The taxi bounced along the pitted track, sending small stones flying. The driver knocked the car into a lower gear and the engine revved. Katie gripped the door handle, feeling each bump vibrate through her body.
There was a loud clunk as a rock hit the chassis. The driver cursed. ‘This is as far as I go.’
She paid him and stepped out. The night was warm, the air tasting faintly of earth.
‘I wait for you?’
‘No. Thank you.’
The driver shrugged and then reversed along the track, the beam of his headlights flashing up and down over the ruts like warning signals.
She took the map from her pocket and shone the torch on it to get her bearings. It wasn’t a long climb, but it would be made harder by the darkness. The cliff loomed above her and her heart thumped against her chest, but she would not give in to fear. At least, she reassured herself as she struck out, it was a clear night and the moon was bright.
She followed the track until it narrowed into a footpath that wove up the base of the cliff. The ground was dry but uneven, and loose stones made her stumble. Her leather sandals pinched the sides of her feet, and she wished the soles had more grip. The foliage was gradually thickening, closing out much of the moonlight. She hoped the torch battery would last.
As she ascended the air grew cooler. Somewhere to the west of her she could hear waves breaking, and she caught the scent of salt blowing in on the breeze. With a few more paces the path delivered her to a lookout point over the ocean. She paused there to catch her breath, laying a hand on the wooden railings. The moon hung over the dark water, laying a stark silver trail.
You always loved the ocean. You told me once that it occupies 70 per cent of the planet’s surface. You said you loved the way it constantly changes and shifts, one day mirror calm, the next a churning mess of swell. Perhaps that’s what scared me that day at Porthcray: I realized it couldn’t be contained. The sea is unpredictable, always moving, always changing – just like you.
Katie realized that she must be standing exactly where the witnesses had paused on the night of Mia’s death. She imagined the shells of Mia’s necklace jangling together as she ran up the cliff path. Why were you running? Were you scared that if you stopped, you’d change your mind? Glancing upwards, she could see part of the cliff top. This is what the witnesses must have seen. You, standing on the edge, about to make a decision that would change everything.
Katie’s limbs felt heavy with exhaustion but she forced herself to carry on, knowing she wasn’t there yet. The upper section of the cliff path was alive with the hum of insects. Bushes choked the way and she used her arms to push aside brittle branches. Moisture breathed from the tangled undergrowth, filling the air with an earth-rich scent.
She cried out as something sharp cut into her shin. Lowering the torch beam, she saw blood. Specks of dirt peppered the bright red cut that ran an inch below her knee. She’d caught it against the jagged edge of an unseen rock. Straightening, she swung the torch beam around her to check for other obstacles, but saw only darkness. She ran the beam westwards again from the path, seeing scrub, then rock, and then nothing – just a sheer drop. The climb was taking her only feet away from the cliff’s edge. A few more steps and she would have fallen.
She took a slow, deep breath, then concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other. Twice she slipped, and twice she recovered herself by digging her nails deep into the earth until she found purchase. Whenever her nerve began to waver, she reminded herself that Mia had climbed this path barefoot and torchless.
She was breathing hard and the terrain was steepening. She wrapped a hand around a branch to help pull herself up. Suddenly the wind became fierce and the ground levelled. She had reached the top.
She had imagined this place so many times that she felt as if the cliff had somehow been expecting her. Granite boulders punctuated a small grassy plateau, which fell away to the sea and rocks. Above, the stars were brilliant golden pinpricks blinking in the sky.
She experienced the odd sensation of not being alone. She spun round, air filling her dress, drawing a circle of light with the torch beam. ‘Mia?’
But only the wind, curling over the cliff face, answered her. She felt foolish. The cut on her shin throbbed, and a deep weariness spread through her body. It felt as if she’d been climbing this cliff for five lonely months, and now Mia’s past and Katie’s present seemed to converge, twisting round one another.
