‘You’re jumping to conclusions.’
‘Well, where is he then?’ My voice was sharp, biting. I saw Darren’s expression curdle in response.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest. His muscles bulged menacingly. ‘Maybe … maybe he left, hitched a ride up on the road.’
‘Without telling any of us?’ Dougie looked sceptical. I was too. Martin wouldn’t do that.
‘He was upset,’ Darren continued, warming to his idea. ‘He was raging at me –’ (Not without cause, I thought.) ‘– and then neither of you would go walking with him. Maybe he just decided to disappear. Five’s a crowd and all that.’
‘It wasn’t like that,’ I argued feebly.
But maybe it was like that, at least for Martin. Darren’s words stabbed at the heart of the unease I already felt. What if that was exactly how he’d seen it? He’d been having a miserable time, clashing with Darren every five seconds. And then Dougie and I – who were supposed to be his friends – had let him storm off alone so we could go swimming together. Maybe he’d felt isolated, left out; maybe he’d decided to get out of the way.
Looking at it that way, Darren’s suggestion didn’t seem quite so unfeasible. I bit my lip, not wanting to admit it, ashamed of myself.
Dougie rescued me.
‘Even if he did think that, I still don’t think he’d just leave. He wouldn’t have got into a car with total strangers. Plus, we walked all the way along that road, not a single motor went past.’
‘We didn’t see anyone,’ Darren said. ‘But that doesn’t mean Martin didn’t.’
‘And that one car just happened to be willing to stop and pick up a stranger?’ Dougie argued back.
Darren shrugged. ‘It’s possible. Or maybe he went the other way, up to the turn. There was more traffic there.’
‘Maybe.’ Dougie’s voice was hard, disbelieving. ‘You really think he’d just abandon all his things, though?’
‘Who says he did?’ Darren asked.
We all looked to the boys’ tent. Then back to each other.
‘I’ll check.’ Darren disappeared from the circle of the torch beam.
I heard the ripping sound of the tent flap being opened and then a rustling. A smaller light flared inside the canvas, whiter than the torch, like the glare from a mobile. It danced and flickered as Darren searched the tent. We could have gone over too, but for some reason none of us moved. We just stood there, clustered round the fire pit from the night before, waiting.
The light in the tent went out and I shivered, though it wasn’t really cold. Agitated, I stuck my hand in my pocket and began to fiddle with the brooch. Finally Darren reappeared, pausing to zip the door and straighten the porch before he spoke.
‘Well?’ Dougie prompted, pinning him in the torch beam, tired of waiting.
Darren shrugged.
‘He must have gone,’ he said. ‘His bag’s missing, and all his clothes. The only things of his left are his sleeping bag and the air mattress pump.’
Dougie scowled, unconvinced. ‘And just when did he have time to come and get them?’
‘That would be when we were out searching the countryside for him,’ Darren shot back. ‘I told you Emma and I should stay. We could have stopped him, talked some sense into him.’
Dougie snorted and I knew what he was thinking. Darren would have been more likely to help Martin pack, offer him a lift up to the road. Frustrated, he ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up on end in disarray.
‘Dammit,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t believe this.’
Neither could I. We’d driven Martin away. Darren with his drinking and his temper, but it was Dougie and I who had pushed him out. I swallowed painfully, feeling sick at myself.
‘What do we do?’ I asked.
‘We should go get him,’ Dougie replied at once.
I blinked, then nodded. Of course that was what we should do. Only …
‘How?’ Darren’s voice was acerbic.
‘What?’ Dougie looked more annoyed than confused.
‘How are we meant to go and get him? We’ve no idea where he is; in fact he’s probably halfway home. We haven’t got any signal on our phones. Are you suggesting we hike all over bloody Dumfriesshire?’
‘We’ll take the Volvo,’ Dougie spat back, as if it was obvious.
‘You driving then? I’m over the limit.’
Dougie frowned at that, and so did I. Darren hadn’t had a chance to have a drink in hours. Just how much had he consumed earlier on? Or was this just a convenient excuse?
It was a good one, though. If Darren couldn’t drive then looking for Martin was out, at least for tonight.
