Page 95 of The Clifftop Cottage

Steven. Always there underneath everything.

What if he found her? What if he arrived with lawyers and that carefully rehearsed sorrow.

Erica bundled up in her thickest knits and a scarf. After filling a flask with hot chocolate and grabbing her notepad, she slipped out, leaving Lucky sleeping oblivious in the warmth of the cottage.

By the time she reached the next town over, mist had wrapped itself around the buildings like cotton. A wet hush. As if everything was just slightly out of reach.

She walked slowly, her boots squelching over wet leaves, breath fogging up around her scarf.

What was it with the mist lately? It felt like it hadn’t lifted in days.

She cupped her hands to her flask and took a sip. Warmth spread down her throat, but didn’t settle her.

The black plaque caught her eye. This time she knew it’s exact location – low to the ground, half hidden behind an overgrown hedge by the roadside. A pathetic excuse for a memorial.

A car shot past, spraying slush. Erica flinched.

Being in this spot, by the road, felt deliberate. Like they didn’t really want anyone to notice. Apart from an occasional passing car, the street was empty.

Erica turned, rubbing her gloved fingers together.

Then she saw him.

The statue. Just visible through the mist. She crossed the road and circled behind him, studying him.

A stern face, long robes, a judge’s wig, carved stiff and self-important. One hand resting on a book. The other holding a rolled parchment, or a decree.

He looked like he was still deciding someone’s fate. Maybe that was exactly what he had done to the nameless women behind her? Maybe they would be facing each other on either side of the main road for eternity. A cruel joke.

She stepped closer, eyes narrowing at the plaque beneath his booted feet.

CHARLES WILLIAM GRIGOR

First Mayor

Founder of the Highland Reform League

She stared at the surname.

Grigor.

Where had she heard that before?

She reached into her coat pocket, her fingers suddenly clumsy against the cold, and pulled out her phone.

Charles William Grigor, Highland Reform.

A scroll of results. Museum references. Formal portraits, stiff with self-importance. And then, something buried.

A genealogy footnote.

Born 1770. Mother unlisted. Rumoured illegitimate child. Raised in anonymity by a widow healer on the northern coastlands.

Widow healer.

Erica’s thumb hovered.

Known locally only as “The Red.” Skilled in herbs. Reclusive. Subject to informal accusation in 1791. Records suggest a private appeal prevented formal charges.