A Quiet Kind of Thunder(74)

Maybe you should tell her the truth?

I can’t do that now. It’s too late.

You were going to tell her eventually anyway. Better now than later, right?

I hesitate. He’s right. But a selfish little twist in my head knows how Tem will react if I tell her where I am – what! Wow! Why! Etc. I want to be in my Bronze and Gold bubble for just a little longer. There’ll be time enough for a best friend debrief.

I tap out a reply, trying to shut off the ‘guilt’ portion of my brain.

Steffi:

I can’t right now! SORRY! xx



Tem:

Steffffff ?



plays the girlfriend card



I put my phone back down on the table and watch as Rhys steals the last bite of French toast. He smiles at me. Ready to go?

I nod distractedly. My phone has lit up already.



But I need you ?

plays the best friend card



Want to phone me?

I’ll answer. And talk xxx



No! Want to talk face-to-faaaaace.



I feel the tiniest flicker of irritation. Since when is Tem so needy? Why can’t she wait for once? I can see that there’s going to be no way around telling her exactly where I am and why I can’t drop everything to go and see her, at least not until I get back home on Sunday.

But I can’t bear the thought of spoiling the magic of today with the reality of an argument. If she’s going to be annoyed with me anyway, I can put it off for a little while. I’ll phone her after I’ve climbed Arthur’s Seat. Surely I’ve earned an extra hour in all our years of friendship?

OK, I sign, smiling at Rhys. I turn off notifications from WhatsApp on my phone and push it into my pocket. Let’s go and climb a mountain.

Rhys is right. The views are amazing.

We don’t even need to be walking for very long before it’s possible to turn around and look out at Edinburgh. Wow, I say to Rhys. If it’s like this from here, what’s it like at the top?

He laughs. The same. But higher.

We don’t rush. For the most part he walks ahead of me and I follow his lead, turning in circles every few steps to see how the view changes each time. We stop about halfway up and sit on the grass so we can have a proper conversation as well as a breather. He tells me about the first time he visited Edinburgh as a kid, how he’d gone to see the rugby with his dad and older brother and got lost in the crowd. Did you cry? I ask, and he looks surprised.

No, he says. I knew they’d find me.

We walk for a while more hand in hand, side by side in easy silence. I am thinking about French toast and Creme Eggs, whether we’ll have sex again tonight, how I haven’t yet told Tem that I’ve lost my virginity even though I always promised I would. I wonder what Aled will say when we turn up on his doorstep. How my parents will react when I tell them where I am.

Rhys’s hand drops mine and touches my wrist. Look. He points. A kestrel.

I’ve never seen a kestrel before. I watch it hover then swoop, disappearing from view.

Come on. Rhys taps my hand again and gestures. Let’s look for it.

Why? I ask. Are you going to try to catch it?

He’s already off, scampering across the grass in the general direction of the kestrel. He turns as he goes. I need a picture! he signs. For my dad!

I roll my eyes and grin at him, waving him off and turning away to look back out over the view. Edinburgh is beautiful, I think for the millionth time. I watch a plane coming in to land over the water. I can just about make out the BA logo on the side. I think of all the people inside, coming home, beginning a holiday or going to a business meeting, perhaps. Looking out of the windows at the city growing larger beneath them.

I bounce a little on my feet, take in the air in a deep breath, then turn back round. Rhys has gone. I blink at the empty air where I’d last seen him, then do a slow 360-degree turn, scanning the hill for his familiar broad shoulders, his smiling face. No Rhys.

How long does it take to photograph a bird? How far has he decided to go? I frown at his absence, waiting for him to reappear, but anxiety is already starting to scratch at me. Could he be hiding behind a bush, ready to jump out and scare me? No. We don’t do that to each other.

I know I’m being stupid. Silly, overreacting, anxious Steffi. But it’s Rhys. How can I be rational when it’s Rhys?

A minute goes by, and he doesn’t reappear. My heart is starting to beat faster; I can feel panic preparing itself in my chest. I look all around me, but I’m alone. Alone, on the top of a mountain in Scotland.

‘Rhys!’ I shout instinctively, even though it’s pointless and stupid. ‘Rhys?’ For the first time ever, I wish my boyfriend could hear.

I stumble over the rocky path and on to the grass where I last saw him, my anxiety now elevated to full-on alarm-bell levels. There’s an incline to the grass that I hadn’t noticed from where I was standing before and I follow it down, heart jack-rabbiting, and then I see him. I see him, and I swear my heart stops.

Rhys, lying on his side on the ground, not even five feet away from me. Rhys, head touching the dust. Rhys, motionless.

‘Rhys!’ This time the word comes out like a gasp. Who would I be shouting for? No one but myself. I close the distance between us and fall to my knees beside him, reaching out and taking hold of his arm. ‘Rhys. Rhys.’