The Names

By nine the following morning, Emma had three browser windows open, a notebook beside her coffee and a headache that had begun somewhere behind her eyes. She had slept badly. Each time she closed them, she saw the same line from the letter: Look at what was promised to those students, and what they actually received.

Her first impulse had been to call Fiona Kerr. She resisted it. Fiona's name had surfaced in the old accounts, but Emma had no reliable number and no reason to expect a former employee to trust a stranger who arrived with accusations. There was something else she could do first: find the people the foundation said it had helped.

The Glenarraidh Education Trust's 2010 brochure listed twelve scholarship recipients beneath a photograph of a smiling group outside a college building. Some names were accompanied by short quotations about opportunity and ambition. The language was polished, almost interchangeable. Emma copied the names into a spreadsheet and added columns for the course, the year and the amount advertised. The brochure described awards of up to three thousand pounds, but it did not say whether every student had received that sum.

She wrote a warning above the table: An offer is not a payment.

Two of the students appeared in public professional profiles. A third had written an article for a local magazine about training as a mechanic. Emma sent careful messages explaining who she was and what she wanted to check. She did not mention Claire Morrison. She had no permission to share the contents of the letter, and she did not yet know whether doing so would put anyone at risk.

At half past ten, Sarah called.

"You sound as if you've been awake all night," her editor said.

"Not quite all night. I've found the scholarship list. Twelve names in the brochure, fewer completed awards in the annual report."

"Does that mean the money went missing?"

"It means the documents count different things. It could be perfectly innocent."

Sarah was silent for a moment. "I'm glad you said that. The last time you looked into this foundation, you were too quick to fill the gaps."

Emma accepted the criticism. Sarah had not been her editor in 2011, but she knew the story well enough. "This time I want to speak to the students before I write a word."

"Then ask what they were promised. Ask what arrived. And keep the answers separate."

When the call ended, Emma looked again at the photograph. One of the students was holding a folder with the trust's crest on it. Another had his eyes half closed against the sun. They were not clues in a puzzle. They were people who had made plans based on what an institution told them.

An email arrived shortly before lunch. Its subject was simply Re: Glenarraidh scholarship. The sender was a woman named Ailsa Grant, whose name appeared fourth on the brochure's list.

I remember the scheme, she wrote. I can talk, but please don't quote me until I know exactly what you're asking.

Emma replied with her number and suggested a call that afternoon. She left the spreadsheet open, its empty payment column waiting.