a wry smile. Almost reconciled myself to it too. And then I found out what was really going on.
Wednesday 13th December 1978; Rotheswell Castle
Brodie Grant swung the Land Rover into a gravel-scattering turn and ground to a halt yards from the kitchen door of Rotheswell Castle. He stamped into the house, a chocolate Lab at his heels. He strode through the kitchen, leaving a swirl of freezing air in his wake, barking at the dog to stay. He moved through the house with the speed and certainty of a man who knows precisely where he is going.
At last he burst into the prettily decorated room where his wife indulged her passion for quilting. Did you know about this? he said. Mary looked up, startled. She could hear the rush of his breathing from across the room.
About what, Brodie? she said. Shed been married to a force of nature long enough not to be ruffled by a grand entrance.
You talked me into this. He threw himself into a low armchair, struggling to untangle his legs. Its what she wants, Brodie. Shell never forgive you if you stand in her way, Brodie. You followed your dreams, Brodie. Let her follow hers. Thats what you said. So I did. Against my better judgement, I said I would back her up. Finance her bloody degree. Keep my mouth shut about what a bloody waste of time it is. Stop reminding her how few artists ever make any kind of a living from their self-indulgent bloody carry-on. Not till theyre dead, anyway. He banged his fist on the arm of the chair.
Mary continued piecing her fabric and smiled. You did, Brodie. And Im very proud of you for it.
And now look where its got us. Look whats really going on.
Brodie, Ive no idea what youre talking about. Do you think you could explain? And with due consideration for your blood pressure? Shed always had the gift of gently teasing him out of his extreme positions. But today, it wasnt working well. Brodies dander was up, and it was going to take more than an application of sweet reason to restore him to his normal humour.
Ive been out with Sinclair. Checking the drives for the shoot on Friday.
And how were the drives?
Perfectly fine. Theyre always fine. Hes a good keeper. But thats not the point, Mary. His voice rose again, incongruous in the cosy room with its stacked riot of fabrics on the shelves.
No, Brodie. I realize that. What is the point, exactly?
Fergus bloody Sinclair, thats what. I told Sinclair. Back in the summer, when his bloody son was sniffing round Cat. I told him to keep the boy away from my daughter, and I thought hed listened to me. But now this. He waved his hands as if he was throwing a pile of hay in the air.
Mary finally put down her work. Whats the matter, Brodie? Whats happened?
Its whats going to happen. You know how we breathed a sigh of relief when he signed up for his bloody estate management degree at Edinburgh? Well, it turns out that wasnt the only iron in his bloody fire. Hes only gone and accepted a place at London University. Hes going to be in the same bloody city as our daughter. Hell be all over her like a rash. Bloody gold-digging peasant. He scowled and smacked his fist down on the chair again. Im going to settle his hash, you see if I dont.
To his astonishment, Mary was laughing, rocking back and forward at her piecing table, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. Oh, Brodie, she gasped. I cant tell you how funny this is.
Funny? he howled. That bloody boys going to ruin Cat and you think its funny?
Its whats going to happen. You know how we breathed a sigh of relief when he signed up for his bloody estate management degree at Edinburgh? Well, it turns out that wasnt the only iron in his bloody fire. Hes only gone and accepted a place at London University. Hes going to be in the same bloody city as our daughter. Hell be all over her like a rash. Bloody gold-digging peasant. He scowled and smacked his fist down on the chair again. Im going to settle his hash, you see if I dont.
To his astonishment, Mary was laughing, rocking back and forward at her piecing table, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. Oh, Brodie, she gasped. I cant tell you how funny this is.
Funny? he howled. That bloody boys going to ruin Cat and you think its funny?
Mary jumped to her feet and crossed the room to her husband. Ignoring his protests, she sat on his lap and ran her fingers through his thick hair. Its all right, Brodie. Everythings going to be fine.
I dont see how. He jerked away from her hand.
Me and Cat, weve been trying to figure out how to tell you for the past week.
Tell me what, woman?
Shes not going to London, Brodie.
He straightened up, almost toppling Mary on to the floor. What do you mean, not going to London? Is she giving up this daftness? Is she coming to work with me?
Mary sighed. Dont be silly. You know in your heart shes doing what she should be doing. No, shes been offered a scholarship. Its a combination of academic study and working in a designer glass factory. Brodie, its absolutely the best training in the world. And they want our Catriona.
For a long moment, he allowed himself to be torn between pride and fear. Where about? he said at last.
Its not so far, Brodie. Mary ran the back of her hand down his cheek. Its only Sweden.
Sweden? Bloody Sweden? Jesus Christ, Mary. Sweden?
You make it sound like the ends of the earth. You can fly there from Edinburgh, you know. It takes less than two hours. Honestly, Brodie. Listen to yourself. This is wonderful. Its the best possible start for her. And you wont have to worry about Fergus being in the same place. Hes not likely to turn up in a small town between Stockholm and Upsala, is he?
