The Hike(31)

‘Want to make me?’

Cat’s hands came up instinctively, palms flat on her sister’s chest. On the warm, sticky skin above the neck of Ginny’s t-shirt.

‘Cat . . . for fuck’s sake!’ Paul’s voice shook. ‘Stop it.’

Tristan yelled right into her ear. ‘No!’ He grabbed her arm.

But it was too late.

Cat shifted her weight on to her heels, her hands staying on Ginny’s chest. Their eyes locked. She was no longer thinking as she gave her sister one firm push.

And then Ginny was gone.





Twenty-Five

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

The woman is sitting on the steps outside the police station, smoking. Pigalle watched as she flagged down a passer-by and asked for a cigarette. The teenager who stopped gave her three cigarettes, and she’s already on the second. She inhales hard, then chokes on the thick smoke. She looks like someone who has not smoked for a while. Interesting that she has chosen now to start again.

‘I like to take a coffee when I smoke. Thought you might too?’

Pigalle sits down beside her, and hands her a white mug filled to the brim with thick, dark liquid. It smells almost like tobacco. ‘It’s a little strong, but it helps clear the mind,’ he says.

She accepts it with a grateful smile. ‘Thank you,’ she says. He follows her gaze as she looks back to the road, and the wide pavement where people are milling around, going about their day. She is probably wondering if she can trust him.

‘I’m afraid it is going to be some time longer before your embassy assistance is here.’

She sighs. ‘It’s been two hours already. It’s only one hour to Bern by car, isn’t it?’

Pigalle lights a cigarette just as she stubs hers out on the bottom step, grinding the butt with her heel.

He blows out a plume of smoke. ‘Maybe two hours, with these roads. And maybe Sunday traffic. But there’s been a problem on the road. A . . .’ He pauses. ‘How do you say it . . . the falling rocks?’

‘An avalanche? Aren’t they a winter thing . . .’ Her voice trails off, as if she is remembering something. She shakes her head. ‘We met a couple of hikers at the start. They were telling us we should take a different route. Said there had been some rock falls . . .’

‘Yes, a rock fall,’ Pigalle confirms. ‘Luckily no one has been hurt, but the road is currently blocked. They will have to turn back and find another route, I think. Or perhaps they will wait for the team who will come to clear the road—’

‘And how long will that take? For them to clear it?’

He shrugs. ‘Je ne sais pas,’ he says. He smiles. ‘I don’t know.’ He flicks his cigarette into a drain. ‘How long is a piece of string – that is what you say, is it not?’

The woman swears under her breath, then holds out her hands in front of her. They’re shaking. ‘No more of that coffee,’ she says.

Pigalle stands up and walks to the bottom of the steps, then turns to face her. ‘Are you OK, madame? You don’t look so good. Maybe it’s time for you to tell us more about what happened? We don’t have to wait for the embassy, we can—’

‘I know. I know!’ She stands, and she is taller than him now, from two steps up. She balls her hands into fists. Takes a breath. ‘I’m sorry.’ Her chest sags. ‘I just want to make sure that everything is documented correctly . . . and I . . . I don’t want to go to the hotel or do anything else until they come. In case there’s evidence . . .’

He stands up straighter in front of her. ‘Evidence, madame? Of what? You said your friends are missing . . .’

She shakes her head. ‘Yes. No. I mean, yes, they are. It’s just that . . .’ She glances around towards the window of the station, where the man is standing, looking out. His face is stony. Pigalle follows her gaze.

‘You are scared of him, madame?’

She turns back to face the road. Pigalle watches her carefully.

She swallows. ‘Yes,’ she says, quietly. ‘Yes I am.’





Twenty-Six

SATURDAY EVENING

Tristan watched in horror as Ginny’s small body flew into the air like a ragdoll. Her eyes were wide in shock, but it took a moment before she screamed. The sound dissipated quickly as she disappeared off the edge of the mountain. The momentum knocked Cat backwards and she landed hard on the flat stone, with an ‘oof’ as the breath left her lungs.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, what have you done?’ Paul stepped to the edge and looked over. ‘She’s gone. I can’t even see her.’ He stepped back, whirled around to face Tristan. ‘Mate . . . I don’t even . . .’

Tristan felt a million emotions at once. There was horror, of course. Then there was fear. Fear for what was going to happen next. Shock, yes. Because it was not supposed to happen like this. And finally, relief. Because it was done now, and there was no going back.

Stick to the plan.

He walked to the edge and looked down. Ginny was nowhere to be seen. It was a straight drop. A long drop. There was no way of knowing how far she’d fallen, or where she’d landed. There were other paths below, more treacherous ones – for climbers rather than hikers. There were trees. And jagged, unpassable rocks. Probably other hazards too. It didn’t bear thinking about.