The Hike(60)

‘In fairness, it didn’t seem too arduous. We were expecting to be up and down within five hours . . .’

‘I sense a “but” . . .’

‘We met a couple of hikers early on, right at the start. They said there’d been some rock falls. That some of the paths were loose. They tried to tell us to take another route, but—’

‘But you didn’t listen.’

Paul shrugged. ‘It really didn’t seem so bad. Tristan—’

Dobbs clicked his pen. ‘Tristan? Who is he, then? Where is he now?’

‘He’s Ginny’s husband. My brother-in-law. He’s . . . he’s gone too.’ Paul felt the sweat start to pool at the top of his shorts. It was cold. Despite the heat in his body, he was freezing all of a sudden. He shuffled in his seat, grabbing the sides of the blanket behind him and pulling it up over his shoulders, wrapping it around and gripping it tightly across his chest. ‘He . . . he went crazy.’

Dobbs’s mouth dropped open. He let go of his pen and it rolled across his notebook and on to the table. He took a moment to compose himself before picking it up again, his finger poised on the top, ready to click. ‘Go on . . .’

‘You’ve got to understand . . . we were all exhausted. We were in shock about Ginny. None of us knew what to do.’ All of this was the truth, at least. There was no need to act out the emotions for this part. He had definitely been in shock when Ginny fell, even if the others had been somewhat expecting it to happen. Given that they’d planned it. ‘Tristan was mad with grief. Cat went almost catatonic for a while.’ The lump in his throat was growing like a tumour. He remembered Ginny bickering with Cat. Calling her by that nickname. He swallowed the lump down. ‘But Tristan . . . he just flipped. After he tried to climb down and find Ginny, he just started rambling nonsense. Then he ran off.’ Paul lowered his eyes, trying to avoid Dobbs’s gaze during the lie.

When he looked up again, Dobbs was looking sceptical. ‘Ran off where? Did you see him again?’

Paul took a moment. He had a choice. He could still tell the truth. Ultimately, he’d done nothing wrong. He was a victim. He’d acted in self-defence. Cat was the one behind it all. Cat was the one who would go to prison if the truth revealed itself.

But they had an agreement. They would both lie to save Cat from prison, and she would stay quiet about the other business. She knew the real truth, she’d said. And it would ruin him if it got out. If the police re-opened the case and he was found guilty, he would never work again. No one wanted a sex offender in their workplace. Even if it was all her own fault.

Bloody Samantha.

The whole situation sucked, but if they could both get out of it and remain free, then he’d find a way to live with himself. He wondered how Cat was getting on in the room next door. These same questions. These same answers. He hoped she wasn’t cracking under the pressure.

‘Mr Baxendale? Paul?’ Dobbs’s voice was softer now. Some sympathy edging in. ‘Did you see Tristan again?’

Paul shook his head. Decision made.

‘No. We never saw him again.’





Forty-Eight

SUNDAY EVENING

Cat wiped her eyes with a tissue from the cellophane pack provided. Her hands were shaking as she balled the tissue up, clutching it tightly in her fist. ‘I’m sorry.’ She sniffed, then wiped at her eyes again with the back of her hand. ‘It’s just been so difficult, having to share space with him while we waited.’

The woman on the other side of the desk took a pen and a notepad out of her leather satchel. She’d already introduced herself as Lydia Pearson, from the British Embassy in Bern. She’d travelled with her colleague Matthew Dobbs. She apologised again about the delay. Her face was smooth in the way that only someone who’s never abused their skin with alcohol, smoking or sun can boast. Her blue eyes were sharp but kind. She was looking at Cat with sympathy and, so far, she hadn’t pressed for Cat to say anything about what had happened.

If she thought it strange that Cat and Paul had refused to go into detail about their situation prior to now, she didn’t show it. Cat smiled, and the woman smiled back.

‘Take your time, Catherine. I’m sure this is very difficult, but please be assured that I am here to help you. OK?’

Cat nodded. ‘Call me Cat. Please. Only my parents called me Catherine.’ She glanced away. ‘I don’t want to think about them right now.’ Another sob escaped. ‘They’d be devastated about Ginny.’

‘Your sister, is that right?’

Cat nodded again. She’d blurted out most of the story earlier, but it had been garbled and mostly incoherent, and now it was time for her to take things calmly. She needed to get this right. Her future would depend on what she said next.

‘We often went on weekends away with Ginny and Tristan. They were good company. Obviously things were difficult for a while, you know, when we were all locked down and couldn’t really travel and what have you. This was actually our first trip abroad for about two years.’ She stifled another sob.

Lydia pulled another tissue out of the packet and handed it to her. ‘And things were going OK? No issues to be concerned about before you started the hike yesterday morning?’

Cat shook her head, the lies flowing effortlessly. ‘Nothing. Ginny and Tristan were happy. It was nice to see, as I know they’d had a bit of a rocky patch with Tristan being stuck working from home and Ginny feeling a bit like she was messing up his usual daily routine.’ She looked down at the table. Sighed. Then lifted her head again. ‘As for me and Paul . . . well.’