‘I just want to go home.’ Ginny was crying.
Paul and Tristan had stayed apart, but their faces revealed all. Cat knew that Tristan had been in fights in the past – usually after too much to drink – but he had that fire in him now and it scared her. Paul’s anger would fade soon, if she knew anything about her husband at all. Which in recent months had proven doubtful. Maybe it would be good if the pair of them laid into one another. It wasn’t how she wanted things to unfold, but it might be the easiest option. She was starting to have second thoughts about her plans, but they’d come too far now. They just had to keep going.
Cat moved away from the men, and across to Ginny. She was still crying, her shoulders shaking with the weight of her sobs. Cat actually felt sorry for her for a moment, despite the bickering and the fact that she was a monumental pain in the arse and a total drama queen. And, of course, there was the money.
It was really all about their parents’ money, and the years of betrayal that it represented. But just as she was about to say some soothing words, Ginny turned on her, a finger pointed at her chest.
‘This is your fault, Catastrophe. None of us wanted to come up here and do this stupid bloody walk. It’s far too much. We’re not hikers. Those two we met at the start clearly thought we were off our heads.’ She jabbed her finger into Cat’s chest. ‘You need to get us out of this.’ Jab. ‘Now.’
Cat stepped back. ‘Get your fucking hands off me, you little cow.’
‘Ladies, ladies . . .’ Tristan was there, dragging Ginny away.
‘Come on, Cat. This isn’t helping.’ Paul tried to pull her away. Cat felt another flurry of light-headedness, the same as when she’d slipped on the rocks earlier in the day. She gripped Paul’s hand, hating the feel of his skin.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. Was she, though? Mostly she was just tired, and struggling to find the energy to carry on with all of this.
Paul sounded confused. ‘What are you sorry for? You haven’t done a thing wrong.’ He paused. ‘Other than asking Tristan to help you plan this. I’m not sure what you were thinking . . .’
No, and I won’t be telling you, either, Cat thought. She called on her reserves and gave him a weak smile. ‘I think I was a bit ambitious with the plans. Ginny’s right, for once. We’re not really hikers.’
They walked ahead, leaving Tristan and Ginny to catch up with them. Cat was sick of the arguing, but she had to stay strong. It would all be worth it in the end, when she was back in the village. The point of the trip was to right some wrongs, and she’d already set the ball rolling by mentioning the money to Ginny. They’d continue it, and it would be sorted. Then she would confront Paul, and that would be dealt with too. It really was that simple. She just had to remember that.
She let go of Paul’s hand, wiping away his sweat on her shorts. She had to keep it together. She had to find enough strength to make it to the end.
‘Guys, wait up,’ Tristan called from behind. ‘We need to stay together.’
They were coming to the end of the gravel path, heading away from the trees and towards the steep drop. Cat had felt safe on the wider, meadow-type area – and she was starting to feel a bit nauseous at the thought of being so close to the edge again. But there was no other way that was obvious to any of them, so she’d just have to get on with it. She let the others overtake her, slowing her pace just a little. Taking a few calming breaths, after a moment the squeamish feeling passed.
They passed another cluster of trees, and this time, the rustling was unmistakable. She had seen a flash of a red coat earlier, but hadn’t said anything to Ginny. She recalled that one of the hikers they’d met earlier in the day was wearing red. And he’d spent too long looking her up and down, too. She really hoped it wasn’t him in the trees, following them. She didn’t need any added complications.
Her heart was fluttering. She stopped walking. ‘Who’s there?’
The others turned towards her. ‘Oh, what now?’ Tristan said. ‘Not this again.’
He looked her hard in the eye; she felt that he was trying to tell her to drop this. To carry on. This wasn’t part of the plan. And he was right – it wasn’t. But there was definitely someone watching them.
‘There is someone . . . Right. There.’ She pointed. ‘In those trees.’
Tristan swore, then yanked the straps of his rucksack off and dropped it on the ground. ‘Right . . . I’ve had enough of this shit.’ He marched into the trees, pushing branches aside to make way. ‘Hello? Who the fuck’s there? Come out, come out, whoever you are . . .’