‘How much further is it to the top?’ asked Emilie.
‘We’re about halfway.’
Matt’s enthusiasm for getting stuck into an invigorating hike after all the hours he’d spent cooped up in a camper van was written boldly across his face in block capital letters. Emilie wished she could turn the clock back to the pre-realisation relationship she had enjoyed with Matt. But now that she doubted the very reasons for him being in her company she felt sick. Fortunately, an an insistent buzzing interrupted her inner monologue of suspicion.
‘Alice! Hi! Am I glad to hear your voice!’
‘Oh my God, the best thing ever has happened, Em! I can’t keep it in any longer. Guess what? I’ve been asked to do a Fenella Grainger shoot! I’m the happiest girl in London!’ she enthused, her joy vibrating through the airwaves and, strangely, making Emilie feel even worse.
She was over the moon for Alice – Fenella Grainger was one of her friend’s favourite chefs and an absolute Angel in an Apron – but her announcement had only served to underline her distance from home and the support of her friends. All she wanted to do in that very moment was to race around to Alice’s flat to give her a congratulatory hug. Instead here she was, halfway up a mountain, bruised skies lurking overhead, dressed like her aunt Agnes, with the prospect of getting soaked to the skin with someone who wasn’t what she’d thought he was. What had she done to anger the gods of fortune and providence this time?
‘And, Em, you might want to sit down for this next bit, but…I want you to be my photographer,’ declared Alice giving a squeak of pleasure, her charm bracelet jangling in the background. ‘It can be your first freelance shoot!’
‘Oh, Alice, you are really kind. I don’t deserve you. Congratulations! I’m really, really happy for you. I can’t wait until this nightmare trip is over and we can get together to celebrate properly.’
‘Nightmare? I thought you were loving every minute of it with Bear Grylls Mark Two?’
‘Not any more.’
‘Why not?’
‘Oh, I’ll fill you in on the details when I see you. There’s only one shoot left and I’ll be on the first train back to Paddington tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Do I take it that your affair with the intrepid surfer is off?’
‘Alice…’
‘It’s just that since you told me about him I’ve been reading his blog. It’s really interesting. Did you know he used to own a microbrewery in Northumberland? He’s won quite a few prestigious awards too!’
‘Yes, I did know, but Matt prefers not to talk about it. I think he blames himself for its closure. He still loves everything to do with the industry though.’
‘You can say that again. His whole blog is an homage to his love of every drink imaginable, some of which I’ve never even heard of. What on earth is sarsaparilla? Anyway, it’s just that…’
‘What?’
‘Well, his last blog post did say he had recently decided to take up his writing pen again and was working on a special book about artisan beverages inspired by an epic trip he has recently undertaken, which would include the most amazing photographs to document every step of the way.’
‘Oh, he did, did he?’
‘Well, I sort of assumed they would be yours and that Matt was your first client. Is it true, Em? You have you decided to go freelance, haven’t you? If you ever need an assistant, don’t forget I’m always available.’
‘Al, I haven’t decided anything. And no, Matt is not my first client. In fact, I had no idea he planned to use any of the photographs I’ve taken for his book; a series of articles yes, to showcase the brewers and distillers of Cornwall, but not to use them in a full-length book for people to buy and stick on their coffee tables or kitchen shelves.’
And not without my permission, she thought as a snap of anger flashed through her mind at uncovering the reason he’d borrowed of her flash drive. What made it worse was that if he had asked, she would have been delighted at the opportunity to showcase her work in such a way.
However, it was neither the time nor the place to discuss the matter with Alice.
‘Can we talk about this when I get back? You won’t believe it but I’ve just embarked on a hike up the second highest peak in Cornwall. I want to get it over with as soon as possible so we can move on to the last overnight stop.’
‘Okay, darling. I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you and Matt.’
‘Oh, it was just a couple of drinks. Neither of us intended it to be anything serious. I’m happy for you, darling. Send Fenella my love!’ And before Alice could prolong the conversation any further Emilie swiped the screen of her phone and shoved it into her back pocket.
