‘Honestly, Carys, I think you’re overreacting,’ says Zoe, resting her hand on my shoulder for support, her good leg taking the weight to compensate for her other one, which is resting on the ground. ‘Those tyre marks could have been made at any time. They could be dried-up ones that now look fresh because of the rain.’
‘I never noticed them before,’ I say.
‘Are you trying to tell me that you have been around the whole area, making notes of everything you’ve seen?’ Zoe gives me a dismissive look.
‘Well, no …’ I begin.
‘My point exactly.’
I’m surprised by Zoe’s sharp tone but put it down to frayed nerves.
‘To be fair, Zoe has a point,’ says Andrea. We are all standing on the track inspecting the tyre marks. ‘Even if they are fresh, this isn’t a private road, there’s nothing to stop anyone cycling up here.’
‘It’s not a very cycle-friendly place though,’ I point out, though it feels foolish to insist.
‘True, but that doesn’t mean impossible,’ says Zoe. ‘Let’s go indoors, I’m freezing.’ She gives a shiver as if to demonstrate her low body temperature and we all trundle into the croft, Zoe at more of a hobble but covering the ground with surprising efficiency.
Zoe and I sit at the dining table while Andrea warms up some soup from the pantry. ‘Good old Joanne, she got plenty of food in. At least we won’t starve,’ says Zoe as Andrea comes into the dining room with three bowls of soup. One in each hand and a third impressively balancing on her wrist. She puts the bowls down in front of us.
I don’t like the way Zoe is talking so flippantly about Joanne. It seems disrespectful. Less than an hour ago she was crying about her. I guess everyone has different ways of dealing with traumatic events and perhaps this is Zoe’s coping mechanism. I do remember going into some sort of autopilot mode for several days after Darren’s death. I had too many things to deal with, and Alfie to worry about, so I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of grieving. Maybe that’s what I’m doing now. As shocking and upsetting as Joanne’s death is, I must remain detached from the raw emotion which is patiently waiting to be set free. The denial stage, someone once defined it. I think of it more in terms of self-preservation. I divert my thoughts elsewhere.
‘Tris and the kids are going to be devastated,’ I say. ‘How will they manage without her?’
‘Don’t worry about them now,’ says Zoe, ‘it won’t help. You’re right, they will be devastated, but you know what?’
I look expectantly at her. ‘What?’
‘They will be OK. They’ll manage. That’s what people do. That’s what you’ve done, right?’ Zoe tucks into her soup. ‘This is delicious.’
I say nothing as I consider Zoe’s sudden upbeat and pragmatic view on this. I know she’s always been a complete optimist but she is taking it to the nth degree now. How can she find her soup delicious and even be in a frame of mind to comment on such a trivial thing? To me, it tastes bitter. Much like this weekend. As for her they’ll manage attitude, it sounds so insensitive. I can feel myself getting angry. Zoe has no right to make such assumptions about Tris and the kids. Or me, come to think of it.
I put down my spoon rather more heavily than I intend. ‘Honestly, Zoe, sometimes I wonder about you,’ I hear myself saying. ‘If you think those kids are simply going to dust themselves down after their mother’s death and summon up a “we’ll get over it” attitude, then you must be living in a complete fantasy world.’
‘Easy, tiger,’ warns Andrea softly, placing a hand on my arm. I shrug it off.
‘I think it’s time for some straight talking,’ I say, with no intention whatsoever of backing down. ‘Unless it’s escaped your air-head, I’m still dealing with the aftermath of my son’s father dying. Alfie has not just had a cry and then got on with life. He has lots of issues to deal with.’
‘But that’s different,’ says Zoe.
‘How?’
‘Because Darren killed himself and Alfie saw him … hanging. I don’t mean to upset you, Carys, but that’s the truth of it. Joanne’s kids haven’t seen their mother dead. She didn’t do this to punish them.’
I jump to my feet, sending the chair tipping backwards. ‘Darren did not do what he did to punish Alfie. I’ll tell you for nothing, he did it because he was ill. He was sick. Mentally ill. If there was anyone he wanted to punish, then it was me.’ I can hardly get my words out. I’m gulping for air as if I’ve competed in an Olympic hundred-metre sprint. ‘We don’t know for sure what happened to Joanne. What if it turns out she was murdered? How are her children going to cope then? And what about Tris? He’ll have to live with the fact that he couldn’t protect his wife. And don’t give me that look – it’s true. Archaic as it might sound, we all feel protective towards our families and Tris is no different. It’s not going to be easy for them, having to live with the fact that they may never know exactly how Joanne died.’