Grant put his arms round his wife and rested his chin on her head. Trust you to find the silver lining. His mouth curled in a cruel smile. Its certainly going to put Fergus bloody Sinclairs gas at a peep.
Thursday 28th June 2007; Rotheswell Castle
So you argued with Cat about boyfriends as well? Bel said.
Was it all of them, or just Fergus Sinclair in particular?
She didnt have that many boyfriends. She was too focused on her work. She went out for a few months with one of the sculptors at the glass factory. I met him a couple of times. Swedish, but a sensible enough lad all the same. I could see she wasnt serious, though, so there was no need to argue about him. But Fergus Sinclair was a different kettle of fish. He paced the perimeter of the table, the anger obvious. The police never took him seriously as a suspect, but I wondered at the time whether he might have been behind what happened to Cat and Adam. He certainly couldnt accept it when she finally cut the ties between them. And he couldnt accept that she wouldnt acknowledge him as Adams father. At the time, I thought it was possible he took the law into his own hands. Though its hard to see him having the wit to put something that complicated together.
But Cat continued her relationship with Fergus after she went to Sweden?
Tiredness seemed suddenly to hit Grant and he dropped back into the chair opposite Bel. They were very close. Theyd run about together when they were kids. I should have put a stop to it but it never crossed my mind that it would ever come to anything. They were so different. Cat with her art and Sinclair with no more ambition than to follow his father into keepering. Different class, different aspirations. The only thing that I could see pulling them together was that life had landed them in the same place. So yes, when she came back in the holidays and he was around, they got back together again. She made no secret of it, even though she knew how I felt about Sinclair. I kept hoping shed meet someone she deserved but it never happened. She kept going back to Sinclair.
And yet you didnt sack his father? Move him off the estate?
Grant looked shocked. Good God, no. Have you any idea how hard it is to find a keeper as good as Willie Sinclair? You could interview a hundred men before youd find one with his instincts for the birds and the land. A decent man, too. He knew his son wasnt in Cats league. He was ashamed that he couldnt stop Fergus chasing Cat. He wanted to bar him from the family home, but his wife wouldnt have it. He shrugged. I cant say I blame her. Women are always soft with their sons.
Bel tried to hide her surprise. Shed assumed Grant would stop at nothing to have his own way where his daughter was concerned. He was apparently more complex than shed given him credit for. What happened after she came back from Sweden?
Grant rubbed his face with his hands. It wasnt pretty. She wanted to move out. Set up a studio where she could work and sell things from, somewhere with living quarters attached. She had her eye on a couple of properties on the estate. I said the price of my support was that she stop seeing Sinclair. For the first time, Bel saw sadness seeping round the edges of the simmering anger. It was stupid of me. Mary said so at the time, and she was right. They were both furious with me, but I wouldnt give in. So Cat went her own way. She spoke to the Wemyss estate and rented a property from them. An old gatehouse with what had been a logging shed, set back from the main road. Perfect for attracting customers. A parking area in front of the old gates, studio and display space, and living quarters tucked away behind the walls. All the privacy you could want. And everybody knew. Catriona Maclennan Grant had gone to the Wemyss estate to spite her old man.
If she needed your support, how did she pay for it all? Bel asked.
Her mother equipped the studio, paid the first years rent and stocked the kitchen till Cat started selling pieces. He couldnt suppress a smile. Which didnt take long. She was good, you know. Very good. And her mother saw to it that all her friends went there for wedding presents and birthday gifts. I was never angrier with Mary than I was then. I was outraged. I felt thwarted and disrespected and it really did not help when bloody Sinclair came back from university and picked up where hed left off.
Were they living together?
No. Cat had more sense than that. I look back at it now and I sometimes think she only went on seeing him to spite me. It didnt last that long after shed set the studio up. It was pretty much over about eighteen months beforebefore she died.
Bel did her mental arithmetic and came up with the wrong answer. But Adam was only six months old when they were kidnapped. So how could Fergus Sinclair be his father if he split up with Cat eighteen months earlier?
Grant sighed. According to Mary, it wasnt a clean break. Cat kept telling Sinclair it was over but he wouldnt take no for an answer. These days, youd call it harassment. Apparently he kept turning up with a pathetic puppy face and Cat didnt always have the strength to send him away. And then she got pregnant. He stared at the floor. Id always imagined what it would be like to be a grandfather. To see the family line continue. But when Cat told us, all I felt was anger. That bastard Sinclair had wrecked her future. Saddled her with his child, ruined her chances of the career shed dreamed of. The one good thing she did was refuse to have anything more to do with him. She wouldnt acknowledge him as the father, she wouldnt see him or talk to him. She made it plain that, this time, it really was over and done.