by Sue Fortin
‘Carys! You OK?’ It’s Andrea.
Before I can turn, I can feel the weight of my jacket being rested on my shoulders. ‘Put your coat on, it’s cold out here this morning and you’re shivering.’
I hadn’t noticed, but now that I’m more in control I can feel the difference in my body temperature. I glance over my shoulder and Joanne and Zoe are standing in the doorway, concern etching their faces.
‘I’m OK,’ I call. I give a smile and then turn to Andrea. ‘Sorry about that. Had a funny turn.’
‘I didn’t think you had those any more.’
‘From time to time. Certain things can trigger them off.’ I zip up the jacket.
‘I’m guessing it was the …’ Andrea’s voice trails off.
I nod. ‘Yeah, it was that bit. Took me by surprise, that’s all. Forget about it. I feel a bit of an idiot.’
‘Don’t be daft. No one thinks that. It was insensitive of Joanne to include a character who’d … well, you know.’
‘I’m sure it wasn’t intentional,’ I say, noting my voice lacks conviction.
Chapter 11
‘Why do they call this Arrow’s Path?’ I ask, as we make our way along the track.
‘I’m not sure, something to do with it being a perfectly straight path, scored out through the countryside by a Scottish hunter,’ says Joanne. ‘The path leads to the edge of a gorge and a rock the shape of an arrowhead juts out over it. Apparently, the arrow hit the cliff and made the gorge, which then allowed the water to flow down into the river, hence the waterfall called Archer’s Fall.’
‘Is it a popular tourist spot?’ asks Andrea. ‘I thought we might see some other hikers.’
I look at the empty path ahead of us. The forest is on our left over the other side of the hill. Here the landscape is bleak. Hills roll in from either side as the path leads through the centre of a valley. Long grass, brambles and heather add the only texture.
‘It’s not hugely popular,’ says Joanne. ‘When we were here last year, we only saw one other family all week. There’s not much else around to bring the tourists in.’
‘How far from civilisation are we?’ asks Andrea.
‘About fifteen miles. There’s a small town to the south called Gormston. Other than that, I wouldn’t like to say, but you’d certainly need a vehicle to get anywhere. Aberdeen is about a hundred miles to the east.’
I call up my rough mental map of Scotland which, I confess, is very sketchy. I have a general idea of where Aberdeen is, but that’s about it.
‘We really are in the middle of nowhere,’ says Andrea. ‘What if there’s an emergency? You’ve got no landline, no mobile phone coverage and I haven’t seen a car parked at the croft.’
‘I told you, there’s a radio in the kitchen.’
‘But what about now? What if we have an accident out here?’ Andrea gives me an incredulous look.
‘Relax,’ says Joanne. ‘You’ve all got the survival packs I gave you, but I also have a small hand-held radio with me and a flare. Stop worrying.’
I must admit, encountering a problem out here isn’t exactly appealing but we do have a basic emergency pack and first-aid kit. It’s what I would take with me normally if I was out on a hike. On a run, I only have my mobile phone with me, having the luxury of phone coverage, unlike here. At least Joanne has a backup device, even if it is at the croft. I make a mental note to check it out when we return.
After about another hour walking, we stop for a refreshment break.
‘I’ve got flasks of hot tea when we get to Arrow’s Head,’ says Joanne, ‘but for now we can have water.’
I open my flask and look around. The path cuts its way between two hills, inclining slightly as it does so and then disappearing over the brow. With another hour to go, I guess our final destination is some way off yet.
Final destination.
The words resound in my head and remind me of the comment the guy in the van made yesterday. Why did it make me feel the same now as it did then? Uncomfortable. Nervous. I shake my head to be rid of the negative thoughts that are threatening to get out of control. I am overreacting and have no idea why. To distract myself, I take my camera from my pocket.
‘Group photo,’ I announce to the others. ‘Let’s get a selfie.’
The others huddle together while I balance the camera on a rock, checking they are in the frame. I set the timer and then run to join the group, where we all strike a pose and wait for what seems like far longer than ten seconds for the flash to go off. After examining the photo and all agreeing it was quite a good one, I take some snaps of the landscape.