‘Look.’ Darren’s tone changed, became more ingratiating. ‘We can’t do anything tonight. Let’s just stay here and then, in the morning, we’ll drive up to where we can get a signal and you can call him and sort this out. He’ll be home safe with his mammy. Guaranteed. I promise to drive you up tomorrow.’
Dougie considered that. ‘First thing?’ he asked.
‘First thing.’
I didn’t like the idea of waiting all night. Despite Darren’s plan, the lead in my stomach refused to shift. Maybe it was the darkness. It was pitch black on the beach apart from the dimming light of the torch, in need of new batteries, and the watery glow of the moon. I agreed readily when Darren suggested trying to get a fire going. Didn’t even complain when he dragged out the whisky. I needed something to warm my insides.
I tried to shut out the thought in the back of my mind that whispered that Martin wasn’t halfway back to Glasgow, chatting merrily in the back seat of someone’s car, but was somewhere much darker, much colder. Somewhere alone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The fire took a while to catch. Most of the wood we collected was damp and the breeze kept snuffing out any flames we managed to coax to life. Eventually, though, with the help of a little bottle of lighter fluid that Darren produced from the car, we got it going. It had an immediate effect on the atmosphere. Radiating warmth, it banished the shadows outside the circle.
We were still quiet, though, still subdued. For a while the silence was kept at bay only by the crackling of burning wood and the hiss and spit of the burgers Dougie was cooking on his tiny grill. We were all starving, having missed dinner in the search for Martin.
Every time she got up to go into the darkness to pee, or dart into the tent for a jumper, or a brush, or to fetch a drink, Emma shifted her chair a little further away from me, a little closer to Darren. I didn’t see him move so much as an inch, but somehow his chair also migrated away from Dougie’s, until I looked up and saw there was a clear divide: Darren and Emma on one side of the fire, Dougie and me on the other.
To be honest, I wasn’t particularly bothered, but I did worry, as I watched them intertwine fingers, Emma giggling and Darren winking at her, a lascivious leer about his grin, that they would use Martin’s disappearance as an excuse to pair up, to push me and Dougie into being a ‘couple’.
Had Dougie noticed? I looked at him slyly out of the corner of my eye, saw he was staring in my direction. I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. He just kept looking at me.
‘What?’ I eventually asked.
He shrugged.
‘Nothing.’
There was a pause, then I asked, ‘Do you really think Martin hitched out of here?’
Another pause, before Dougie finally nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said.
And it was probably true. It wasn’t hard to believe that Martin had wanted to escape, possibly badly enough that he’d ask strangers for a ride. I felt bad about it, knowing part of that was my fault, but I was also pretty annoyed with him by now. He must have known we would worry. Would it have been so hard to leave a note? Maybe it was part of our punishment. I could imagine his self-righteous, aggrieved expression as he marched away up the hill without looking back. Muttering that we deserved it.
I let the resentment build up, becau
se it made it easier to convince myself there was no need to worry. But …
‘I just … what if we call tomorrow and he doesn’t answer?’ I said. ‘Or he does answer and he’s in a ditch somewhere, been there all night, and –’
‘He won’t be, Heather.’ Dougie cut me off. I let him, because talking about it was bringing that horrible uneasy feeling back again. I took a deep breath, looked around for a safe topic of conversation. There was only one real option.
‘Emma and Darren look pretty cosy.’
‘Yeah.’ Dougie gazed across the flames at them, faces just a foot apart, grinning at each other. ‘Yeah, think he really likes her.’
‘Wonder why,’ I murmured, finishing the thought I could see lingering on his lips.
Dougie laughed. ‘Well, Darren’s no picnic,’ he said quietly. ‘He can be a tosser.’
I grimaced my agreement, not really wanting to say it aloud.
‘Guess they’re perfect for each other, then,’ I offered, smiling wryly.
‘Guess so.’ Dougie smiled back.
We didn’t speak for a while after that and, for the first time, I felt perfectly comfortable just sitting there beside Dougie quietly, doing nothing more than watching the flames.
