‘Hey, Orla …’
I only get a couple of paces before stepping on a particularly slimy rock. My feet disappear from beneath me, and suddenly the cold water is closing over my head, filling my ears and nose. Before I have time to panic, strong hands are pulling me upwards, and suddenly I’m on the river bank, gasping and coughing as I shiver and drip.
Aiden holds me upright, his hands digging into the top of my arms. ‘You are such an idiot! Honestly, I’ve never met anyone as accident-prone as you. You should come with your own public health warning.’
‘Oh God! I’m sorry!’ I say, realising he’s climbed into the river in his boots and they’re now completely drenched. ‘I just lost my footing.’
‘I know. I saw. Christ almighty, why’d you let go of my hand?’
‘I don’t know. I’m sorry.’
He pulls me to him, crushing me against his chest in a rough hug so that his T-shirt and trousers are soaked as well as his boots. ‘Are you alright?’
I nod. ‘Yes, it was only about a foot deep.’
‘I know but you went in so completely. I didn’t think it was possible for you to go under like that. I thought you’d just slip on your arse or something, not go completely under. I’m mystified as to how you managed it.’
I shrug and cough against his chest. ‘Oh well, I’m wet now. At least you don’t have to hold my hand on the way back to camp.’
He tuts. ‘You know I’m not going to risk that with your dodgy ankle. I’ll carry you, seeing as you’ve got no shoes.’
‘Oh God, don’t carry me again. It makes me feel so helpless and pathetic.’
‘Too bad. You’re meant to be resting your ankle, not wading around in rivers, trying to drown yourself.’ Before I can protest further, he sweeps my legs up and carries me back to camp through the trees.
My humiliation is complete. Not least because I’ve just realised that my white T-shirt has turned completely transparent. I pull it away from my body and my mortifyingly lacy bra with one hand, while my other arm is wrapped tightly around his shoulders. His hair curls onto my forearm, sticking to my wet skin, and he strides through the trees as though eager to be rid of me. When we reach his tent, he deposits me into his camping chair so fast I think my skin must burn him.
He goes straight into his tent and I hear him crashing about, unzipping things and rustling in bags. Careful to keep my attention away from the tent in case he’s getting undressed, I turn my full attention to my ankle. It’s looking pretty good really. Most of the bruising has gone and it’s not as puffy as it was before.
‘At least the water’s reduced the swelling on my ankle,’ I call, cheerfully.
‘Oh good,’ he replies in a flat voice.
I wince and cast a sideways glance at the tent. He must be really pissed off with me and I don’t blame him really.
‘I’m not usually this accident-prone, I swear,’ I say. ‘I just seem to be having a bad week.’
‘Yeah.’ His voice is still flat, unhappy. Disbelieving, maybe. My chest feels hollow with disappointment and I feel almost tearful. He’s not going to want to speak to me anymore. I’ve lost my new friend.
There’s lots of rustling from the tent and suddenly he ducks out of the doorway wearing a fresh T-shirt and trousers. He passes me a towel and some clothes. ‘Here, T-shirt and shorts. They’ll be massive but it’s better than sitting around in wet clothes.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, surprised he’s not going to take me home straight away.
I go into his tent and he zips it up behind me to give me some privacy. I’m still dripping wet and I feel guilty about the wet patches I leave on his plastic groundsheet. I rub my hair vigorously with the towel before pulling off my wet clothes and changing into his T-shirt and shorts. It’s a relief to be in something dry and warm, and I smile sheepishly at Aiden as I go back out. He glances up and then away, still obviously annoyed.
‘I’ll make a fire,’ he says, getting up and going round the side of his tent.
‘Oh no, you don’t have to do that,’ I protest. ‘I’ll just go home. I’m sure I’ve annoyed you enough.’
‘You haven’t annoyed me, Orla. Don’t be silly,’ he says, sounding annoyed. ‘And I don’t want to carry you up that hill yet, either. So you can sit here by the fire, and get warm.’ He’s arranging rocks in a circle and filling the inside with wood.