‘Let’s get going now,’ says Joanne, popping her water bottle in her rucksack. ‘Tell me, has anyone got any more ideas about who the mystery characters are?’
‘Oh don’t,’ groans Zoe. ‘I’m useless at this game. I’m going to have to ask the Oracle tomorrow, that’s for sure.’
‘How did you choose our characters?’ asks Andrea, as we begin our ascent along the path. ‘Was it a random choice or was there a method to it?’
‘There was definitely a method,’ says Joanne. ‘I hand-picked each character with great care for their qualities and relevance.’
I try to work out why I have been given my character. Someone who married a Prince and who Joanne has branded as an adulteress. How was that connected to me? Darren and I may have been getting a divorce, but I certainly hadn’t had an affair. ‘Did you definitely give us the right characters?’ I ask.
‘Yes, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’ve given you a character that relates to you.’
‘And the secret associated with that character, what’s the relevance of that? Or was that random?’ asks Andrea.
‘You should know the answer to that,’ I say. ‘Nothing is ever random where Joanne is concerned.’
‘I thank you,’ says Joanne, turning around and giving a small bow to the rest of us. ‘Spoken by someone who knows me only too well.’
We trudge along the path and I think of the clues once again. So, the character I have could be Andrea or Zoe and the secret is that of an adulteress, which Joanne has specifically chosen to fit one of us. I know it’s not me, so that must mean Joanne believes either Andrea or Zoe have had, or are having, an affair.
I run the idea through my mind with each of them. I can’t imagine Andrea having an affair. She and Colin have a rock-solid marriage. I dismiss the notion almost immediately. Could Zoe be having an affair? She’s single, so that must mean she’s having an affair with a married man. Again, I want to dismiss the notion straight away. I can’t see Zoe doing that, not after her own husband did it to her. It’s simply not her style. Joanne must be wrong about this. At least, I hope she is.
At least the weather is on our side; the grey clouds of this morning have been blown south by the gentle breeze which has brought whiter and thinner clouds our way. After another fifty-five minutes, I can see the path ahead level out and widen.
‘We’re here,’ announces Joanne.
As we reach the wider part of the path, we are met by the beautiful sight of Archer’s Falls. The waterfall is on the other side of the gorge, which is about fifty metres across. The narrow breadth of water sloshes lazily over the rocks and down the side of the gorge, tumbling into a pool below.
‘This is breathtaking,’ I say, as we stand at the edge of the path. A large rock juts out over the pool. ‘Is this Arrow Head? Is it safe enough to walk out on to?’
‘Perfectly safe,’ replies Joanne. ‘We definitely should take another picture of us all standing out there.’
I walk a few steps closer to Arrow Head.
‘I’m not going out there,’ says Zoe. ‘Not in a million years. It’s bloody dangerous.’
‘No, it’s not,’ counters Joanne. She marches out to the edge of the rock and turns to face us, her arms wide open. ‘Look!’ Joanne jumps up and down a few times, before sitting on her bottom and hanging her feet over the edge.
�
�Don’t be so stupid!’ shouts Zoe. ‘Come back this minute!’
‘I’m not one of your kids!’ Joanne’s response is terse.
I make my way towards the edge but stop short of sitting on the end of the rock. I’ve rock-climbed and abseiled regularly with the outward-bound centre I work for, but always with sufficient safety ropes and precautions. ‘This is the most beautiful view ever,’ I say, taking more pictures of the vista before me. ‘No towns or buildings, just valleys and mountains.’
‘Now you see why I brought you all here,’ says Joanne. She looks below her. ‘That pool down there leads out into a small river which eventually winds its way past the croft and on into Gormston.’
I shuffle a little closer to the edge for a look. ‘Wow. Is there any way we can get to the pool?’
‘Yes. This is one of my surprises,’ says Joanne, swinging her legs up on to the edge of the rock and standing up. She brushes non-existent dust from her trousers. ‘This is where you come in handy.’
‘I do?’
‘We’re going to abseil down there.’
‘We are?’ I raise my eyebrows and look at Zoe and Andrea. ‘I take it they don’t know that.’