I turn on my heel and storm out of the dining room and up to my bedroom where I fling myself on the bed. While my rage bubbles inside, I lie staring up at the ceiling. Of all the things I had Zoe tagged as, a bloody idiot wasn’t one of them.
It takes a few minutes, but finally I bring my anger under control by calming my breathing and putting into practice my relaxation strategies. Gradually, I feel my emotions levelling out.
I come to the decision that I am not prepared to sit around waiting for the police to turn up. I can’t think why we aren’t their top priority; there’s been a death here, for goodness’ sake.
After thirty minutes’ meditating and trying to put myself into a better frame of mind, I return downstairs. I’ve decided to put Zoe’s lack of empathy and tact down to the difficult situation we are in.
‘Oh, Carys, I’m sorry,’ says Zoe as I walk into the living room. She gets up from where she is sitting and holds out her arms to me. ‘I didn’t mean to sound as cold and heartless as I did. I was only trying to keep up a positive front.’
‘It’s OK,’ I say, returning the gesture and hugging Zoe. ‘I’m sorry too for overreacting. I know you better than that. I didn’t mean to upset you either.’ As I speak, I’m aware of a certain lack of conviction in my sentiments, but it feels the right thing to say at the right time. We need to stick together and not let our emotions divide us. Not here, anyway.
‘That’s what I like to see,’ says Andrea. ‘So let’s all relax and wait for the police to come. We don’t want to fall out with each other.’
‘I was thinking maybe we could walk to the nearest village and get help from there. I can’t cope with sitting around doing nothing.’
Andrea sits upright. ‘Carys, how does the ranger know where to send the police?’
‘What?’ I’m not following her train of thought.
‘We don’t know where we are, right?’ Both Zoe and I make agreeing sort of noises. ‘So, how does the park ranger know where we are and where to send the police?’
‘Maybe he knows this croft?’ I say hesitantly.
‘But there must be lots of crofts in the area. How does he know which one we’re staying in?’ She turns to me. ‘Think very carefully. In your conversation with the ranger, did he ask you where you were? Did you tell him?’
It dawns on me that this is the thing that was niggling me about the conversation all this time. ‘I can’t remember. But then again, I don’t remember him asking me any specifics. Can he track the radio signal?’
‘I don’t know. Do radio signals work the same as mobile phone signals?’
I look at Zoe, who hasn’t said anything so far. She looks worried. Her emotions are all over the place, another symptom of the high anxiety levels we are all feeling.
‘Let’s assume the ranger hasn’t, for whatever reason, been able to tell the police exactly where we are,’ says Andrea. ‘What are we going to do? Shall we try to contact him again?’
‘To be honest, I’ve not got much faith in him,’ I confess. ‘He should at least have taken more details. Some of these rangers are volunteers. I’d sooner be speaking to the police.’
‘Let’s try to call him one more time,’ says Zoe, sliding the locket on her necklace back and forth. I interpret this as another anxiety indicator. She takes the walkie-talkie from her pocket and switches it on. After several unsuccessful attempts at mustering a response from the park ranger, she gives up. ‘Maybe he’s out of range.’
‘I think I should try to make it to the nearest house or village, whichever I come to first.’
‘But we’re cut off. There’s been a landslide,’ says Zoe. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea at all.’
‘I’m sure they can get us out of here one way or another. You’re not telling me there’s no mountain rescue around here.’
‘I’m with Zoe,’ says Andrea. ‘You don’t even know where you’re going.’
‘I’ve got a rough idea. Joanne pointed a few landmarks out to me when we were up on Arrow Point. If I follow the track down into the valley, I’m bound to pick up a bigger road and sooner or later someone is going to be driving along. I can flag them down and raise the alarm that way.’
‘But it’s midday. You’ll be losing light eventually. You might not even make it to a house before it gets dark,’ says Zoe. ‘What about the weather? It might rain again or the mist might come in and you could easily get lost or fall down a ravine or something.’
