The Last Resort(16)

Outside, the sun is fierce. Seven small backpacks are lined up on the path, each with a name attached. The group make their way towards the bags, each picking up their own and flipping open the top to see what’s inside. James and Amelia are close together, and he whispers to her again.

Brenda picks up her bag and sidles closer to the pair. She wants to know what he’s said to her, and whether this is yet another little nugget dropped on them to try and unsettle them – or if she really is here by mistake. And if she is – how is that going to affect the rest of them?

A screech of static, then a tannoy announcement stops her from having any more time to think about it.

‘Welcome to The Island, everyone. Please take your kitbag and follow the instructions according to your devices. There’s a change of clothes in there for anyone who might need it. Have a wonderful day, and we’ll see you soon for the end-of-day party. It is now T minus 18.’ It screeches again, and then stops.

Brenda looks around at the others. Lucy and James are already picking up their bags. James hands Amelia hers. Tiggy and Giles are cuddled up, leaning against the wall of the visitor centre; his head is dipped, so Brenda can’t see if he’s whispering to his girlfriend or if they’re kissing. Scott is standing on the rough path that leads to the beach, hands on hips, looking out at the sea. No one seems bothered about Tiggy’s outburst. No one seems bothered about whether Amelia is meant to be here or not.

No one seems bothered that they might be getting streamed on some TV show, all around the world.

Money, she thinks. It’s the only explanation. This is why they’re bound by the NDA, even among themselves. Everyone here has been offered a lot of money.

But what for?

‘Right then,’ she mutters to herself. It’s only a day . . . and who knows what it might bring? She squints into the harsh brightness of the sun.

‘Best get on with it.’





Tiggy

T - 18

Once everyone has collected their bag and sorted themselves with sunscreen, hats and sunglasses, they head off together as a group. Tiggy had assumed that they would each be following the instructions from their own trackers, but inside their bags they’d all had one piece of paper, telling them to follow the arrows for clues. Paper! How retro.

The first arrow – painted onto a flag like you usually see on the holes at a golf course – is to the side of the visitor centre, pointing up a sandy track. The track is overgrown in places, and the plants and brush growing either side are not like anything she has seen before. She’s not much of a hiker, and she’s never been anywhere like this. Not that she can recall anyway. The landscape is a mix of sand dunes and luscious green foliage, and as the path gently inclines, the vastness of the sea comes into focus. A deep blue with sparkling diamonds of sunlight bouncing off the waves.

‘I think we’re somewhere in the Med,’ she announces. ‘Look at the colour of the sea.’ Giles murmurs something she can’t hear. The others look out towards the sea.

Scott cups his hands around his face as if it will help him see further. ‘It’s kinda weird not knowing where we are,’ he says, ‘but I don’t mind it. You’re probably right about the Med though. Aren’t there a bunch of small islands off the Spanish coast?’

James veers closer to the edge, peering over. ‘We’re pretty much on a rock. Has anyone here been to the Channel Islands? I’m thinking it might be one of those . . . one of the smaller ones that no one goes to.’

‘It’s pretty, wherever it is,’ Lucy says. ‘Have you seen these?’ She bends down and lifts the rose-shaped head of a bright green plant poking out from a gap in between some rocks. ‘It’s a succulent, I think. I don’t know what the species is. I have one like this in a little pot on my desk. I’ve never seen them growing wild.’

‘Kind of tropical-looking, isn’t it?’ Brenda says, leaning over and inspecting the plant. She stands up and pushes her sunglasses up her nose. ‘We can’t be anywhere tropical though, can we?’ She turns to address Amelia. ‘Five hundred miles, you said, didn’t you? We can’t even be in the Med, can we?’

Amelia shakes her head. ‘No. I don’t think so.’

‘So when does it start being customised to what we actually want?’ Tiggy asks. ‘Because if it’s meant to be tapping into my brain to pull out my ideas of luxury, then something has gone seriously wrong there.’ She marches past Amelia and James and stops when the path levels out, widening into a clearing. It looks as if the shrubs and brush have been removed on purpose, rather than normal erosion from people walking by. But how many people do walk by, she wonders. She turns round slowly, taking it in. She’s about to say more when the tracker vibrates above her ear. ‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Something’s happening, I think.’

‘What?’ Giles bounds up the hill towards her like an excited puppy. ‘Has Big Brother spoken?’

‘Ha,’ Tiggy says. ‘No. But my tracker vibrated.’

The others join them at the clearing.

‘Mine hasn’t done anything yet,’ Brenda says, disappointed. ‘Did you do anything to it?’

Tiggy shakes her head. ‘Nope. But I did say I thought it wasn’t working. Perhaps we have to speak what we want out loud, rather than just think it. Maybe it’s just not that sophisticated yet?’