‘Of course not. They wouldn’t have come. Don’t worry, they won’t have any choice. It’s a fait acompli.’
Chapter 12
‘No. Fucking. Way,’ Andrea says, folding her arms and looking at Joanne as if she is completely off her head. I have every sympathy for Andrea. Abseiling may be something that doesn’t faze me, but I appreciate it’s not everyone’s preferred method of descent.
‘Don’t be such a baby,’ says Joanne, as she kneels and begins to unfasten her rucksack. ‘It’s my birthday, think of it as the ultimate gift to me.’ She looks up at Zoe. ‘You’re up for it, aren’t you?’
Zoe glances uncomfortably at both myself and Andrea, before looking back at Joanne. ‘I can’t say I’m keen on the idea. Where exactly are we abseiling from? Please don’t say over the edge there.’ She points to where Joanne has been dangling her legs.
‘There’s a place further round the gorge – it’s lower, about fifteen feet.’ Joanne pulls out two large coils of rope, a harness, a safety helmet and an assortment of hooks, clips and wedges. She looks up at Andrea. ‘It’s no different to rock climbing, except we’re going in the opposite direction. You did fine at the Bradleys’ rock-climbing birthday last year.’
‘That was different,’ says Andrea. ‘It was in a sports hall with instructors. A safe environment. Crash mats. Safety ropes.’
‘And this is no different. We’ll all be wearing the proper safety equipment. Why do you think I lugged this bloody great rucksack with me? I have everything here. It’s perfectly safe. I’ll be at the top and Carys will be at the bottom.’
‘Would have been nice to know that beforehand,’ I say.
‘But then that would have ruined my surprise.’
‘Point taken.’ I look at the kit Joanne is setting out on the ground. It is amazing how she managed to fit everything in. ‘How’s this going to work?’ I ask, noting there is only one set of equipment.
‘You go down first and then we hoist the equipment up for the next person. Once they’re down, we send it up again,’ explains Joanne. ‘I couldn’t carry four helmets, harnesses, gloves and everything else, could I?’
‘Where exactly is this lower edge?’ asks Andrea, looking around.
‘We have to make our way down this path here and it takes us round to a lower level.’ Joanne stands and turns towards the gorge. ‘See over there, where it juts out? That’s where I abseiled last year with Tris, Oliver and Ruby.’
‘And what happens when we get to the bottom? Don’t tell me we have to climb back up.’ Andrea still doesn’t look convinced, but the fact she is asking questions tells me her opposition is waning. ‘And if you tell me there’s a path or steps, then I sure as hell am NOT abseiling down. I’ll be taking those steps.’
‘That’s my next surprise, but if I tell you, it will spoil it,’ says Joanne, grinning. ‘Trust me, there are no steps down and we are not climbing back up.’
Zoe gives Andrea a little nudge with her elbow. ‘It will be—’
Andrea cuts across her. ‘If you say fun, I swear I’ll scream. I can think of many words for this, none of them being fun.’
For a few seconds, I wonder if Andrea is going to refuse after all. She turns and looks over her shoulder at the way we have come and then takes a few steps closer to the edge, eyeing up the abseiling point. She purses her lips. ‘And you’re sure there are no steps?’
‘Positive,’ says Joanne.
Andrea blows out a long breath. ‘Seeing as I don’t even know my way and it’s a two-hour walk, it looks like I don’t have any choice.’
‘Excellent,’ says Joanne, a broad smile stretching across her face. She gives Andrea a hug. ‘This is why I love you so much. You always work out the odds and play the right hand.’
Andrea gives me a confused look from over Joanne’s shoulder. I shrug. I have no idea what Joanne means either, but am grateful Andrea has agreed.
Before we take up the abseiling challenge, we decide to have something to eat. Joanne has been kind enough to provide us all with a packed lunch.
‘It reminds me of being at school,’ says Zoe. ‘Sitting down with our lunch boxes.’
‘Funny, I had that feeling when I was making them up,’ says Joanne. ‘And this is the school trip.’
‘As long as we don’t have to call you Miss and ask if we can go to the toilet,’ says Andrea.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ says Joanne. ‘Anyway, I’d end up excluding you. You would be the naughty disruptive child, who’d never do what the teacher told them to.’