‘You won’t have to carry me. I bet it will be easier going uphill than down.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘And my trainers aren’t wet. I can put them back on and walk. I don’t want to put you to any more trouble.’
‘Just sit down.’
He strikes a match and the flame catches on the kindling, curling and licking around the wood. Aiden leans forward and blows on it to spread the flame further. We’re silent, just watching the orange flames and listening to the birds in the trees above. I’m still clutching my wet clothes, trying to hide my bra and pants inside my T-shirt and jeans.
‘Do you want to spread those out on a rock in the sun or something?’ he suggests.
‘Oh yeah, okay.’
‘Actually I’ll do it. You’ve got not shoes on.’
‘No, no, it’s fine,’ I say hurriedly, thinking of his big hands on my small pants. The thought makes my stomach tighten with anxiety. ‘It’s just grass.’
And twigs, beech nuts and spiky holly leaves, but all the same, the ground is surprisingly soft as I go down to the river and lay out my clothes in the sun. As I’m bending to retrieve my trainers from the bank, I hear a faint splash and, from the corner of my eye, catch sight of movement in the water by the opposite bank.
It’s probably just a big fish, gobbling up a fly. A frog, maybe. But still, I freeze and watch the water closely for signs of movement. Although the water’s crystal clear, the combination of shade from the trees and sunlight glinting off the surface makes it hard to see anything from this angle at all.
But then I see the bubbles on the surface, made by the nostrils of whatever it is swimming underneath and know it’s not a fish. I know I should run back to Aiden, but if I move now, whatever it is will disappear anyway. I can’t believe it hasn’t spotted me. I track the bubbles as they go down stream, and suddenly the flat top of a sleek brown head breaks the water then disappears from sight once more. That’s definitely an otter.
Figuring it’s far enough downstream for me not to disturb it now, I slip silently away through the trees and back to Aiden. I can barely speak when I get back to him, and stand pointing back towards the river, my mouth flapping uselessly.
‘What have you done now?’ He looks resigned, like he expects me to have walked into a tree or been bitten by something in the short time I’ve been away.
‘I saw an otter.’
‘You did not!’
‘I did! Well, it was either an otter or a mink.’
He stands up in one fluid motion. ‘Where?’
‘Swimming downstream. It might have gone now. I heard a splash from the bank opposite, and I waited, wondering what it was, and then there were bubbles and then the flat top of a head.’ I hurry after him back towards the river. ‘I was standing here,’ I say, indicating my clothes on the bank. ‘And I saw it about level with that rock down there.’
‘Just the one?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, if it’s the mother, where are the cubs?’
Obviously, I have no idea so I just shrug and stay silent.
‘It could have been a mink, I suppose.’
‘Maybe. I can’t tell the difference.’
‘Otters are bigger.’
I stay quiet, not wanting to point out that I’d only seen the top of its head and had nothing to compare it with anyway.
He puts his hands on his hips and makes a ‘hmph’ sound, staring downstream.
‘And you say it entered the water directly opposite?’
‘I think so. I didn’t see it go in, I heard the splash and caught a movement from the cor
ner of my eye.’
‘Okay.’ He paces up and down the bank, still staring off downstream, the wind stirring his dark hair. I’m starting to feel cold now and I wrap my arms around myself as moisture from my still-wet hair dribbles down my neck. ‘Okay,’ he repeats thoughtfully, more to himself than to me. ‘If I set up the hide here tonight, maybe it will be back out later.’ I step back as he circles the area, working out the best place to set up his equipment. Spotting bubbles in the water, I touch his arm and point. But there is no tell-tale flat brown head this time, just a trail in the water as it heads further downstream, away from us.
‘I suppose we should keep our distance,’ Aiden murmurs. ‘Otherwise she might get spooked and not come back.’
He stoops and retrieves my clothes from the river bank before carrying them back to camp. I feel a bit sick as I follow him, knowing my bra and pants are somewhere inside the bundle of clothes in his hand. Back at the tent, he tosses them carelessly on to the camping chair and goes to poke the little fire with a stick. I assume he’s brought my clothes back because he doesn’t want the otter scenting them, so I fold them up, tucking my underwear inside the pockets of my trousers.
