The Hike(27)

Ginny stared at her. Her mouth curved into a smirk. ‘You’re preggers, aren’t you? I called it earlier – you not drinking late like us . . . these weird symptoms . . . it’s all stacking up.’ She rocked back on her heels, looking pleased with herself. Then winced and rolled forward on to her toes. ‘Jesus, my feet really fucking hurt.’

Cat shook her head. There she goes again, she thought, it’s all about her.

‘You should drink some water,’ Ginny said. ‘I’ll call on the boys. Get them to come back. You should have Paul with you.’

Cat just nodded, glad that her sister had found a little compassion at last. She sat down on the path and Ginny strode off. She looked uncomfortable in her painful shoes, but she kept on, calling out and waving, trying to get the attention of the others.

Cat took a sip of water, and hoped the nausea was under control for now. Her heart rate had slowed, and she felt much calmer. She was starting to understand why Ginny popped so many pills. It really must make her life much less stressful.

Cat looked up at the next part of the walk. Was she actually going to make it up this sharp incline? Should she be exerting herself like this, if what Ginny had suggested was true? It couldn’t be, could it? She was on the pill. Had been for years. That was the one medication that she had no qualms about taking. As for if she even wanted kids – she and Paul hadn’t broached the subject of pregnancy since early on in their relationship, when people had those sorts of conversations. It was as if they both instinctively knew that neither of them really wanted it.

It was just not something that ever crossed her mind. Cat hadn’t thought for a moment that she might be pregnant, and after what had gone on at home, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted a baby. At least, not with Paul.

Not after what he’d done.

But more than that . . . she’d barely let Paul near her since he’d been accused of assaulting his work colleague. So if he was the father, it was going to be big news for them both.





Twenty-One

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

Pigalle and Marchand have retreated to the back office and turned the volume up on the TV. The football is on. It’s PSG vs Marseille, but Thierry has never really been much interested in football. Annoyingly, Séb, being originally from Paris, is a PSG fan and has decided that watching the match is a reasonable compensation for having to come into work on a Sunday.

‘We’re not in here to watch this shit. You do realise that, don’t you, Séb?’ Thierry sighs and rolls his seat away from the desk, swivelling around to watch the other screen. The computer monitor is flicking between the reception area and each of the interview rooms. Later, he will fix it so that all three screens are visible at the same time, but it involves some fiddling with the settings, and he can’t quite remember how to do it. They don’t usually have to worry too much about the CCTV in this place, because nothing ever happens. The bigger police station in Aigle is where most of the action takes place. They’ve been talking about closing this small branch altogether, and Thierry hopes that they will, so that he can ditch this job and retrain in mountain rescue instead. Sandrine thinks this makes no sense because it will cause him to have to work more, not less, but Thierry is only forty-five and he’s not sure he can stomach another twenty years of this dull existence.

‘Goal!’ Séb jumps out of his seat and punches the air.

Thierry swivels back around to face him. ‘Look at them, Séb.’ He’s pointing at the man and the woman in the reception area. ‘Look at their body language . . . Merde! Can you fix this so it just shows the reception?’

Séb leans over and clicks the mouse a few times. Thierry can smell stale alcohol and fried bacon wafting through the other man’s shirt, and the faint undertone of a spicy deodorant he’s used in an attempt to block out the other aromas. Thierry wrinkles his nose. ‘Out last night, were you?’

‘Marianne took me to that new place in Ollon. Barbecue and cocktails. Might’ve had a few too many.’ He glances at Thierry. ‘Don’t worry, I walked in.’ He rolls his seat over next to Thierry. They both watch the screen.

The man is peering into the fish tank. His mouth is moving, but they can’t hear what he’s saying. The woman is sitting on the sofa by the window, her face turned away from him. Her arms are crossed and she is hunched into herself, as if trying to roll into a little ball.

‘Why are they not telling us what happened to their friends?’ Séb zooms in on the man’s mouth, but the man is no longer talking. Just staring at the fish. He stands up straight, and his expression looks pained. He walks slowly over to the other sofa and sits down, then he leans back and closes his eyes.

Thierry frowns. ‘And why don’t they want to go to the hospital? Or even their hotel? I don’t like this. Not at all.’

‘They were on the Argentine, right? They said that much.’ Séb picks up his phone and starts scrolling.

‘So she said, but she’s said little else so who knows. Who are you calling?’

‘My friend Albert works up at the Refuge. He will have been there yesterday, all day. If our couple were there, and the “missing” couple, then he’ll have seen them. I can ask if there was anything strange—’

‘Ah . . .’ Thierry raises a hand. ‘Our couple. They mentioned their friends. They didn’t say they were a couple.’