by Sue Fortin
‘That’s what I like to see,’ says Andrea. ‘So let’s all relax and wait for the police to come. We don’t want to fall out with each other.’
‘I was thinking maybe we could walk to the nearest village and get help from there. I can’t cope with sitting around doing nothing.’
Andrea sits upright. ‘Carys, how does the ranger know where to send the police?’
‘What?’ I’m not following her train of thought.
‘We don’t know where we are, right?’ Both Zoe and I make agreeing sort of noises. ‘So, how does the park ranger know where we are and where to send the police?’
‘Maybe he knows this croft?’ I say hesitantly.
‘But there must be lots of crofts in the area. How does he know which one we’re staying in?’ She turns to me. ‘Think very carefully. In your conversation with the ranger, did he ask you where you were? Did you tell him?’
It dawns on me that this is the thing that was niggling me about the conversation all this time. ‘I can’t remember. But then again, I don’t remember him asking me any specifics. Can he track the radio signal?’
‘I don’t know. Do radio signals work the same as mobile phone signals?’
I look at Zoe, who hasn’t said anything so far. She looks worried. Her emotions are all over the place, another symptom of the high anxiety levels we are all feeling.
‘Let’s assume the ranger hasn’t, for whatever reason, been able to tell the police exactly where we are,’ says Andrea. ‘What are we going to do? Shall we try to contact him again?’
‘To be honest, I’ve not got much faith in him,’ I confess. ‘He should at least have taken more details. Some of these rangers are volunteers. I’d sooner be speaking to the police.’
‘Let’s try to call him one more time,’ says Zoe, sliding the locket on her necklace back and forth. I interpret this as another anxiety indicator. She takes the walkie-talkie from her pocket and switches it on. After several unsuccessful attempts at mustering a response from the park ranger, she gives up. ‘Maybe he’s out of range.’
‘I think I should try to make it to the nearest house or village, whichever I come to first.’
‘But we’re cut off. There’s been a landslide,’ says Zoe. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea at all.’
‘I’m sure they can get us out of here one way or another. You’re not telling me there’s no mountain rescue around here.’
‘I’m with Zoe,’ says Andrea. ‘You don’t even know where you’re going.’
‘I’ve got a rough idea. Joanne pointed a few landmarks out to me when we were up on Arrow Point. If I follow the track down into the valley, I’m bound to pick up a bigger road and sooner or later someone is going to be driving along. I can flag them down and raise the alarm that way.’
‘But it’s midday. You’ll be losing light eventually. You might not even make it to a house before it gets dark,’ says Zoe. ‘What about the weather? It might rain again or the mist might come in and you could easily get lost or fall down a ravine or something.’
‘I’ll be OK. I’ve walked in all sorts of weather before, we do it all the time with the Duke of Edinburgh Award kids,’ I say. ‘I was thinking about cutting across country but, given the potential for bad weather, I’ll stick to the road. Then there’s the kayaks. Joanne said the river eventually finds its way to a town. I can’t remember what she said it was called. Gormsly, Gormouth? Something like that.’
‘Sticking to the road sounds like the safest bet to me,’ says Andrea. ‘There might be waterfalls or rapids along the river. If you capsize, you could be in serious trouble.’
After a few more minutes debating the pros and cons, we finally agree that taking the road is the safest option.
‘I still don’t like you going on your own,’ says Zoe. ‘One of us should go with you.’ She looks at Andrea.
‘When you say one of us, you mean me. You’re not exactly up to it with your ankle the way it is,’ says Andrea.
‘Well, yes. I suppose that is what I mean,’ says Zoe. ‘One of us should stay here anyway, in case the police turn up.’
‘You’re happy staying on your own?’ I ask, surprised at Zoe’s apparent bravery.
‘I’ll lock myself in. I won’t pretend I’m happy at the thought, but it’s the best option.’
I look at Andrea for a response. She shrugs. ‘I guess there isn’t a perfect solution and I’m kind of inclined to agree with you, Carys. Sitting here doing nothing isn’t getting us anywhere. If the police do come and we’re on the road, then we’ll see them.’
