The Hike(9)

Cat adjusted her rucksack on her back; it felt heavier than before. The burden of the hike adding weight all of a sudden. ‘Rock falls? Like avalanches? I thought they only happened in the winter?’

Red Jacket looked her up and down, his eyes lingering too long on her tight t-shirt. ‘Not anymore. Don’t you listen to Greta? Climate change is genuinely causing problems. The permafrost is melting, meaning that rocks are dislodged. We’ve had a few bad slides lately, down as far as the road.’ He gestured down towards the road they’d driven in on. ‘The main road was blocked off for a day just last week, while it was cleared.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s lucky no one’s been killed yet.’

‘There’s a lot of work going on,’ Blue T-Shirt continued. ‘Putting netting up, that sort of thing. But that’s for the roads. Up here, it’s more of a gamble.’

‘Maybe we should choose a different path,’ Ginny said, looking at Tristan. ‘I’m honestly not sure I’m up for this. You said it was a casual walk – this sounds like a bloody rock-climbing expedition!’ The fear was evident in her voice. This wasn’t just her usual whine about wanting to spend the day in the hot tub. Well, tough, Cat thought. It was about time Ginny moved out of her comfort zone. She’d had life far too easy for far too long.

Tristan pulled the map out of the plastic covering and unfolded it. The hikers gathered around him, closer. Blue T-Shirt ran a finger across the map. ‘This is the part that’s down today. Someone from the Refuge will probably come and try to clear it later, but you can avoid it by going here . . .’ He pointed at another part of the map and Tristan nodded.

‘Fine,’ Tristan said. ‘So just a bit of a detour? The rest is OK?’

The two hikers looked at each other. Red Jacket spoke. ‘Technically, yes. But as we said, it all just feels a bit looser today. You know . . .’ He looked at Cat again, and she really didn’t like the lecherous expression on his face. ‘Maybe I can go with you? As a guide? I was only heading back home to go out with some friends, but that can wait . . .’

‘I don’t think so,’ Cat said, fixing him with her gaze. ‘We’d prefer to go it alone.’

He ran his tongue over his lips. ‘Sure. It was just a thought.’

Blue T-Shirt looked confused for a moment, sensing the change in the atmosphere. He slapped his companion on the back. ‘We do need to get back, actually. But look, the sun is heating the rocks now. We had a really early start. It was all still slippery with dew. You’ll be fine if you keep to the trail, and avoid that one part I mentioned.’ He paused. ‘Just be careful, OK?’

‘Of course,’ said Tristan. ‘Careful is my middle name.’





Five

SATURDAY MIDDAY

Careful was not his middle name. His full name was Tristan Frederick Lytham, and he was certainly not known for being careful. If he was careful, then Ginny wouldn’t have found that receipt in his jacket pocket for a night at the Berystede Hotel near Ascot, on a date when he’d claimed he’d been two hundred miles away in Manchester at a work conference. If he’d wanted to invent an accurate middle name starting with C then ‘cliché’ would be one of them, and another option would rhyme with ‘hunt’. Not that Ginny would ever say such a word. Not out loud.

When Cat had suggested this weekend away, Ginny’s first thought had been to make up an excuse. Any excuse. Because the last thing she wanted was her perfect sister picking up on there being something not quite right between her and Tristan. Ginny was certain that Cat had never liked her husband. So she had been more than a little surprised when he said he’d been helping her sister plan this hike of hers.

Although, thinking about it more, it wasn’t the first time Cat had misled her over a relationship. There had been that guy they’d both fancied when their parents had taken them to Spain that time. Cat was fifteen and Ginny thirteen. The boy had liked them both, and Cat had convinced Ginny that he wasn’t good enough for either of them, dragging Ginny away from the beach. And then, later, Ginny had gone back to the apartment early and found Cat and the boy in the alleyway outside.

They’d sprung apart as if they’d been electrocuted, and Cat had come up with some bullshit story. Ginny had shrugged it off. It could never have been more than a holiday romance anyway, and she was sure the boy had liked her more. I mean, of course he did – Ginny was much prettier than Cat. She spent far more time making herself look good so that boys would like her, while all Cat did was wash her face with soap and smear on a bit of lip balm.

There’s no way the boy could have liked Cat more . . . clearly Cat had done something to persuade him to be with her instead. But that couldn’t be the same here, could it? Tristan couldn’t possibly be interested in Cat. Was it more likely that Cat had realised that she needed to get on with Tristan for Ginny’s sake?

It was typical of Cat to want a weekend like this. She couldn’t help but do something rigidly planned out. It came from her job, Ginny supposed. Cat was such a planner, when everyone else would have been happy enough spending a weekend in Brighton, drinking beers from plastic pint glasses on the pebbled beach. It was no surprise to anyone that Cat had become an event planner. She was always planning things as a kid. Mapping out her life. Trying to map out Ginny’s too. A lot of the dubious choices Ginny ended up making were purely to prove her sister wrong. Cutting off her nose to spite her face, their grandmother would have said. Even their parents got fed up with Cat’s constant planning. God rest their souls. If only they could see her now.