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Hannah smiled. “How is Yvonne? I hope you’ve got your best behaviour ready for your mother-in-law.”
Mark gave a sigh. “Don’t remind me. T minus four hours until she arrives. I need to go to the station and collect her. I don’t even have the excuse of going to the pub for a drink with you tomorrow morning to get out of the house.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Hannah. “I’d invite you up here for a drink, but it would probably take you until next week to get here. It is heavenly, though.”
“Heavenly?” Mark paused with his rustling. “Heavenly? I’ve never heard you say that without a hint of sarcasm. What the hell has happened up there?”
“Oh, you know, rolling hills, lochs, whisky…” Hannah felt like the cat who’d got the cream.
“Don’t you hate whisky?” Mark asked.
“Well, yes.” Hannah paused, before continuing. “But I’ve met someone who quite likes it.”
“Oh,” said Mark, elongating the vowel. “You’ve met someone. Now I see.”
“Mmm,” said Hannah, not sure how far she wanted to get into this now.
“Come on then, tell me about him.” Mark’s voice was upbeat. He wanted the gossip.
“Well, er, actually her,” Hannah said. She closed her eyes as she said it. Just saying Lottie’s pronoun in this conversation seemed significant.
“Oh, right,” said Mark, slowly, as if he was gathering his thoughts. “Good for you.”
Hannah smiled into her phone. She knew he didn’t mean to be patronising. “Anyway,” she said, “I’m not sure where this is going exactly. But I’m doing OK.”
“Great. I’m glad to hear it,” said Mark. “Have the police been back in touch with you yet?”
Hannah shook her head. “Not the Met, no, but then I’ve been in a communications black spot for the last twenty-four hours. I’ll call the officer in a bit and find out if there’ve been any developments.” She cleared her throat. “The local PC has been up to the castle to check in, which was great.”
“Excellent,” said Mark. “They’ve asked all of us at the studio to be on the look-out for anything strange, and all the presenters have markers on their addresses, so if they call 999 they’ll be prioritised.”
Hannah pressed her lips together. “I feel weirdly responsible for all this drama.”
“Well, you need to forget about that,” said Mark. “Forget about all of this. Enjoy Scotland. And this woman you’ve met.”
Hannah could hear the smile in his voice. “Lottie,” she said, quietly.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
LOTTIE
Freya spent the first fifteen minutes of the walk asking Lottie incessant questions about Hannah: “Did she tell you what it was like meeting the King when she did that interview? Did you fancy her at university? When did this all start? Do you love her?”
Lottie kept her counsel. She understood Freya’s curiosity, but she didn’t want to talk about anything to do with Hannah until she’d had a proper conversation with Hannah herself. Lottie had a million questions of her own about herself and Hannah. In the back of her mind there was a fear that now Hannah had realised that she might be attracted to women – or at least some women – she would happily skip off into the sunset and live out her lesbian dreams, leaving Lottie behind.
This morning was about Freya and Zack, and she resolved to concentrate on them.
Finally, Zack interjected. “Lottie will run and jump into the loch if you’re not careful,” he said, gently nudging Freya’s elbow with his own.
Freya gave an audible sigh, but took on his advice. Lottie nodded at him in thanks.
“I love how the snow makes all the trees look so festive,” said Zack, marvelling at the propensity of the long fir branches to hold onto the white flakes in small drifts.
“Oh yes,” said Lottie. “Look, through here where the trees are closer set, there’s barely any snow at all on the ground. It’s all on the higher tree branches above us.”
They walked into the copse, where the snow and trees created a cocoon. There it was darker and sounds were deadened, absorbed by snow and wood. The aroma of pine greeted their noses.
“I love that smell,” said Freya. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, taking a long sniff. It made her look younger than her twenty-one years.
