What Was Promised

Ailsa called at three o'clock. She spoke slowly, as if she wanted to choose every word carefully.

“In 2010, I was starting a nursing course,” she said. “The scholarship sounded wonderful. I needed money for travel and books.”

“What did the letter say?” Emma asked.

“It said I could receive up to three thousand pounds.”

“And how much did you get?”

“Nine hundred pounds. It came in two payments.”

Emma wrote down the amount. “Did they promise you exactly three thousand?”

“No. I know the difference. But I asked why the other payments never came. Someone told me the rules had changed.”

“Did they explain the new rules?”

“No. And I never received a new payment plan.”

“Did you ever meet Claire Morrison?” Emma asked.

“Once, at an information evening,” Ailsa said. “She told us to keep all the papers. She seemed worried, but perhaps I remember her that way because I know she disappeared later.”

Emma asked whether Ailsa still had the original letter. Ailsa thought it was at her parents' house. She promised to look for it.

Emma thanked her. Ailsa was being careful about her memories, and Emma respected that.

After the call, Emma opened her table again. She wrote: Ailsa says she received £900. Original documents still needed.

Later that evening, a second student answered Emma's message. His name was Calum Reid.

Emma noticed his surname. A police officer from Claire's old case was called Daniel Reid. But Reid was a common name in Scotland. She had no reason to think the two men were family.

Calum wrote that the trust had offered help with his college fees. He believed the college had never received the payment. He still had an invoice showing the money he had owed.

Emma asked to meet him the next morning. She also asked if he would allow the college to check its old records.

Two students had now described problems. But their stories were different, and Emma needed to check them separately.

Before closing her laptop, Emma looked at the word “missing” beside Calum’s payment. She crossed it out and wrote “not confirmed”. Calum’s email described what he believed had happened; the college’s records might tell a different story. She would ask his permission before checking them. The correction looked less exciting, but it was closer to what she knew.