‘We’re allowed, you know.’
‘I know.’ Izzy gave her a careful, non-threatening smile. ‘It’s fine, I don’t mind at all. I mean, if you wanted to build a fire down here, it wouldn’t be a problem.’
‘Oh, really?’ There was a wealth of relief in the woman’s words. ‘Oh God that would be fantastic. It’s so cold at night. Are you sure it’ll be all right with the owners? I don’t want us to get turfed off.’
Izzy paused, feeling a little self-conscious. She wasn’t that much older than this girl and it felt a bit pretentious to declare that she was the owner. ‘They won’t mind. I know them well.’
‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you. I’ll tell Jim when he gets back. He’s my husband.’
‘I’m Izzy.’
‘I’m Jeanette.’ The girl didn’t look old enough to be married and from the infinitesimal pause and slightly self-conscious use of the word ‘husband’ Izzy wondered how long they’d been married.
‘Are you on your honeymoon?’ she asked.
The wary look filled the woman’s eyes. ‘Yes … well, sort of.’ Hurriedly, she added, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
Surprised by the unexpected invitation, Izzy was about to say no but there was something almost like pleading in the other woman’s expression. ‘That would be lovely if you can spare one.’ She wondered how long the other woman had been here on her own and where her husband was and what he was doing. Izzy felt a little sorry for her; she seemed a bit lost and forlorn.
‘It’s only a teabag and some milk.’ Her chin lifted and Izzy realised that she’d pricked Jeanette’s pride. ‘I keep it in the loch to keep it cold.’
‘That’s a great idea. So how long are you on holiday for?’ Though as far as Izzy was concerned, this was too hard core for her to consider it a holiday. She’d miss her creature comforts after one night.
‘Not long,’ said the woman, her eyes shifting from Izzy’s gaze as she busied herself with a small camping stove and a little tin kettle. Despite Jeanette’s open, honest and youthful face, Izzy felt there was an undertone there.
‘You’ve picked a lovely spot,’ she said, trying to be encouraging and hoping to set the woman at her ease as she seemed quite tense and jumpy.
Jeanette frowned and looked around her as if she’d never really noticed the scenery. ‘Yeah, I s’pose so.’
‘Where are you from? Glasgow?’ Izzy had picked up a strong hint of a Glaswegian accent.
‘Yes.’ Now her voice was filled with suspicion and a definite thread of alarm. ‘How did you know?’
Izzy smiled trying to put her at ease. ‘I grew up in Glasgow; you’ve got the accent.’
‘Oh.’
‘How did you get here? Surely you haven’t walked all the way from Glasgow.’
‘Jim’s got a motorbike. He’s taken it into Fort William this morning.’
‘And you didn’t fancy going with him?’
‘He’s working, casual like.’
‘Ah, I see,’ said Izzy, not seeing at all. It seemed a strange time of year to take an extended wild camping trip.
‘Mmm,’ said Jeanette, not paying much attention.
Just then a man came running out of the trees towards them.
Jeanette went to intercept him and Izzy watched as they held a quickly muttered conversation before they approached her. There was tension in the air now and the man held himself stiffly.
‘Who’s this?’ he asked, gesturing with one thumb.
‘Jim, this is Izzy. She knows the owners of the castle.’
Jim sneered slightly. ‘Nice work if you can get it. I bet they’re rich bastards.’
