The Hike(17)

Cat pushed her stool back, the wooden legs shrieking across the floor. ‘I’m going to the toilet.’





Ten

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

He watched them as they entered the restaurant. He was facing the other direction, but he could see everything from where he was sitting, via the mirror behind the bar.

Best seat in the house.

He liked to watch. And watching those who had no idea that they were being observed was the best part of all.

There were two blondes. He’d always liked blondes. But although the two of them were similar – same generic shorts and t-shirts in the same boring colours, same hairstyles, similar features – it was the one who was holding court that he liked the most.

She was talking them through the menu, and the others were hanging on to her every word; trusting that she knew what she was talking about. He liked that level of self-assuredness in a woman. He liked the way her mouth moved as she spoke. He liked her lips; her wide, expressive mouth. Her bright, intelligent eyes.

He pretended to be interested in his companion’s conversation, but he was only half listening. He was mostly thinking up ways of how he could initiate a conversation with the better of the blondes.

He didn’t have to wait long.

He heard the screech of her stool against the floor as she stood up from the table and headed towards the toilet.

His companion was dull, like most of the people in this bar. He’d spent a month in the area now, hiking the trails, helping out with some of the forestry clearances. It’d been a change from his usual way of life but it wasn’t something he intended to do for much longer. It had already served its purpose. He felt like every day he’d spent here had been building towards this moment.

He was looking at his companion’s phone, some pathetic video on YouTube that he had to pretend to find funny, when he sensed her behind him. He looked in the mirror again, and there she was.

He turned to her and smiled.

She gave him a half-smile back. Barely there, but enough. Like she was nervous. But that was alright.

She had a beautiful smile. A beautiful face. A beautiful body.

She was perfect.





Eleven

SATURDAY AFTERNOON

She left them laughing at the table and locked herself in the single cubicle – her mind going back to the night before, to the toilet in the bar, pushing Tristan away. What would Ginny think if she knew about that?

No doubt Ginny was already spilling the beans about Cat’s experiences in France in her absence. But Cat doubted that Ginny’s half a story would really interest the others that much. Ginny was shit at anecdotes, even if they were her own – so a second-hand one with the vital details missing would have no impact whatsoever. Anyway, it had happened a long time ago. When she was a different person. Before her sister’s inadequacies got Cat sidelined from her own family. Her parents having to spend their time coaching Ginny – who’d failed her exams – into the next phase of her life. Poor Virginia, they’d said. She never had your brains, Catherine.

More like she did, but she chose not to use them. Ginny had always wanted to be looked after. Saw herself as a princess, destined never to lift a finger except to admire her perfect manicure.

And she’d got away with it for years, until their parents had died, crashing into a bridge at the bottom of the winding, single-track lane that led to their house – and nothing had been the same again. Cat hadn’t found out until much later that the reason they weren’t paying attention to the road was because they were distressed after learning that Ginny had been lying to them.

Ginny had spent several years convincing their parents that Cat didn’t care about them, didn’t need them, didn’t want anything to do with them. And all the while Cat had felt like she was being frozen out . . . because instead of asking Cat, they had believed all that Ginny told them. They had believed that when Cat didn’t call, it was because she didn’t care, and not because she was busy working, building her business; living a life that Ginny seemed unable to create for herself while she waited around, expecting Prince Charming to come along and scoop her up.

Cat hadn’t found out any of this until a few months ago. When Tristan told her.

She stopped by the bar on the way back from the toilet to ask for a round of coffees. One of the men from earlier got up and went to the toilet. The other was facing towards the bar again, gazing down at his espresso cup, but Cat could see his eyes lift as he caught a glance of her in the mirror behind the bar.

He turned to her, his eyes dropping briefly to her neckline, where she was rolling her pendant between her fingers. His gaze went back to her face and he gave her a lazy smile. ‘Enjoy your lunch?’ he said. His eyes were green and intense. He spoke French, but his accent was light.

She pushed the necklace back inside her t-shirt. ‘Yes. Thank you. Back to the hike soon though. We’re on the last part of the loop now, I think.’

His gaze had become unnerving, and she was glad when he turned back to the bar. He picked up his coffee and took a sip. ‘The last part may be a little tough. Hang in there.’ His friend had returned and was sitting on the stool to his other side. Espresso Man swivelled around to face him and the two started talking again, rapidly in French. Too fast for her to pick up. But then he turned back and said something else, his voice low, so that the other man didn’t hear. Something that he wanted only Cat to hear.