‘Do you want to take me home now?’ I ask.
‘No,’ he says. ‘Can you stay a while? I want to concentrate on this.’
‘Okay. I just thought you’d want me out of the way.’
‘Not especially, and I can’t leave now if the otter’s out. Come and sit here by the fire and get warm. I’m going to set up my stuff.’ He passes me the stick. ‘If it starts to go out, give it a bit of a stir, but be careful not to set fire to the stick.’ He looks worried suddenly, and casts an anxious look towards his tent and the surrounding trees as if he expects me to burn the whole lot down to the ground.
‘Okay,’ I say with more confidence than I feel.
‘Maybe I’ll get you a bucket of water, just in case,’ he murmurs.
I roll my eyes at him. ‘Don’t worry, these things happen in threes, don’t they? I’ve done my ankle, got stuck in the bath and fallen in the river, so I’m golden now. Safe.’
‘Hmm.’ He raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing around his lips. ‘I’ll still be keeping a close eye on you, Orla Kennedy. Just in case.’
He sets about collecting his equipment together, and I stare into the flickering flames of the fire. Despite the heat it’s emitting, goose bumps line my arms and I rub my hands up and down them vigorously. Aiden obviously notices as he passes me a hooded sweatshirt to put on. It’s the same one I wore to hospital, and still smells faintly of my perfume. The soft material makes me feel better immediately, and I pull the sleeves down over my hands, hugging it around me as I settle down to watch him work.
Chapter 10
I watch Aiden through the trees, erecting the hide. It’s long and low, like a tunnel, so he can lie stretched out, watching the water. He’s got another hide further along that’s more upright, so he can sit on a chair inside it. I check my watch. It’s already nearly three o’clock. I don’t want to ask how long he’ll be, knowing he’s busy, but I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast and I’m starving.
He’s got some potatoes in his tent. I wonder if I should bake some in foil on the fire. I look for him, but he’s setting up some kind of lighting thing near the hide, so I just go and get the potatoes and foil and set about baking them myself.
‘Are you okay?’ He comes back over after about half an hour. ‘What are you cooking?’
‘Just some potatoes. I hope you don’t mind. I’m starving.’
‘No of course not.’ He sits down next to me and places a few more pieces of wood on the fire. ‘I’m sorry, I forgot about food. Do you want something now? I think I’ve got some crisps and a can of Coke or something?’
‘Yes please.’
He gets up and goes into his tent, returning a few moments later with the food. I’m so hungry I almost bite my fingers as I push the crisps into my mouth. Aiden sits down next to me, swigging from a can of Coke, and the fire crackles as smoke curls upwards. I find myself wishing it was dark already. A campfire is better in the dark.
‘Is there any sign of anything out there now?’
‘No, but it’s still early. Good job you saw it.’
‘Well, I hope it was an otter otherwise you’ll be wasting your time.’ I pull the ring on my can and take a good glug. The fizz stings the back of my throat, making me cough.
‘It could have been a mink, but I doubt it.’ He rubs my back as I continue to cough and splutter. ‘I’m not saying for sure there aren’t any around here, but I haven’t seen any. And from what you said it’s too big to be a water vole, but if it is that’s pretty good anyway.’ He scratches his arm and stares into the flames. ‘I just hope it comes back. If it doesn’t, hopefully it will have triggered some of the trail cams so I might get some shots on them, even if I don’t see it later on.’ I look up at him as he stands up, towering above me. From this angle, he’s all legs and hair, but he has an intensity about him that I don’t recognise. He’s usually laid back, but now he’s so focused on the task ahead of him that the air around him seems to crackle with energy. His excitement is contagious and I feel it stir inside of me too. Hurray! The otters are back! I feel giggly and oddly like clapping, but luckily I’m holding my Coke can so I don’t, which is good because I’ve made enough of an idiot of myself already.
