Watching her die will always be the worst thing that ever happened to me.
‘What shall we do now?’ Amelia asks, interrupting my thoughts.
It was a long and steep climb to the top of this hill – both of us are unsuitably dressed for the hike and the weather – and it seems it was all for nothing. Neither of us has a signal on our phones, even up here. There’s no sign of Bob or any way of calling for help. I can see the chapel in the distance down below, and it looks so much smaller than before. Less threatening. The sky, on the other hand, has darkened since we left. The clouds seem determined to block out the sun, and Amelia is shivering. It was OK when we were on the move, but I feel the cold too since we stopped, and I know we shouldn’t stand still for long. When you reach the top of a hill, you can often look back and see the whole path you took to make the journey. But while you’re on the path, it’s sometimes impossible to see where you are going or where you have been. It feels like a metaphor for life, and I’d be tempted to write the thought down if I wasn’t so damn cold. I take one final look around, but other than the chapel and the cottage, there really is nothing to see except a snow-covered landscape for miles in all directions.
‘I guess we really are in the middle of nowhere,’ I say.
‘I’m freezing,’ she replies through chattering teeth. ‘Poor Bob.’
I take off my jacket and wrap it around her. ‘Come on, let’s go. We’ll light the fire when we get back, get warm, and come up with another plan. It will be easier going down.’
I’m wrong about that.
The ground seems even more slippery now than it did on the way up, and a combination of snow and ice makes our progress slow. The muddy sky turns a darker shade of grey, and although we both do a good job of pretending not to notice the first few drops of sleet, seconds later it is impossible to ignore. Our clothes are not designed to withstand extreme winter weather, and neither are we. The wind blows the sleet at us from all directions, and within minutes we are both soaked to the skin. Even I’m shivering now.
Just when I think things can’t get any worse – weather-wise – the sleet turns to hail, raining down from the sky like bullets. I predict we will be covered in bruises when we get back. If we get back. Whenever I dare to look up, risking a face full of tiny ice pellets, I notice that we don’t seem to be getting any further down the hill. The chapel still looks tiny and very far away.
The pelting from above eases off, and the hail turns into snow.
‘Let’s try and make a bit more progress while we can,’ I say, reaching out to help Amelia down from one part of the rocky path to another. But she doesn’t take my hand.
‘I can see someone,’ she says, staring into the distance.
I shield my eyes, scan the valley below, but see nothing. ‘Where?’
‘Going into the chapel,’ Amelia whispers, as though they might hear her from what must still be over a mile away.
Sure enough, I spot the shape of a person walking up the chapel steps.
I feel for the giant key I locked the old wooden doors with before we left, and start to relax when I find it in my pocket. But my brief sense of comfort evaporates, as I watch the shadowy figure open the doors and disappear inside. I’m sure I must have imagined it – though it’s hard to be certain of anything from this distance – but it looked like they might have been wearing a red kimono. Just like the one my mother used to wear when she invited… friends to stay. I try to Control-Alt-Delete the thought, as always, but the keys in my mind get stuck. I might have imagined what they were wearing, but someone did just go into the chapel. Even if I ran down the hill, and managed not to slip on the ice or fall in the snow, I guess it would take at least twenty minutes to get back down there and confront whoever just let themselves in.
‘Tell me how we ended up staying at this place again,’ I say, in a shaky voice that sounds like a poor imitation of my own.
‘I already told you. I won the weekend away in the staff Christmas raffle.’
‘And you found out when you received an email?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the email was from…？’
‘The housekeeper. I told you already.’
‘Did anyone else you know at work win something similar?’
‘Nina got a box of Quality Street, but she bought twenty raffle tickets so was bound to win something.’
‘How many raffle tickets did you buy?’ I ask, already dreading the answer.