The Last Resort(24)

Inside, a selection of mouth-watering treats. Sandwiches cut into triangles, with the crusts cut off – laid out like a pyramid, and with various fillings. A cheese and ham quiche with cherry tomatoes pressed into the top. Slices of smoked salmon arranged like flowers and entwined with dill. She picks up a sandwich and takes a small bite. Cream cheese and cucumber. Her favourite. She finishes the sandwich, then picks up a piece of quiche and pops it into her mouth.

Now this is the life, she thinks, eyeing the ice bucket filled with drinks and trying to decide what to have. Elderflower pressé? Champagne? She leans down to pick up a small plate from a pocket on the inside lid of the hamper and notices a container of strawberries in the corner. She takes one out and is about to place it on her plate – then realises it’s chocolate-dipped and shoves it into her mouth instead. It’s plump and juicy, and a dribble of liquid seeps out of her mouth and down her chin. She grabs another one, then a sandwich, and plops them on her plate while also grabbing a napkin – red-and-white, to match the tablecloth. Then she looks down at her chest to where she is sure she’s dribbled strawberry juice.

And that’s when she sees it.

For a split second, she thinks she’s mistaken. It’s just a broken branch. It has been there all the time, but she hasn’t noticed it. She blinks. It’s still there, and it has moved. It is dark brown with barely visible markings. She wants to believe that it’s merely an adder, and that there are probably thousands of them on this island, slinking around in the undergrowth. She’s frozen to the spot. Plate in one hand, napkin in the other. The snake slithers closer, too close now to her foot, her bare ankle. Too close for her to step away. Her hands start to shake, and the strawberry rolls off the plate and hits the ground, causing a small cloud of dust to puff into the air. The snake flinches, pulls away from her and raises its head. It begins to coil itself upward. Its mouth opens wide – a strangely white mouth contrasting against the dark of its body.

She thinks about the voice earlier on, telling her about the snake and the mouse, and she thinks about the serpents in the Bible – always representing something bad. Evil. Is this a message? Was the earlier voice giving her some sort of warning?

Her greatest fear, of course – as was starkly laid out in the visitor centre for all to see. They’ve orchestrated this, somehow. Her mind tries to take her back to that afternoon in the woods as a child, when the snake had wrapped itself around her . . . but how could they know about that? She’s still struggling to believe that the technology linked to the tracker can dredge up real memories. It’s incredible, if it’s true. But if it’s a game, it’s a cruel one.

She holds her breath, her body frozen stiff as the snake slithers over her foot and begins to wind itself upwards, slowly coiling its way around her bare leg.





Lucy

Lucy steps back, stumbling over a rock and landing on her behind. The thud gives her a jolt, but she doesn’t cry out. She just wants to be as far away as she can from any of this weirdness.

James drops the bones on the ground. He’s flushed from running and lets out a long sigh, then sucks in a deep breath. ‘There was a whole pile of them . . . under a bush. I saw something white sticking out, and I’ – he pauses, takes another deep breath – ‘I thought maybe it was a branch. You know, when you see them bleached white from the salt and the sun? I was thinking it might be something we could use . . .’

His voice trails off.

Amelia clears her throat. ‘I’m guessing they’re animal bones. Probably a sheep or something. They’re stripped clean. Could’ve been there for years.’

Lucy jumps up from the rock. ‘A sheep? What, are you a veterinary expert now too?’ She steps over Scott, who has woken up and is staring at them all in horror, as if he’s forgotten who they are and where he is. She nudges one of the bones with her foot. ‘These look too long to come from an animal. They look like thigh bones—’

‘Forensic anthropologist, are you?’ Amelia says. She’s smiling.

‘Touché,’ Lucy says. She doesn’t bother to explain her reasoning, but she’s watched enough true crime programmes on TV to know what human bones look like. Bit of a coincidence though. James just happening to stumble over them like that.

James crouches down beside Scott. ‘How you doing, mate?’

Scott groans. ‘I think maybe I can stand, if you can all help me? I don’t want to be a burden. We need to get down to the bay, right?’

James and Amelia glance at each other. Lucy doesn’t know what their look means. They seem to have buddied up without her noticing. Great. This means she’s stuck with Scott, does it? Although that might not be a bad thing. She thinks about the angles. Scott’s line of business is one that must be very popular with celebrities. It’s been a while since she’s had a scoop on any big star from the US.

Scott tries to sit up, wincing as his foot flops over from its unnatural position.

‘You know,’ Amelia says, gently lifting his foot and leaning in to inspect it, ‘I think maybe it’s just a bad sprain. Can we take your shoe off so I can have a proper look?’

Scott nods. His face is pained, but Lucy thinks he might be putting it on a bit now. If the pain was that bad, he’d have squealed like a pig when Amelia lifted it. Lucy’s not denying it was a bad fall, and it’s obviously caused him some serious discomfort, but she can’t be bothered with people who milk their situations for sympathy.