Force of Nature (Aaron Falk #2)(15)

With the smell of eucalyptus and burned firewood in her nostrils and with Alice by her side, Lauren felt the dust breathe and lift on a thirty-year-old memory. McAllaster Camp.

Endeavour Ladies’ College’s bushland campus still featured heavily in the school’s glossy prospectus. An opportunity – a compulsory opportunity – for Endeavour’s Year Nine ladies to spend a full academic year in the remote setting. The program was designed to develop character, resilience and a healthy respect for Australia’s natural environment. And – subtly spelled out between the carefully written lines – designed to keep teenage girls away from everything teenage girls were drawn to at that age.

At fifteen, Lauren had been homesick from day one and raw from blisters and mosquito bites from day two. She was unfit and well past the age where it could still be called puppy fat. Just one long week in, and she had found herself blindfolded as well. What was the point in a trust challenge when she didn’t trust any of her classmates?

She knew she had been led away from the main camp and into the bushland, that was obvious from the crunch of leaves under her feet, but beyond that she was lost. She could have been on the cusp of a cliff edge or set to plunge into a river. She could hear movement around her. Footsteps. A giggle. She had stretched a hand out, grasping at the blackness in front. Her fingers closed around nothing but thin air. An unsteady step forward almost sent her stumbling as her toe caught the uneven ground. Suddenly, a hand had gripped her arm, firm and steady. She’d felt warm breath on her cheek and heard a voice in her ear.

‘I’ve got you. This way.’ Alice Russell.

It was the first time Lauren could remember Alice speaking to her properly, but she’d recognised her voice immediately. Lauren, then fat and friendless, could still recall that mingling rush of confusion and relief as Alice took her arm. Now, nearly three decades on, Lauren looked across the campfire at the other woman, and wondered if she was remembering that day too.

Lauren took a breath, but was cut short by movement behind her. Daniel appeared at her shoulder, his face bathed in orange.

‘They got the fire started then? Good.’ His pupils looked black in the half-light of the flames and he pushed a bottle of red into Lauren’s hand. ‘Here, enjoy a drink. Alice, I need a quick word, please.’

‘Now?’ Alice didn’t move.

‘Yes. Please.’ Daniel put his palm very lightly on her upper back. After the briefest pause, Alice let him steer her away from the group. Lauren watched as they almost disappeared to the edge of the clearing, absorbed by the shadows. She heard the low, indistinct hum of Daniel’s voice before it was drowned out by the surrounding chatter.

Lauren turned back to the fire and poked the boil-in-the-bag meals. They were ready. She opened them up. Added exactly the same amount of rice to each.

‘Dinner’s ready,’ she said to no-one in particular.

Bree came over, clutching the flag she’d found earlier and trailing two men in her wake.

‘I saw it right there in the tree next to the path,’ she was saying to them. ‘Maybe you missed yours.’

Her cheeks were flushed and she was sipping from a plastic cup in her hand. She picked up a meal bag.

‘Thank you. Lovely.’ She poked inside with her fork and her face fell a little.

‘You don’t like beef?’ Lauren said.

‘Yes, I do. It’s great. It’s not that, I just –’ Bree stopped. ‘It looks delicious, thank you.’

Lauren watched as Bree took a small mouthful. All meat, no rice. Lauren recognised someone avoiding carbs at night when she saw it. She felt the itch to say something but kept her mouth shut. This was none of her business.

‘If your dinner tastes anything like ours did, you’ll need something to wash it down,’ one of the men said, leaning in towards Bree. He’d refilled her cup with wine before she could answer.

Lauren kept half an eye on them as she got her own food and sat on a log by the fire to eat. She opened the bag. The beef and rice stared back at her. She should eat, she thought, then looked around. No-one was watching. No-one here cared either way. She put her fork down.

A shadow fell across Lauren’s lap and she looked up.

‘Can I have one of those?’ Beth was pointing at the food.

‘Of course.’

‘Thanks. I’m starving.’ Beth nodded at the log. ‘Okay if I sit here?’

Lauren moved up and felt the log creak and dip under Beth’s weight. Beth ate fast, watching as her sister held court amid the men. Bree tilted back her long white neck and took a sip from her cup. It was immediately refilled.

‘She doesn’t like to drink much usually,’ Beth said, her mouth not quite empty. ‘It goes to her head when she does.’

Lauren remembered the bottle of red Daniel had thrust on her and held it out, but Beth shook her head.

‘No thanks, I’m right.’

‘You don’t like it either?’

‘I like it too much.’

‘Oh.’ Lauren couldn’t tell if Beth was joking or not. The woman wasn’t smiling.

‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ Beth crumpled her empty boil-in-the-bag and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

Lauren did mind a bit, but shook her head. They were outside; let the woman light up. They watched the flames. The laughter and chatter around grew louder as more bottles were emptied. One of the men prised himself away from Bree to wander over.