‘Sounds about right,’ I say.
‘I call that being strong and independent,’ says Andrea, biting into her sandwich.
‘I call it being a pain in the arse,’ I respond good-naturedly.
‘Amen to that,’ says Joanne. ‘Oh, and if you do want to go to the loo, I suggest you do that now. You won’t have the chance again until we get back to the croft.’
‘Al fresco?’ says Zoe, with a groan. ‘I remember when we did that Snowdon walk and had to find somewhere to have a pee.’
‘No need to be shy,’ says Andrea. ‘All girls together and all that.’
‘Oh, I don’t think Zoe’s shy at all,’ says Joanne. She gives Zoe a playful nudge. ‘And I don’t think she’d be worried if it wasn’t just us girls. Go on, off you go.’
Zoe gives a little laugh as she gets up, clearly wondering if she should be reading between the lines. Something I’m also wondering.
About forty minutes later, having eaten our lunch and chatted without any further ambiguous comments, we make our way down the track to the lower level. From where we are standing, I look over the edge to get an idea of height. As Joanne said, we are about fifteen feet from the bottom of the gorge. We will be landing on a bed of shingle which extends along this side of the pool.
I look at the rock face behind us for three good places to secure the anchors for our abseil. There are plenty of jagged rocks and boulders to anchor from. I must admit to being a little nervous at abseiling an unknown rock face. Whenever I’ve done this sort of thing before, it’s always been on well-established descents that are safe and easy for the youngsters under my charge.
‘What’s the rock face like going down?’ I ask Joanne.
‘From what I remember, it’s a straight drop, nice and easy, even for beginners,’ Joanne responds with a much more confident tone than I feel.
She hands me a small net bag and I remove the safety harness. Placing a foot through each of the leg loops, I pull the harness up, rather like pulling on a pair of trousers, then fasten the belt tightly around my waist. Once that’s secure, I fasten the strap at the back.
‘I’ve got chocks over here,’ says Joanne, pulling out three pieces of rope, each with a metal wedge on the end, designed for sliding into gaps to a
ct as anchors. ‘There’s a place here and another over there.’
‘What about a third?’ I ask. ‘I always like to work with three anchors.’ I inspect the rock face and after agreeing on the two places for the chocks, decide that the third anchor could be a large rock half-buried in the side of the gorge which I can loop the rope around.
It only takes a few minutes to secure the three anchor points. I attach the rope to the gate rings and check and double-check before I’m happy with everything.
‘Are you sure about this?’ says Andrea as I begin to take the slack of the rope against the weight of my body and manoeuvre myself backwards over the edge of the ledge.
‘Absolutely,’ I reply. I can feel the adrenalin pump through me. It has been a while since I’ve abseiled, but suddenly that rush of excitement, laced with a dash of trepidation, washes over me. I used to do this all the time before I had Alfie. Darren and I had spent many holidays hiking, abseiling, kayaking and generally enjoying the wilder side of the outdoors. For a moment, the memory of us on honeymoon, yomping over Exmoor, gatecrashes my thoughts. Most of our friends who married went on beach holidays and fancy destinations, but Darren and I opted for much less conventional locations. We didn’t care. We loved it. Darren loved lots of things then. Darren loved life. I force the memory from my mind. I can’t afford to go down that route; it’s too painful.
I take a deep breath, nod and smile at the others. ‘It’s like riding a bike,’ I say. ‘Now, remember: this is the worst bit, but you must trust us. I wouldn’t do this if I thought it was unsafe and I certainly wouldn’t let either of you do it. OK?’
‘If you say so,’ replies Andrea.
‘Let the rope take your weight. Lean back so your legs are straight out from the wall and bend your body so you’re an L-shape.’ I continue to give clear and concise instructions how they are to hold the rope with one hand and let it glide through the other. ‘All the time this rope is behind you, you’re not going anywhere. Gently release and you can walk down the cliff face.’ I lean back and for the benefit of Andrea and Zoe, I very slowly show them how to walk down the cliff. When I’m about halfway down I call up. ‘I’m going to jump out now, but you two, you keep walking your way down. OK?’
