The Last Resort(28)

‘Don’t start on that “Italians invented pizza” nonsense with me.’

‘We did. And ice cream. Don’t even go there.’

Tiggy ignores them both, switching back to Lucy’s question. ‘I started dating properly when I was fifteen. I haven’t had many boyfriends. I don’t do one-night stands, or anything . . .’ She pauses, trying to find the right word. She wants to say ‘seedy’ but that sounds judgemental, and she doesn’t quite know what Lucy is getting at – she feels that Lucy wants to use her dating history to prove some sort of point, and Tiggy doesn’t want to be sucked into that negativity. Whenever she spends time around negative people, she feels her energy being drained, like a car battery when the lights and radio have been left on all night. She needs to replenish herself with happiness and sunshine and vitamins. She tips her head back, letting the sun soak into her face. Hoping that the vitamin D is getting through her sunscreen.

‘You don’t do one-night stands or anything . . . what?’ Lucy says, leaning in closer.

‘I’m not going to let you goad me. You’re enjoying picking on me, but it won’t be much fun if I ignore you.’

‘Jeez, don’t ignore her,’ Scott chimes in. ‘Then she’ll start on me.’

Lucy grabs her water bottle from her bag and takes a swig. ‘Ah, come on. I wasn’t picking on you. All I was trying to say was, maybe you’re being a bit naive about relationships. I can guess what Giles has been up to, based on what happened in the visitor centre when he got his tracker – that lie he spun you about the girl in the hotel room . . . and also from what I’ve heard about him before. Did you have a big row about him cheating on you? But then again, it was Giles who said this was all just a game—’

‘Oh, wait,’ Tiggy says. ‘I knew I recognised your name. You were the one who wrote that horrible piece about Giles in eXite magazine last year.’ She slaps herself on the forehead. ‘I get it now. You’re a nasty piece of work.’

Lucy tuts. ‘Look, I’m not proud of every single thing I’ve written, but someone gave me the lead and I needed the cash. We don’t all have the Bank of Mummy and Daddy to get us through the lean times.’

Tiggy crosses her arms. ‘There you go again with your assumptions! And you actually want me to confide in you? Tell you about Giles?’ She feels tears prick at her eyes and tries to blink them away. She doesn’t want to let this woman see that she’s upset. ‘If this is a game, it’s not very much fun. It’s like Big Brother is some kind of psychopath!’

‘Um, Big Brother is—’

‘Ladies, ladies,’ Scott says. ‘How about we take a breath? Tear into me for a minute. I’m stuck here with this bum ankle. I’m not going anywhere. Take your best shot.’

‘Sorry,’ Lucy says. ‘I think the sun is getting to me. Besides, I don’t think there’s anything I could say to you that would offend you, and to be honest, that’s not much fun.’ She picks up a small stone and throws it at him.

Scott shakes his head. ‘You’re warped, lady. There’s something wrong with you.’

‘No shit,’ she mutters, wandering over to the bones that James has left in the clearing. ‘Anyway, what do we think of these?’ She picks up the largest and runs a finger over each end, peers down its length as if she’s trying to read the grain.

‘Anthropologist now, are we?’ Tiggy says.

‘Look at this,’ Lucy says, ignoring her jibe. ‘This end. It looks too . . . I dunno, smooth.’

‘It’s probably been worn away by rain and salt and wind and whatever else,’ Tiggy says. ‘It’s not like it’s been left here recently, is it? Some animal died. It doesn’t look like there have been animals here for a while, so . . .’ She shrugs. ‘Look, it’s just an animal bone. It doesn’t matter.’ She slumps inwards, plonks herself down on a rock. She has no more strength to argue. She’s already feeling bad about what she said to Giles as she stormed off. He might be an absolute pig, but she does still love him. She certainly doesn’t want him dead. She needs to pull herself together and show herself in a better light to have any chance of winning the prize money they promised her. She wonders if the others have been offered the same.

There’s a beep in her ear and she flinches, looks around to see if anyone else heard it. Lucy is still inspecting the ends of the bone. Scott has his eyes closed again. The voice in her ear says, ‘Thank you. Your preferences have been updated.’

She slaps the tracker angrily. ‘What preferences? What are you talking about?’

Lucy looks up, raises her eyebrows.

Tiggy shakes her head and turns away. She’s trying to decide how much she wants to say, with the others listening. Lucy is desperate for something juicy, and Scott is only feigning sleep – but then the sound of other voices, getting closer, stops her from asking the tracker anything else at all.

The others are back.

‘Ah, the wanderers return,’ Lucy says. She lifts a hand to her forehead, squinting into the sun. ‘Brenda . . . you’re looking a bit peaky. Dodgy prawn sandwich at the country club?’

‘Something like that,’ Brenda says.

Tiggy takes a good look at her. She does look pale, and something else. Like all her previous bluster has blown away. She looks smaller, somehow. More vulnerable. ‘What happened? Was that you we heard screaming?’