Kit calls into the pub to ask if anyone has seen Hannah.
‘She didn’t turn up for her shift last night and she’s not here this morning, as you can see,’ huffs Alison, frantic and flustered at the busy bar. ‘She’s not replied to my messages, and here’s me, knee deep in bacon butties and coffees for the brunch mob. Tell her to get her arse over here as soon as you find her!’
‘She didn’t come back to the cottage last night.’ Kit is fretful. He waited in for her, had a few glasses of wine, had a few more, but despite himself he fell asleep.
Yesterday he’d left his jacket here. When he popped back to retrieve it he’d thought his phone would be in the pocket, but it wasn’t. He assumed he’d left it in the bedroom, but it wasn’t there either.
He says, ‘I still can’t find my phone. Can you try calling her again?’
Alison clearly has zero fucks left to give, and too many 262punters to serve. ‘I don’t care, Kit. And unless Miss Hannah is dying, or dead in a ditch, she’s out on her ear. I mean it. If she doesn’t get here pronto, I’m done with her and I’m not bloody joking.’
Her face tells him as much.
There’s no one home at Vlad’s, so Kit walks round to Hannah’s accommodation, not that she spends much time there when he’s on the island. It’s a glorious morning. The sea was insane with the storm yesterday afternoon, but it’s now flat as a millpond despite the breeze, the water deceptively mild, harbouring its secrets.
Kit’s knock at the worker’s cottage is greeted with a ‘Come in! We’re indecent!’ and giggles.
Hannah’s two housemates are both sitting cross-legged on the sofa, their knees bumping. The windows have steamed up, presumably with a recent shower, and it smells of strawberry body cream. Molly is rolling a fat joint while Elle is dipping a slice of pizza into ketchup and they’re watching an old cop series on the TV with the volume low. They’re both wearing tiny bra tops and shorts.
‘Hi,’ they say in unison.
‘What happened here?’ he asks. The place looks like it’s been burgled.
‘We had to let the butler go,’ deadpans Molly.
‘Have you seen my girlfriend? She’s AWOL.’
‘No. Wanna join us for the breakfast of champions?’ chirps Elle.
‘No thanks. Could you call her? My phone’s gone missing. She might have been trying to get in touch. And she needs to call Alison immediately.’ 263
‘Okay,’ says Molly.
‘And if you see her, can you tell her to come find me?’
‘Sure you don’t want to join us?’ jokes Elle, licking her pizza slice in a pornographic manner.
‘It’s gone straight to voicemail,’ says Molly.
The girls giggle as he leaves.
Kit walks up to the Estate Office. It’s busy this morning; groups of day visitors are making their way to the good lookout spots to watch the gig racing.
There’s a queue at the desk in the office, but Bobby is putting on his jacket, rushing to head out. Kit manages to grab him before he closes the door and ushers the visitors away.
‘Hannah’s gone missing,’ says Kit.
‘She’ll turn up,’ replies Bobby. His face looks ashen.
‘Any idea where she might be?’
‘No.’
‘She’s not at her place or Vlad’s and—’
‘Look, Kit, I don’t know. I’m a bit busy with other things right now.’
‘She’s not at work either,’ says Kit, following Bobby round to the cycle rack.
‘That’s Alison’s problem, not mine.’
‘She didn’t call in sick. She might have been trying to get in contact with me but I’ve mislaid my phone. I thought she might call you.’
Bobby wheels his bike out of the stand. ‘She hasn’t. Look, Kit, old chap, I’m up to my eyes in it here. There are bigger fish to fry.’
‘But—’
‘Kindly fuck the fuck off will you,’ says Bobby, straddling his bike and pedalling away. 264
‘Do you know anyone else she might be with? Anyone she might—’ Kit starts to run after Bobby, swerving around Old Betty, who’s heading for the office, almost bumping into her.
She protests, ‘Watch where you’re—’
‘Oh for Christ’s sake,’ he snaps.
As Kit rushes away, Miss Elisabeth is left fuming.