For me, there are two types of insult. When Claire called him a gluttonous turnip, it’s probably something she’d thought up at some point beforehand. I can imagine her sitting on it, stewing, for months or years. Then, when the opportunity arose, she threw it in his face with the fury he deserved.
When Daniel called me a ‘girl’, there was no sophistication there. Insults like ‘boy’ or ‘girl’ are about his level. The only exception is that I once heard him call Victor – his own son, remember – ‘as useful as the dregs at the bottom of a wine bottle’. I can imagine him cracking that out roughly twice a week, hoping for a laugh it will never get.
He’s not a clever man.
Imagine Piers Morgan with even more chins than he has already – that’s the kind of person we’re talking about. If it’s not ‘boy’, ‘girl’ – or the thing that’s literally in front of Daniel at the time he’s speaking – then he has nothing.
Daniel: You know she’s a child murderer, don’t you? That’s the person you’re giving airtime to.
Emma: There was this moment of silence and I think Daniel realised he’d gone too far. It wasn’t that he had any concern for me – it’s that he’d done it in front of Mum. She didn’t have to say anything because she did it all with a look.
Daniel muttered something that might have been ‘sorry’ and then he told Mum that he needed a decision about money for the repairs. He wanted to scan the sheet and email it back to the UK so that work could begin the next morning. He asked if Dad was up to signing the form, even though I’m about as certain as I can be that he already knew the answer.
Mum said that Dad was on some strong painkillers and wouldn’t be up to making big decisions, so Daniel asked if she’d sign it in her role as co-director.
Daniel: This is a straightforward business matter and I have no idea why you’re asking about it.
Emma: One thing I do know is that Mum’s role in the company is name only. She is a director, but it doesn’t come with any role that I know of. I’d guess it’s for tax reasons, but it’s not for me to say.
Daniel: That is none of her business. Or yours.
Emma: Mum didn’t look at the papers before signing them. They could have been for anything. Daniel took them back from her and then winked at me as he turned to head back to the hotel.
He kept staring at me when we were at dinner that night. Every time I glanced up, his piggy eyes would be watching and he’d not bother to turn away. It was starting to feel as if every moment I spent in the hotel was a moment I was stuck with him.
I gave Mum her group dinner, but, after that, I needed to get away.
Daniel: Emma McGinley grew up with wonderful parents and an older brother who went on to be incredibly successful in his field. She can’t blame her genes for her failures, which only leaves her personality.
Look at how she dresses, how she speaks. I have no interest in Facebook and all that rubbish – but even I’ve seen the photos of her on those protest marches. I’ve seen the disgraceful language she uses while talking about the democratically elected Prime Minister of this country. Did you see what she called people who vote Conservative?
It all came out in the papers after she murdered her son. They printed the lot of it and showed her up for who she is.
If you’re asking me to respect a person like that, to listen to a person like that, then you’re talking to the wrong man.
Paul: When the lobby called my room, saying there was a woman waiting for me, it’s fair to say I would’ve beaten Usain Bolt down the stairs.
Emma: I didn’t know whether Paul would want to see me again, but the receptionist had barely put the phone down when he bolted out of the lift. He asked if I wanted to go to the hotel bar, but I was after something more private. The rest of the crew were staying in that hotel and I didn’t think it was a good idea for us to be seen together.
We ended up heading into the village. It’s easy to get lost there in the evenings. Most tourists stay in their hotels because it’s all-inclusive – but even those who don’t stick to the bars that are closer to where they’re staying.
I knew a few places on the edge of town because Lander would take me there. It’s not just that they’re quieter, it’s that they feel more real. The other bars will be showing football, or other sport that I don’t think the locals are too bothered about. There will be pub quizzes, or karaoke… things for tourists.
The bar Paul and I settled into was almost silent. I’ve never understood those places that have loud music all the time. Literally nobody in the history of humanity has said to their friends: ‘Let’s go out and listen to recorded music at a volume so loud, I won’t be able to hear you speak.’
Paul and I found a snug at the back of a bar. There were a handful of tourists there, but no one either of us recognised. Paul ordered a bottle of the local beer and I did the whole ‘Coke, Please,’ ‘Is Pepsi OK?’ ‘Yes’-thing.
Paul: Emma was interested in the documentary we were making, which isn’t much of a surprise. I told her a couple of things but nothing important. She kept asking whether the end was fixed.
Emma: He pretended he didn’t know what I meant, so I had to spell it out. I was asking whether he knew what happened to Alan nine years ago.
Paul: I don’t remember what I said in response to that.
Emma: He said a lot without saying anything. They’d spoken to the person who found Alan’s body, Jin the police chief, Scott and a couple of other locals that he didn’t name. I was fishing for details and wondering if I should tell him about the fake driving licence I’d found with Alan’s name and Dad’s face.
After looking through the contents of the PO box, I finally had an idea why that licence existed… but I wasn’t quite ready to admit it to myself.
Paul: I don’t remember things quite like that. She wanted to talk about the film, so we did, though she knew there was lots that I couldn’t say.
Then I mentioned that I’d heard rumours someone else had fallen off a cliff in recent days – and that’s when she said it was her dad. It was fair to say I was surprised. Speechless, probably.
Emma: I didn’t particularly want those worlds to collide – but Paul knew who I was by that point and he’d have found out about Dad sooner or later. It wasn’t that I’d gone out of my way to avoid telling him, it was that Paul and I had only seen each other once since Dad fell – and that was on the street with Scott and the rest of the crew.
I told him that Dad was awake, though he had fractures in both legs. He needed surgery and that it was likely he’d end up flying home to have it.
Paul: I didn’t want to be the one to say it.
Emma: He didn’t mention the similarity to what had happened with Alan, though he must have been thinking it.
Paul: We moved on to chatting about other things. It was either that, or go our separate ways. She told me a bit more about the shop where she works and I told her how I’d got into film-making. It was one of those talks that lasts for hours and yet, at the end, you can’t remember what you were talking about.