‘And when we see a house or a village, we’ll be able to raise the alarm. They’ll have to make us top priority then, especially now we’ve also got someone with an injury. You’d think they’d be able to send some sort of mountain rescue team up with a police officer anyway,’ I say.
‘I know, does seem odd,’ agrees Andrea. ‘But since that’s clearly not happening, we’ll have to deal with it the best we can.’
‘I must admit to feeling happier now we’re doing something proactive,’ I say. ‘I need to keep busy. Keep my mind busy.’
‘Let’s get ourselves organised. We can take those emergency hiking packs with us, the ones Joanne gave us yesterday.’
‘Good idea. There’s a first-aid kit, some emergency rations, a flare and a foil blanket,’ I say. ‘We’ll need to make sure we’ve plenty of water too.’
‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right?’ asks Andrea, turning to Zoe.
‘I’ll be fine. Just make sure someone comes back for me!’ She gives a half-hearted laugh. ‘I’ll keep the walkie-talkie close by in case the ranger makes contact.’
‘Good idea,’ says Andrea.
I must admit that Zoe seems remarkably at ease with being left on her own, which surprises me. Out of all of us, I would have pegged Zoe as the least, for want of a better word, brave. She’s always been the one we’ve mothered when we’ve been on our outdoor adventures in the past. I’m beginning to see her in a new light. I ponder this some more as I pack my rucksack and decide the inner strength she’s displaying now is probably born out of a shit marriage and having to make a go of it on her own. Pretty much the way I’ve had to.
Andrea comes up to the bedroom and closes the door behind her.
‘You OK?’ she asks.
‘I think so.’
‘You don’t sound too sure.’
‘I’ll admit I’m rather apprehensive.’ I clip the rucksack closed.
‘Not scared?’
‘A little, if I’m honest. Part of me thinks this is a good idea, part of me thinks we should stay put.’
‘What would your advice be to your Duke of Edinburgh kids?’ Andrea walks over to the window and looks out at the trees behind us.
‘To stay put. Don’t go off. Wait for help to arrive.’
‘So, remind me again, why are we leaving?’
I hold my hands up. ‘I know, it goes against everything I’ve been taught. Everything I teach others. Everything my instincts are telling me,’ I confess. ‘But I feel we should be doing something more proactive.’ I pause, wondering whether to confess my next thought.
‘What’s up?’ says Andrea, picking up on my hesitation.
‘That park ranger I spoke to. I’m beginning to doubt he was a park ranger at all.’
‘What?’
‘He didn’t ask me my name, he didn’t give his name, he didn’t ask our location. It’s been bugging me and the only thing I can think of is, he wasn’t actually a park ranger, just some random bloke who happened to catch our call.’
‘Why would someone do that?’
‘I’ve no idea. Maybe he thought it would be funny. Maybe he’s some weirdo. Maybe …’
‘Wait – please don’t say that maybe he’s the one who killed Joanne.’
We look at each other in silence.
‘It’s a lot of maybes,’ I say, at last.
‘Certainly is. And in light of all those maybe
s, the last one in particular, do you still think it’s a good idea to leave Zoe alone?’
Chapter 22
‘Look, I’ll be fine,’ insists Zoe, when Andrea and I speak to her about our worries. ‘As I said, I’m not relishing the thought of being on my own, but someone needs to stay here with Joanne and wait for the police.’
‘But we don’t know for certain that they’re coming,’ I say. ‘That’s the whole point.’
‘Yes, but I’ll lock myself in and it won’t take too long before you get to the town. Besides, I have to stay. I don’t have a choice. I can’t walk that far, not with my ankle the way it is. You need to go. Both of you.’
‘Are you sure you can’t manage the walk?’ asks Andrea.
‘Positive. We’ve been through all this. Please, just go.’
With a certain amount of reluctance, Andrea and I leave Zoe at the croft and head off down the track.
‘I hope it doesn’t rain,’ says Andrea, as we round the bend in the track and cross the stone bridge. She looks up at the clouds above. ‘Looking rather grey up there.’
