The Hike(7)

‘It just looks so high,’ Ginny whined under her breath as she unclipped her seatbelt.

Tristan jumped out of the car first, shading his eyes with his hand as he looked up at the mountains that surrounded them. ‘We’re only ascending about a kilometre, Gins.’ He uncapped a bottle of water and handed it to her. ‘Most of it’s a nice, simple climb . . . and the hard bits will be worth it for the stunning views.’

Ginny glared at him and gulped down half of the water. ‘I could look at the views from the hot tub—’

Paul snapped, cutting off her whine. ‘For god’s sake, the hot tub will still be there when we get back.’

Cat took his elbow and steered him around to the back of the car to get their rucksacks out, keeping her voice low and struggling to keep her annoyance in check. She could do without Paul acting up too. ‘Someone else have a bit too much last night, did they? Thought you said you were fine?’

‘I am fine,’ Paul hissed. ‘I’m just sick of her whining. Last night it was all about her, that stupid story about the mix-up at the hairdressers and how she has to wait weeks for another appointment and how it ruined her week because her roots are showing for her weekend away. I mean, come on. Has she got nothing better to worry about?’

Paul grabbed the bags out of the back of the car and dumped them on the ground. Cat was a little surprised at him being so grumpy. They all knew what Ginny was like, and they all knew that she would be fine once they got going. Although, it was true that she did like to make any drama very Ginny-centric. Cat glanced over to find that Ginny was now out of the car and still looking miserable. Tristan was standing with his hands on his hips, staring over at her and Paul. Had he overheard? He turned away, but not before Cat caught him smirking in Paul’s direction.

Ah. So that was it. The constant ribbing last night about how Paul couldn’t hack it in the City and was now a kept man had got under his skin, despite his protestations otherwise.

Cat hoped it wasn’t going to be one of those days. They hadn’t even got their rucksacks on their backs and the bickering had started. She had far bigger issues to deal with than hot tubs or Tristan’s needling of Paul.

‘Right, come on, everyone. This is stupid,’ Cat said. ‘Ginny – come and get your bag. Tristan – can you show us the route, please? Make sure we all know where we’re going . . .’

He pretended to look hurt, before fixing his face into one of his annoying grins. ‘What – you don’t trust me?’

Cat glared at him, then threw her rucksack over one shoulder and marched across to a large board with a map on it. Bienvenue à Solalex, it said. Tour de l’Argentine. There were several photographs of the route, showing sheer silver rock faces interspersed with picturesque Alpine meadows.

Ginny appeared beside her. ‘What does it say?’

Cat shrugged. ‘You know my French is rusty,’ she said. It was nothing of the sort, but she didn’t want Ginny to know that. She pretended to struggle with the words. ‘Welcome to Solalex. The other bit is just the name of the trail. It’s a loop around the Argentine mountain. We start and finish here.’ Cat peered closer at the smaller font in the legend beneath the map. ‘Says it’s moderate difficulty.’

Ginny sighed. ‘I suppose it might be fun. Tristan said there was a nice place to stop for lunch, didn’t he?’

‘A perfect place.’ Cat took her sister’s hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘And I brought some extra walking poles. I didn’t think you’d have any . . .’

Ginny turned to her and laughed. ‘Walking poles? Well of course I don’t have any walking poles.’ She looked down at her feet. ‘I don’t even have proper boots, but Tristan said these would do.’

Cat looked down at Ginny’s designer-brand, perfectly white trainers. Did they actually have a heel? She frowned. ‘I guess they’ll have to. I really wish you’d let me buy you those boots when we bought the shorts and tops . . .’

Ginny picked up her rucksack and took off across the grass, wiggling her hips. ‘Those boots were ugly, Cat. You should think yourself lucky I’m not in flip-flops.’

Cat shook her head at her, in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture, like her sister was some errant schoolgirl instead of a thirty-year-old woman. She was never going to grow up.

Paul scrunched up his face. Cat knew he’d never particularly been a fan of her sister. But if it hadn’t been for Tristan meeting Ginny on a blind date, and then Tristan asking her if she had any friends to introduce to his workmate, then Paul and Cat would never have met and he’d probably be quite happy somewhere else right now, without Ginny pissing him off. She knew he only put up with Ginny because she was her sister. Cat had often thought that if she’d been just a friend, Paul would’ve convinced her to dump Ginny years ago.

Ginny stopped by a bench and sat down, taking her phone out of her pocket.

‘Oi,’ Cat shouted, ‘bring your phone back, Gins. We’re leaving in a minute and I want to lock them in the glove box.’

Ginny stomped back towards the car and held out the phone. ‘I’ve messaged Lauren to tell her we’re going on this stupid hike and if she doesn’t hear from me by this evening, to call the police.’

Tristan overheard. ‘You’ve done what? You know what Loopy Lauren’s like – she probably bloody will and we’ll end up with a rescue squad and a massive fine for wasting police time.’