But now . . .
‘Cat? What was Ginny going on about? Before she fell?’ He was still holding the Huntsman. ‘Cat? How did she know about Ascot? You said she never took on anything to do with the work bookings . . .’
‘Paul . . .’ she started, but then she didn’t carry on. There was a rattle of metal, then that shearing sound of the rope being pulled. Tightened. Pulled. Breaths. Grunts. Shearing. Something hitting against rock. He turned back towards the edge. A hand appeared, reaching. Then another.
Tristan was back.
Paul slipped the knife back into his pocket and went to help him to safety.
Twenty-Eight
SATURDAY EVENING
Tristan pulled himself on to the flat rock. He had one foot up, ready to push himself to standing, when Paul stepped over and outstretched a hand. Tristan took it and climbed back to safety, then headed straight across to where Cat sat.
He crouched down in front of her. ‘Are you OK?’
Cat gave him a small nod. He could barely see her now. The light around them had turned to a dark granite, with only the glint of the moon for company. The silvery rocks they’d been climbing were all but black.
Paul pulled him by the shoulder and Tristan turned to face him. ‘What?’ he snapped, and he saw Paul flinch. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Jesus.’ He stood up, rubbed his eyes with his palms. ‘This is a nightmare.’
Paul snorted. ‘Are you for real? Where’s Ginny? What happened down there?’
Tristan rubbed his hands up over his forehead and into his hair. Pulled it a bit until it stung. ‘I couldn’t see her. The light was already too far gone.’
‘You were gone ages. You must’ve seen her. I don’t understand.’
You never will, mate, Tristan thought. ‘She’s gone. There’s no way she survived that.’
Cat let out a small sob and he turned around and crouched back down to be close to her. ‘Hey. Come on. It was an accident. We need to stick together here.’
Paul pushed him from behind and he fell forward on to his knees. He tried to twist around into a sitting position, but keeled over a bit before righting himself.
‘An accident? Are you mad?’
Cat was properly crying now.
Paul loomed over him. He stank of sweat and fear. ‘Why the fuck do you care more about Cat than your wife?’
Tristan sat up and looked up at Paul, with his big, sweaty face too close to his. ‘Why do you care more about Ginny?’
‘Stop it,’ Cat said. Her earlier despair seemed to have faded away. She almost seemed like she was enjoying watching them fight.
Tristan couldn’t be arsed with all this. He’d just exerted himself far too much with that climb down and back up, and for what? He was never bringing Ginny back up with him. He was glad the cam had held the rope, and even gladder that he’d only slipped once, and hadn’t had to test its capabilities too much.
‘Look,’ Tristan said. ‘Ginny is gone. We’re not getting her back. Yes, that is going to be a lot to process, but for now we need to look after Cat. And we need to get ourselves down this mountain and we need to alert the authorities, OK?’ He took a breath. ‘It doesn’t surprise me that you’re letting your emotions get the better of you here, mate. I know you couldn’t hack it in our real world of managing the funds of the ludicrously wealthy, and all that entails. But you need to man the fuck up here, now. Your wife needs you.’
‘You really are a heartless prick.’
Tristan stood up to face Paul. He could see the fight was going out of him. He knew Paul was struggling with what had happened, and he wasn’t getting the reactions he’d expected. Even Cat wasn’t too bothered anymore. She had stopped crying, but she was still looking at him and Paul, waiting to see what was going to happen next. Paul had probably expected Tristan to care a bit more about his wife, but the truth was, he hadn’t cared much about Ginny for years. Possibly ever. He’d done his best at playing the ‘decent husband’， but it didn’t come easily, and when pushed to extremes today, it seemed like his carefully constructed mask had slipped. It was unfortunate, but couldn’t be helped. Cat had always been the better prospect. He should’ve dumped Ginny and moved on to Cat the moment they’d met, instead of inflicting snivelling Paul on her.
Tristan glanced down, and realised that he hadn’t unclipped the rope from his belt. Jesus, what a rookie mistake. He hadn’t wound the rope up yet either, and if it slid for any reason, he’d be pulled off the side with it. He eyed Paul, seeing if he’d noticed. He wouldn’t put it past him to toss the rope off the side. Paul might pretend to be a good guy too – maybe he was one, deep down – but there was something more to him. Something that he was doing his best to conceal. Tristan didn’t buy his burnout story for a minute, which is why he kept bringing it up. Something else had definitely happened to make Paul leave that six-figure job with crazy perks and bonuses. Maybe Cat would tell him later. Once this was all over.