‘Right, kiddos, bedtime.’ Darren’s voice startled me. I raised my eyebrows at him, confused. That was very sensible for Darren. It couldn’t be much past midnight and he’d hardly had anything to drink. Maybe the Martin thing had actually unsettled him. Maybe he had feelings after all.
As he stood up, though, I saw a bulge up his sleeve that was suspiciously cylindrical and my eyes narrowed. What was he up to?
But I was tired so I readily agreed, dragging myself up and heading in the direction of my tent. I yanked on my pyjamas then stood, undecided. I needed to pee, but it was dark and my sleeping bag was calling to me, a little damp on the cover but mercifully dry inside. I knew if I crawled in it, however, that I’d just have to get up and go in the middle of the night. Grumbling audibly, I stamped my way outside.
Uncomfortable lingering in the dark, I was back in record time. Emma was already inside, because a light was glowing and the door was closed. I bent to unzip it, then paused, shocked, in the entrance.
Darren waved at me from inside the tent, sprawled nonchalantly across the double air mattress.
‘Hi, gorgeous.’ He winked cheekily.
‘What are you doing in here?’ I demanded, too surprised to be polite.
Emma appeared from out of nowhere to stand at my side.
‘Darren’s sleeping in here,’ she said breezily. I gaped at her, aghast. I thought I saw a slight sheepishness in her eyes, but then she stepped past me and turned to block my way.
‘Where the hell am I meant to sleep?’ I ground out.
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ She winked coyly at me. ‘Somewhere else.’
‘Emma, don’t do this to me,’ I hissed, but it was already done. Ignoring me, Emma reached out to zip the tent closed.
‘You’ll thank me for this later,’ Darren called as I was shut out.
My mouth dropped as I registered what he meant. Not only was she shutting me out of our tent, but she’d told Darren about my feelings for Dougie. Darren, who couldn’t keep his mouth shut about anything. I gritted my teeth against the swear words rising up in my throat.
Then my shoulders slumped. There was no way I was up for a confrontation with Darren tonight so I turned to contemplate my only other option. Like a condemned man to the gallows, I walked hesitantly towards the other blob of glowing light. The boys’ tent. Dougie’s tent.
I stopped just short and hesitated, squirming from foot to foot, too mortified to announce myself. I would have liked to knock, but canvas made that impossible. Instead I cleared my throat and, after sending a final frustrating and pleading glance towards Emma and Darren, inside my tent, I took a deep breath.
‘Dougie?’ I croaked as quietly as I could manage. I didn’t want Darren or Emma to hear.
He didn’t answer, but I heard shuffling from inside and a moment later his head appeared.
‘Hey,’ he greeted me. ‘What’s up?’
He wasn’t aware of Darren and my ‘friend’s’ treachery, then.
The words wouldn’t come out and I watched as his face grew more confused, then amused.
‘Can I sleep in here?’ I mumbled eventually, dying on the spot.
The confusion was back.
‘What’s wrong with your tent?’
‘There’s a Darren in it,’ I admitted.
‘Oh,’ he laughed, looking across to the other tent. ‘Oh. That’s where he is.’
But he stepped back and opened the flap further so I could crawl inside. I stumbled and tripped my way in, feeling awkward, and all but fell down into the back corner of the tent where the mess was thinnest. As Dougie closed us in, his bare back to me, again I drank in the sleekness of his muscles, shifting under his skin as he moved, but I made myself pull my stare away as he turned back to me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him tugging a t-shirt over his head and felt both uncomfortable and chagrined.
‘Okay.’ He settled down into a deep red sleeping bag and smiled at me. I felt a little better. ‘Blue or green?’ He pointed to the other two bags. I looked at them, just to avoid looking at him. The space was too small, the paper-thin walls of the tent claustrophobic.
‘Which one is Darren’s?’ I asked, striving, unsuccessfully, for nonchalance.
‘Blue.’
‘Then I’ll take green.’
I pulled the sea-green bag over, started to fold myself inside. I planned to escape this awkward torture by falling asleep as quickly as possible. I knew Emma would be disappointed in me, that she’d call me a chicken in the morning, tell me I’d wasted an opportunity. I just hoped to God we wouldn’t hear any noises floating over from the direction of the other tent. Surely she’d spare me that much.
