The Hike(47)

Cat felt like a multitude of angry ants were crawling up her arms. ‘Where did you get that torch?’

Something flashed in his eyes, then was quickly damped down. ‘Would you believe it was in the side pocket of my bag all along? I was sure I’d packed it in Ginny’s bag, but I found it when we got here.’ He shone the beam at the floor, to where his bag sat, most of the contents spilled out around it. ‘What an idiot.’

She wanted to believe him, but she wasn’t sure she could. After all, if she was capable of double-crossing him, he could certainly do it to her. She’d needed to ensure that she was getting the money, that’s all. It had only taken a minute in the car, with his phone and hers – the verification codes shared to one another’s phones. If it had been his money, he’d have done the same.

Except it wasn’t his money. And he had no right to it.

She laid a hand on her stomach. The baby was a complication. Possibly. There was next to no chance that it was Paul’s.

Tristan picked up the two blankets and took them over to the far side of the room, away from the door. ‘We should snuggle up. Share the warmth. We’ve still got a few hours to wait it out in here.’ He sat with his back against the wall and pulled one of the blankets over him.

When she didn’t answer, he looked up at her. ‘Cat? What’s up?’

‘Are you sure there was no one out there? Only, I thought I heard a noise upstairs. When you were out . . .’

Tristan sighed. ‘There’s no one outside and there’s no one upstairs. How would they get up there, anyway? I told you, the stairs are buggered.’

‘But what if they got in another way? Climbed up from outside—’

‘Why would anyone do that, when there’s a perfectly functioning front door and a room in here to sleep in?’ He shook his head. ‘You’re letting your imagination run away with you. Come over here. Sit with me.’

‘And there was definitely no one outside? What if that . . . shepherd—’

‘There was no one out there. I promise.’

She wasn’t sure if his promises were up to much in this situation, but she went and joined him anyway. For the next few hours, she would have no choice but to be with him, and the two of them might as well be warm. Once they got back down the mountain, Tristan might find there’d been a change of plan. But for now, she needed to stop overthinking it all.

Cat sat down beside Tristan and shuffled in close. He pulled her blanket up, and folded the two together in the middle, then leaned over and tucked hers underneath on her side. She was grateful for his care. The temperature had dipped considerably since they’d been in the house. The flickering candles gave the impression of warmth, but it was all fake. Just like her relationship with Ginny had been. She’d always been sad about it. The fracture had started in their early teenage years and widened over time, but although it hurt, she’d found her own ways to deal with it. Until the events of the last few months had caused her to snap.

She’d had enough of people walking all over her. Thinking they’d get away with it because she was kind. Well, maybe being kind was overrated. She’d been played for a fool by all the people she’d thought she was close to, and it had caused her to harden her shell.

Tristan had rested his head on her shoulder and was snoring gently. Typical man. Paul had been the same. No matter what had been going on, if he’d needed to sleep, he would switch off like a light, while Cat spent her time tossing and turning. Churning everything round and round in her head. Just like she was doing now.

She decided to take a leaf out of Tristan’s book. She sat back against the wooden wall, tried to brush away thoughts of insects crawling down and into her hair. Her ears. Her open mouth, even, if she did manage to fall asleep. It’s only a couple of hours. Then they could get back down to the village, and the first awful part of this would be over.

Cat closed her eyes. Shuffled closer to Tristan. She was drifting off when she heard the noise outside. Another twig snapping. An animal, she told herself, half smiling in her almost-sleep. Then there was a long, slow creak, and a cold draught hit her as the front door opened slowly inwards.





Forty

SATURDAY NIGHT

He opened the door slowly, not entirely sure what he was walking in on. He knew they were in there. He’d tracked them for hours, staying hidden. Keeping his distance. There’d been a couple of occasions where he was sure that one of them had seen him, and he’d prepared himself for that. After all, he had no idea if they would even make it to safety. He’d spotted the old house before they got there, taking an alternate route through the woods with only the moonlight and the sounds of their distant footsteps to guide him. He had a torch, but it was the kind that helped you find the keyhole to get into your house when you were drunk and swaying on your own doorstep. It didn’t emit any kind of beam that would help him.

He’d stayed near the waterfall when they’d gone into the house. Him first, then her. He’d sat on a rock near the pool, the sounds of the splashing water making him feel less alone.

He stepped into the house, staying as quiet as he could. He hadn’t expected to find them so quickly. The flickering candles highlighted their conjoined shape, the two of them huddled together at the back of the room.

She was awake. Her eyes shining in the candlelight, widening in fear as he stepped closer.