‘I’ll be OK. I’ve walked in all sorts of weather before, we do it all the time with the Duke of Edinburgh Award kids,’ I say. ‘I was thinking about cutting across country but, given the potential for bad weather, I’ll stick to the road. Then there’s the kayaks. Joanne said the river eventually finds its way to a town. I can’t remember what she said it was called. Gormsly, Gormouth? Something like that.’
‘Sticking to the road sounds like the safest bet to me,’ says Andrea. ‘There might be waterfalls or rapids along the river. If you capsize, you could be in serious trouble.’
After a few more minutes debating the pros and cons, we finally agree that taking the road is the safest option.
‘I still don’t like you going on your own,’ says Zoe. ‘One of us should go with you.’ She looks at Andrea.
‘When you say one of us, you mean me. You’re not exactly up to it with your ankle the way it is,’ says Andrea.
‘Well, yes. I suppose that is what I mean,’ says Zoe. ‘One of us should stay here anyway, in case the police turn up.’
‘You’re happy staying on your own?’ I ask, surprised at Zoe’s apparent bravery.
‘I’ll lock myself in. I won’t pretend I’m happy at the thought, but it’s the best option.’
I look at Andrea for a response. She shrugs. ‘I guess there isn’t a perfect solution and I’m kind of inclined to agree with you, Carys. Sitting here doing nothing isn’t getting us anywhere. If the police do come and we’re on the road, then we’ll see them.’
‘And when we see a house or a village, we’ll be able to raise the alarm. They’ll have to make us top priority then, especially now we’ve also got someone with an injury. You’d think they’d be able to send some sort of mountain rescue team up with a police officer anyway,’ I say.
‘I know, does seem odd,’ agrees Andrea. ‘But since that’s clearly not happening, we’ll have to deal with it the best we can.’
‘I must admit to feeling happier now we’re doing something proactive,’ I say. ‘I need to keep busy. Keep my mind busy.’
‘Let’s get ourselves organised. We can take those emergency hiking packs with us, the ones Joanne gave us yesterday.’
‘Good idea. There’s a first-aid kit, some emergency rations, a flare and a foil blanket,’ I say. ‘We’ll need to make sure we’ve plenty of water too.’
‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right?’ asks Andrea, turning to Zoe.
‘I’ll be fine. Just make sure someone comes back for me!’ She gives a half-hearted laugh. ‘I’ll keep the walkie-talkie close by in case the ranger makes contact.’
‘Good idea,’ says Andrea.
I must admit that Zoe seems remarkably at ease with being left on her own, which surprises me. Out of all of us, I would have pegged Zoe as the least, for want of a better word, brave. She’s always been the one we’ve mothered when we’ve been on our outdoor adventures in the past. I’m beginning to see her in a new light. I ponder this some more as I pack my rucksack and decide the inner strength she’s displaying now is probably born out of a shit marriage and having to make a go of it on her own. Pretty much the way I’ve had to.
Andrea comes up to the bedroom and closes the door behind her.
‘You OK?’ she asks.
‘I think so.’
‘You don’t sound too sure.’
‘I’ll admit I’m rather apprehensive.’ I clip the rucksack closed.
‘Not scared?’
‘A little, if I’m honest. Part of me thinks this is a good idea, part of me thinks we should stay put.’
‘What would your advice be to your Duke of Edinburgh kids?’ Andrea walks over to the window and looks out at the trees behind us.
‘To stay put. Don’t go off. Wait for help to arrive.’
‘So, remind me again, why are we leaving?’
I hold my hands up. ‘I know, it goes against everything I’ve been taught. Everything I teach others. Everything my instincts are telling me,’ I confess. ‘But I feel we should be doing something more proactive.’ I pause, wondering whether to confess my next thought.
‘What’s up?’ says Andrea, picking up on my hesitation.
‘That park ranger I spoke to. I’m beginning to doubt he was a park ranger at all.’
‘What?’
‘He didn’t ask me my name, he didn’t give his name, he didn’t ask our location. It’s been bugging me and the only thing I can think of is, he wasn’t actually a park ranger, just some random bloke who happened to catch our call.’
‘Why would someone do that?’
‘I’ve no idea. Maybe he thought it would be funny. Maybe he’s some weirdo. Maybe …’
‘Wait – please don’t say that maybe he’s the one who killed Joanne.’
We look at each other in silence.
‘It’s a lot of maybes,’ I say, at last.
‘Certainly is. And in light of all those maybes, the last one in particular, do you still think it’s a good idea to leave Zoe alone?’