The Last Resort(21)

‘Never mind that now.’ Amelia drops from a crouch to her knees. ‘James? Could you try and get a straight piece of wood for me? And maybe something flat . . .’ She looks around at the landscape. Frowns. ‘Whatever you can find.’

‘Roger that.’ James turns away and starts to hike back up the hill, stopping now and again to pull at various plants, looking for something suitable to take back.

Scott is breathing heavily now, but he’s stopped whimpering. Lucy hands him a bottle of water and he gulps it down. Then he lies back into the bank and closes his eyes.

Amelia is still trying to work out what to do with his foot. In the jungle, she’d once used banana leaves and twine to strap up one of her fellow workers’ ankles. But this place has nothing so obvious at hand. She tries to think back to the bushcraft course she took in Australia. There has to be a way to fix this, if she could only remember how. It’s funny what the mind can lock away from you when you need it most.

‘So,’ Lucy says to her, ‘what’s your story? We didn’t get to hear it back at base. Is Tiggy right to wonder why you’re really here?’

Amelia’s head snaps up. ‘I’m trying to fix Scott’s foot, and you’re questioning why I’m here?’

‘Jeez, OK. Chill out. I was just making conversation.’

‘In a bit of a confrontational way, don’t you think?’

Lucy blinks. ‘Not really. Don’t you think you’re overreacting? I only asked . . .’

Amelia wipes a hand across her brow. Is it her imagination or is it hotter now? They’re quite exposed to the elements, and the sun has definitely changed position. She sighs. ‘Look . . . I’m sorry, OK? I just get a bit flustered when people talk to me when I’m trying to concentrate. Let’s sort out Scott, then you can interrogate me all you like. Deal?’ She gives Lucy a smile.

‘Deal.’ Lucy raises a hand and gives Amelia the peace sign.

They both turn back to Scott, who seems to be fast asleep.

They look at each other. That water. There’s definitely something in that water.

Lucy lays a hand on his shoulder. ‘Scott—’

James comes bounding down the hill, panting. He has something in each hand, but Amelia can’t see what it is yet. Something whitish and straight. She stands up, ready to greet him.

‘Brilliant, you found something . . .’ Her voice trails off when she sees what he’s carrying. Sees the expression on his face. He holds his hands out towards her, and she can see they’re shaking.

‘Woah,’ Lucy says. ‘Are those . . . ?’

‘Yep,’ says Amelia. ‘Unless I’m mistaken, those look very much like bones.’





Tiggy

‘Come on, Tigs. No one’s going to see us.’

He pokes her in the ribs and slides a hand up her T-shirt. She bats his hand away and pouts.

‘They could come back any minute. We don’t even know them yet. I’d rather not be caught in flagrante by a bunch of randoms, thank you very much.’ She flips over onto her side and pulls the blanket up to her neck.

She’s grinning, but he can’t see her face.

‘Tiggy . . . Mrs Tiggywinkle . . . you know I’m not going to fall for that crap. You’re not telling me you knew all those people on the train that time. Or those people walking back from the club via the park bench you were joyfully grinding me into.’

She rolls over onto her back and lets the blanket slide off. Her T-shirt is halfway up her stomach and the warmth of the sun feels good against her bare skin.

‘That was different. They were total strangers.’ She reaches down and pulls off a sock, throws it at him. ‘Just go back onto the path and make sure they’ve gone, OK? I don’t want that Scott seeing me half dressed. He gives me the creeps.’

Giles gives her a look of despair but says nothing. Just disappears up the path. If there’s one thing she knows how to do, it’s getting him to do what she wants. She runs a hand along her bare stomach, pushing her shorts down. He does what she asks, and he does it well. She groans, remembering the last time they were at a beach resort together. Their own cabana on a private beach, sheer white curtains billowing in the breeze. She’d lain back into the sumptuous pillows, looking down at Giles’s head, and the perfect azure water lapping into the shore behind him. He’d looked up at her and grinned and she’d disappeared to another place, somewhere far, far away. Somewhere floating on a cloud, blissful and beautiful and rapturous. She was almost there now. He’d better hurry up.

‘Giles, baby . . . where are you?’ Her voice is hoarse, almost breathless.

He comes bounding back down the sandy path towards her, his face flushed. He sees her, and he knows. Oh yes, he knows.

He pulls his T-shirt over his head and she sees the sleek sheen of sweat defining his perfect biceps as he leans down, putting his hands on either side of her head and moving in for a long, slow kiss.

He pulls back, trails his hand gently over her bare skin. She shudders. So close.

‘I see you started without me . . .’ He pulls down his shorts and lies on top of her.

The weight of him alone is almost enough.

‘Oh, Giles . . .’

His lifts one hand off the lounger, ready to guide himself in. His breath is fast and hard, and she’s ready for him. So ready.