‘The ground is completely saturated. It’s quite possible there’s been a landslide somewhere.’ I lengthen my stride to avoid planting my foot in a muddy puddle which stretches across the track. ‘I hope Zoe’s going to be all right on her own. I feel guilty leaving her.’
‘I know what you mean, but you heard her, she’s adamant she’ll be fine. Hopefully, this will all be over by tonight.’
‘God, I hope so.’
We trudge on in silence for a while, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
It’s Andrea who speaks first. ‘I know this is going to sound bad, and I couldn’t say it to anyone else, but I’m not as upset about Joanne as I think I should be.’
‘Really?’ I say, surprised at my friend’s honesty. Even for someone as straight-talking as Andrea, that’s some statement.
‘No. I don’t think any of us are.’
‘Speak for yourself. You don’t know what I’m thinking and feeling, or Zoe for that matter.’ Andrea’s comment irritates me but I’m uncertain if it’s because there may be an element of truth in it.
I’m not as cut up as I would have expected an almost-best-friend to be. But then maybe that’s because these are exceptional circumstances.
‘I’m only being honest,’ says Andrea.
‘It’s probably the adrenalin and the fear that’s stopping us from being upset,’ I say. ‘It will hit us later, when we’re safe in our own homes with our families.’ I think of Alfie, having to deal with another death, someone he’s grown close to, someone who has a connection to both of us. Darren’s death has been so very hard for him and now he will have to deal with another loss. And, in turn, I will have to bear the brunt of that new grief, probably in the same way I do for his grief over Darren.
Sometimes I think he almost takes pleasure in my pain, both mental and physical. I had always hoped, and still do, that he’ll grow out of his extreme behaviour as he gets older and learns, through counselling, how to deal with his emotions. At the moment, the only outlet for his emotions seems to be anger. Extreme anger. It frightens me. Not that I’d admit this to anyone else. I’m ashamed of the way he lashes out; not ashamed of him, ashamed of his behaviour. But I am ashamed of myself too. I’ve failed as a mother, in the same way I failed as a wife.
I wish I could speak to Seb. He’d know what to do. In fact, I wish I was with Seb right now. I imagine myself sitting on the sofa with him, snuggled up against his chest, his arm around me, stroking my arm with his thumb like he usually does. We’ll be watching the television and there will be a bottle of wine open. We’ll have drunk half of it by now. Both of us will be totally relaxed and at ease with each other. I will feel loved and I will be in love. And everything in the world will be all right.
A bubble of emotion rises in my throat. I swallow hard. This is not the time to go to pieces. I need to remain strong, at least until we get help. I concentrate on the road ahead.
‘You OK?’ asks Andrea.
‘Sure. Was thinking of Alfie and Seb, that’s all.’
‘How are things between those two?’
‘About the same.’
‘It will come good in the end,’ says Andrea, with a confidence I’m not convinced by.
‘Alfie can barely bring himself to talk to me, let alone Seb,’ I say. Somehow it doesn’t seem so painful talking about it as it does thinking about it. I try to rationalise my thoughts. ‘Alfie wants to move in with the Aldridges. Apparently, he and Ruby are a thing,’ I blurt out. I hadn’t meant to say anything, but ever since Alfie dropped this bombshell last week during a heated debate about spending more time at home, the notion has been patrolling the edges of my thoughts like a frustrated caged animal.
‘What? Alfie and Ruby – I don’t believe it!’
‘It was news to me too. I thought they were mates, more like brother and sister, the way they’ve always been. I had no idea it had developed into anything more.’ I don’t tell Andrea that it completely freaked me out, especially after the fallout from Ruby’s crush on Darren. I couldn’t help wondering if she was doing it on purpose, as some sort of sick revenge. Not that I said this to Alfie. I steal a look at Andrea. ‘That’s not the best bit.’
‘There’s more? Don’t tell me Ruby’s pregnant.’