Aiden disappears back down to the river and I stay by the fire. It’s strange but being down here has raked up old memories from when I was a child and camping with my mum and dad. We only went a couple of times. My mum didn’t like it, and I remember her being cross and irritable all the time we were there, bickering with my dad and snapping at me. I can’t even remember whereabouts in the country we went. The south coast, possibly. I just remember the grass and the sky and the sea in the distance. There were ponies in the next field, and they alone had made it feel magical. I so wanted a pony. I’d left Mum and Dad sniping at each other and sat in front of the fence, talking to the ponies and feeding them long stems of grass that I picked from around the fence post.
It feels strange thinking about camping with my parents now. It’s been so long since I pictured them together and it gives me a raw feeling in my stomach doing so now. I feel a wave of unhappiness remembering the arguments tempered with bouts of silent resentment from my mum. She doesn’t argue with my stepdad that much. But then he takes her on holidays to Spain and Portugal.
I sit, lost in my memories, until it occurs to me that I should be checking the potatoes. I gather plates and utensils, and find a long-pronged fork to retrieve the potatoes from the fire. Cooking at such a basic level is oddly satisfying and I feel almost triumphant as I spear a potato and pull it from the flames. Aiden comes back over and sits down next to me.
‘Do you have any butter?’
‘No. But I have baked beans.’
‘Ooh get them, get them!’
He gets back up and disappears into his tent before returning with a saucepan of beans. He holds it over the flames for a few minutes to warm them, and I wait, my mouth watering and stomach protesting at the hold-up. At last, they’re ready, and I get to eat. I’m only small, so I wonder how hungry Aiden feels when he’s so tall. There’s a lot of him to fill.
He eats fast, done in minutes, and then he’s back on his feet and setting up his equipment again. I eat slowly, savouring my food, mesmerised by the flames. Dusk creeps through the trees, silent and stealthy, and I’m surprised when I look up and everything is dark. How did it get so late when I’m just sitting here, staring into a fire? I have no idea how to clean the plates when I can’t go near the river for fear of scaring the otters, so I stack them together and stow them behind the tent before going to find Aiden.
It’s a bit lighter down by the river, the full moon rising in a navy-blue sky. I peer into Aiden’s hide where he’s lying stretched out, his face pressed up to his camera.
‘Hello?’ I whisper. ‘What do yo
u want me to do?’
‘Nothing.’ He shifts and lifts his head from his camera to look at me. ‘I’m just checking this lens will focus properly. I’m still having trouble with it.’
‘Where do you want me to be? Do you want me out of the way or in there with you or …?’
‘You can get your head down in my bed, if you like. No need for you to be uncomfortable.’ He crawls out of the hide and stands next to me. ‘Do what you like. I’m not bothered.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘You’re a crap date,’ I joke.
‘We’re on a date? Jesus! Try dressing better next time, you look like Jimmy Krankie.’ He tugs at the shorts I’m wearing and I grab his hand.
‘Careful! They’ll be around my ankles in a minute. I’m not even wearing any knickers.’
‘Oh!’ He backs up sharply, looking horrified. I’m surprised by how shocked he is. What did he think? That my knickers remained dry when all my other clothes were soaking wet? Although to be fair to him, he’s probably not given much thought to my knickers, thank goodness.
‘Maybe I should take you home.’ He rakes his hand through his hair and glances back at the river. He looks cornered, as though he doesn’t want to leave but doesn’t want me there either.
‘No need, I’m fine,’ I say quickly. ‘I’ve got my Kindle in my bag. I’ll go in your tent and read until I fall asleep.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yep.’ I smile and turn to go, wishing with all my heart I hadn’t mentioned my knickers. ‘What do I do if I need the loo?’
‘Go behind a tree, unless you can struggle up to the farm.’
‘Oh blimey, really?’
He shrugs as he bends to switch on one of his lights. Red light floods the river. ‘Just keep out of the infrared and you’ll be fine.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘And do it away from the tent. I don’t want to be lying there, smelling your wee for the rest of my time here.’
‘Of course. I’m not stupid.’ I’m glad it’s dark, because my face is on fire. ‘I’ll wee in your sleeping bag if you’re not careful.’
The Five-Year Plan: The utterly heart-warming and feel good rom com of 2020 Page 12