‘It gets pretty cold in here,’ Dougie warned as I rolled over to lie down on the far edge of the huge air mattress. It was much bigger than the one in our tent, a kingsize, maybe. ‘It’s the height of the ceiling. The space is too big to collect warmth.’
‘Okay,’ I said, directing my stare in front of me, where Darren’s rumpled blue bag marked his absence. I was already cold. Martin’s sleeping bag wasn’t as thick as mine, the shiny, shell-suit feel of the fabric cooler than my fluffy cotton lining. I buried down deeper so that my nose wasn’t sticking out in the frigid air, only my eyes peeking at Dougie. It still felt too much. I closed them, then wondered if he’d continued to watch me. I tried to quietly rotate, planning on turning my back on him, hoping I’d feel a little less self-conscious that way, but he spoke and I froze.
‘I’m cold,’ he sighed.
My eyes flew open, staring into the roof of the tent.
‘Mmm,’ I mumbled in agreement.
‘We should huddle up,’ he said matter-of-factly. He smiled as I turned to eye him warily. ‘You know, like penguins.’
Penguins? More like two very uncomfortable people. Or at least one very uncomfortable person. One hopeful-but-pathetically-chicken very uncomfortable person. But he was looking at me, waiting, that half-smile still lingering on his lips. Not sure what else to do – I both wanted and really didn’t want to do as he suggested – I started to wriggle like an over-sized worm across the tent. The air mattress sloped down towards Dougie’s weight and I tumbled the final foot, my arms pinned at my side in the bag, helpless to stop me. Dougie had to catch me to stop my momentum throwing us both against the side of the tent. I still face-planted into his chest, getting a whiff of whatever body-spray he used, trapped in the fabric of his shirt. It smelled amazing. Not that I was able to concentrate on that.
‘I’m sorry!’ I gasped.
Oh my God. Oh my holy God! How embarrassing. But he was laughing. At me or with me I couldn’t tell; I was too mortified to look at his face.
‘Don’t apologise,’ he said through shakes of laughter. ‘What guy doesn
’t want a woman to throw herself into his arms? That’s twice in one day!’
‘Right,’ I choked out. My face was on fire. I wasn’t cold now, that was for sure.
Neither was Dougie. Both his arms around me and the length of his torso that I was pressed against radiated heat. He wasn’t freezing. I raised one eyebrow, confused and curious, but the thought only lasted a second. Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself.
Not quite sure how he wanted us to ‘penguin’, I shifted round until my back was to his chest. It felt a little less uncomfortable that way. We didn’t seem to be as close when I had the length of the tent to look at. One of Dougie’s arms draped over my side, the other he tucked under his head as a pillow.
‘That’s warmer,’ he breathed.
I nodded, not sure I could speak without embarrassing myself further. His breath against my neck was giving me shivers. I tried to block it out, listening to the rhythmic ebb and flow of the sea, hoping it would lull me to sleep. Eventually.
When I opened my eyes, it was morning. Dougie’s arm was no longer wrapped around me and I had lost the comforting pressure of his chest against my back. I listened to see if I could hear his quiet breathing, but my ears could only pick up the slow, constant whooshing of the waves. I twisted round to double-check that I was alone and saw the dark red sleeping bag lying empty beside me.
I sat up and stretched, wincing slightly. The boys’ air mattress might be bigger than mine, but it wasn’t any more comfortable. My shoulders ached and my spine cracked as I twisted. I was in the process of trying to pull the knots out of my hair – matted and brittle from the dip in the sea – when the tent flap was pulled back and I was blinded by light.
‘You’re awake,’ Dougie commented.
He was fully dressed bar his shoes. I wondered how he’d managed that without waking me; I was usually a light sleeper.
‘Yeah.’ I gave him a half-smile that warped into a huge yawn without my permission. I clapped my hand over my mouth just a second too slow. ‘Are you the only one up?’ I asked. I couldn’t hear the dulcet tones of Darren or Emma.
‘Yup. I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Sorry,’ I said, instantly taking the blame. I hoped to God I hadn’t snored last night. Surely Emma would have complained if I was a loud sleeper?
Black Cairn Point Page 9