‘No! That would be a complete nightmare,’ I say. ‘The best bit is, Joanne. She thought it was wonderful that they had each other and said that if Alfie wanted to move in with Ruby, she didn’t have a problem.’ The sadness washes over me. I stop walking and look out across the valley and the vast landscape ahead. ‘I think Joanne was punishing me. She wanted to take Alfie away from me and leave me with nothing.’
‘Why?’
I feel a tear roll down my cheek and I shake my head. ‘It doesn’t matter now. Joanne’s dead.’
Andrea comes to stand next to me and we both gaze out at the vista. ‘It’s true about Ruby and Darren, isn’t it? That’s what you mean about Joanne punishing you.’
‘Honestly, I don’t know. We did have this big showdown with Joanne and Tris about it a couple of years ago, but Darren denied it all. We believed him – all three of us. Had no reason not to.’
‘And now?’
‘Well, I can’t exactly ask him about it,’ I say, a failed attempt at humour. ‘I think maybe Joanne was never convinced and something has happened to stir it all up again. I don’t know what, but whatever it was, she was probably going to confront me with it this weekend.’
‘I didn’t mean what I said about Darren being a paedo,’ says Andrea. ‘I was just cross, spooked, you know?’
‘It’s OK,’ I say, with rather more grace than I feel. I’m so very tired, I’m finding it hard to delve too deeply into my bank of emotions. ‘Ruby was eighteen at the time, so legally an adult. Although, ethically, it’s another matter.’
‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe Joanne would have taken Alfie on.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘For the same reason you struggle to have a relationship with him. Don’t take this the wrong way, but Alfie has a lot of issues he needs to sort out. He’d have been too much for Joanne; she couldn’t have coped with the disruption to her nice organised life.’
I know it’s irrational and unfair of me, but I can’t help bristling at Andrea’s opinion of my son. Yes, he is struggling, but I’m the one who’s allowed to criticise him, no one else. The irony isn’t lost. I still feel massively defensive when it comes to Alfie, as any mother would. When someone else, no matter how close a friend, voices their negative thoughts, it doesn’t sit well.
‘He’s good lad,’ I say. ‘He’s not that bad.’
‘This is me you’re talking to,’ says Andrea.
Whether Andrea intends it or not, I take umbrage. ‘I suppose you think you’ve got the perfect family,’ I snap, surprising myself at the level of my anger. ‘You should look closer to home before you start criticisin
g others.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Andrea half turns to face me. Her foot is near the edge of the track. A steep hill falls away into the valley below us.
‘Exactly what I say. Your son isn’t perfect either.’
‘You can’t brandish things like that without anything to back it up. No one’s kids are perfect, and mine isn’t that bad. At least I can comment on Alfie with some authority. You’ve told me that he’s not the easiest of kids to live with, not with the mental state he’s in. And that mark on your back, I’ll bet my last pound that was something to do with Alfie.’
‘He might have some issues but at least he doesn’t peddle drugs.’ Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I’m conscious I’m lashing out because I’m hurt by Andrea’s words. Someone once said the best form of defence is attack. I guess I’m fully embracing that philosophy.
‘Drugs? What the hell are you on about?’
Despite acknowledging my reaction, I find myself snapping: ‘Bradley. He buys weed and sells it to the kids in the sixth form. If he got caught, he’d be kicked out of school and reported to the police for drug-dealing. So, don’t think your son is any better than mine.’ The feeling of triumph and satisfaction at the shocked look on Andrea’s face is short-lived. Almost immediately I regret my outburst. It is a childish and shameful way to carry on. But it’s also too late. I can’t retract the words.
Andrea is on the attack. ‘I tell you what, Carys, you should be careful what you say. You can’t go around accusing people of being drug dealers. Besides, a bit of weed is hardly crime of the century. If it were true, that is. You know what they say about people in glass houses.’
‘Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.’ Realising that Andrea is now too close to the edge for my liking, I put my hand out to touch her arm. ‘Come away from the edge.’
She snatches her arm away, the momentum throwing her backwards. When she puts her foot out to regain her balance, it makes contact with nothing but thin air.