The truth of what happened to Mia was one she’d stitched together with the threads of information she’d chosen to use. The journal could never tell the full story. There were gaps, things Mia didn’t want to share, perhaps, or emotions she’d rather not admit to. Katie had patched those holes using strands of her imagination. But she realized that it wasn’t just Mia’s story she had created, it was her own, too.
They had both travelled the same route, trailing the coastlines of three continents in the search for answers about each other – and themselves. The separate threads that made up their lives – no matter how frayed, or faded, or worn – would always be woven together. That’s how it was with sisters. And that’s why her feet began to carry her closer to the cliff’s edge now.
She inched forward until she was standing only a foot from the drop. The breeze stirred her hair and she felt the roar of the waves in her chest.
Here I am, Mia, just like you. Five months too late. How did you feel standing here? Were you so lonely that it felt like a part of you had been carved hollow? Because that’s how I feel without you. I’d always thought that if you were in danger, I would know. I believed that some thread in our DNA would scream out so loudly, that I would hear it in my body. But I didn’t. The night you were here, I was at the office. I interviewed candidates, responded to emails and got up to date with my admin. I worked as you jumped.
She let the torch slip through her fingers, watching the light turning through the night. It plummeted downwards for several long seconds. And then went out.
She had reached the end of Mia’s journey.
And what about hers?
She felt her feet pressing down on the edge of the cliff and she closed her eyes.
*
‘Katie?’
The sound of her name cut across the darkness. Something within her tightened as the wind blew cool against her face.
‘Katie?’
She couldn’t place the voice; it was male and her name sounded deep and fluid on his lips. Very slowly she turned, stepping back.
A man was standing in front of a granite boulder 15 feet from her. In the moonlight the solid shape of his frame was dark against the rock. She regretted the loss of the torch, wanting to trail light across this stranger’s face and find something readable in his expression.
‘You’re Katie, aren’t you?’
He spoke with an accent. Australian, she realized. ‘Noah?’
‘Yes.’
She blinked. Shook her head.
He pushed away from the rock. Stones crunched beneath his feet as he took several paces forward. When they were standing side by side she could see that shadows ringed his eyes and there was a hollowness to his cheeks. His gaze settled on her. ‘I thought you would come here eventually.’
‘Why?’
‘She was your sister.’
Above them the sky glistened with stars, the only witnesses to their conversation. She studied him, trying to match him to Mia’s description. In her journal she’d described him as beautiful – an unusual adjective for a man – but she understood it now, because there was a lonely beauty in his face. Moonlight bleached his features of warmth and she reminded herself, You do not know this man.
‘Did you follow me?’ she asked.
‘No.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I come here, sometimes, to think.’
She recalled entries about the long hours Noah spent on the cliff, watching waves roll in. ‘I’ve been reading about you. Mia kept a travel journal.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘You were the reason she came to Bali,’ she said coolly, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone.
His head lowered a fraction. ‘Yes.’
‘She loved you. But you hurt her.’
He shifted and she thought of how close they both stood to the edge. The wind coiled up from the cliff, pinning the bottom of her dress against her thighs.
Katie said, ‘Mia must have stood here.’ She stared straight ahead and felt the emptiness stretching in front of her. She remembered skydiving, the terrifying feeling of just leaning forward and there being nothing but air to fall through. ‘She must have been so scared.’
She thought about their last conversation. Sometimes it felt as though each word weighed so heavily on her that they had become the paving stones that built Mia’s path here. ‘I hate knowing she was alone.’
His voice was low: ‘She wasn’t.’
Every inch of her skin cooled.
‘I was here.’
Deep in her chest, her heart began to pound. ‘What?’
His gaze locked on the black horizon. ‘There are some things about Mia’s death I need to tell you.’ He took a step towards her and she felt a surge of adrenalin fire through her body. ‘It’s important that you know how sorry I am.’
‘For what?’ she asked, feeling the ground beginning to tilt.