She looked up towards to the crest of the hill where Matt was waiting for her, his silhouette stark against the darkening sky – and strangely menacing. She forced her feet up the flint-strewn path to join him and fell into step at his side.
‘Even under these skies the view is stunning, don’t you think?’ He pointed to his left. ‘That lake was part of the long-closed Stannon China Clay Works and over there is Crowdy Woods and what used to be Davidstow Airfield. But just wait until we reach the top, you can see almost all the way from north to south Cornwall. I hope you’ve got your camera ready. Was that Alice?’
‘Yes.’ Emilie plastered a smile on her lips, anxious to keep the trek friendly. ‘She was ringing to tell me that she’s landed her dream assignment and has offered me my first chance to go freelance if I want to.’
‘Oh, that’s great news.’ Matt smiled at her, but there was a question in his eyes over her somewhat subdued reaction to Alice’s offer.
She made to stride ahead of him, not wanting to remain under the microscope of his scrutiny. She knew she would never win a gold award for her acting skills, but was relieved he’d put her reticence of being in his company down to her aversion to outdoor pursuits. As they pressed on towards the summit, the first spot of rain landed on the back of her hand. She glanced up to the bank of folded pewter clouds, which were stealing the light from their path and grumbling in the distance.
‘Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been acting strangely since this morning. If you really don’t want to do this, we can go back down to the van.’
‘Oh, no, it’s okay.’
‘Then tell me what’s wrong?’ Matt stopped, blocking her path as the light pitter-patter of raindrops swiftly morphed into an insistent downpour.
‘I just thought you were different, that’s all.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Just that it seems Brad, you and all the other men who saunter into my life are only interested in their own selfish pursuits.’
‘I’m sorry, Emilie, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What am I supposed to have done?’
‘Don’t pretend you don’t know,’ she snapped, raising her voice above the deluge that lashed down from above like needles of ice. Her anger had bubbled to the surface and she couldn’t douse it despite the look of incredulity at her accusation on Matt’s face. ‘You know, Matt, I was actually going to give you a copy of all the photographs I’ve taken on this trip. Alice told me about your blog.’
Matt paused to scrutinise her face and a shadow of sadness floated across his eyes, washing away the inner glow that was always so prevalent in his temperament.
‘I don’t know what Alice said to you, but I have not used any of your photographs. All the photographs I use in my posts and my articles are those I have taken myself or have written permission to use. You’re not the only one who has mastered the complex intricacies of a camera you know!’
Matt turned his back on her and strode off up the steep trail. She yanked up the hood of the borrowed cagoule and continued to scramble in his wake, her feet slipping and sliding on the path that was speckled with fallen leaves, her footing less sure than Matt’s confident stride.
Within minutes the canopy overhead had morphed into velvety darkness and the meteorological gods bared their teeth with a vengeance. There was a sudden flash of light and her irritation with Matt evaporated as a shiver of fear rippled down her spine. The wind had picked up and the branches of the trees at the path’s edge were bending almost perpendicularly to its will.
‘Matt, wait!’
Her stomach tightened so she reached out to grasp Matt’s arm, but her foot slipped from under her and she toppled towards the ground, uttering a few choice words.
Matt reacted instinctively. He stretched forward to catch her and she watched in vivid slow motion as he lost his footing and disappeared over the side of the hill. She heard his rucksack land with a thump.
‘Argh!’
‘Matt! Matt!’
She scrambled to her feet, covered in mud but no worse for her fall. She peered over the ledge to see Matt staring back up at her only a couple of metres or so below, his face pale with a bluish tinge and pain scrawled across his features.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I think I might have broken my arm and maybe dislocated my shoulder,’ he groaned, rolling onto his side in a futile attempt to push himself upright with his uninjured arm, before falling back to reveal a gash across his forehead and a trail of blood oozing down his cheek.
Emilie reached down the slope and hooked one of the handles of the rucksack over her wrist to drag it up to the path. Then she scuttled down on her bottom and slowly guided Matt up to join it, whereupon he collapsed to the ground in agony, fighting to catch his breath.
The rain had increased its velocity. The pathway they had walked up only minutes before had become a cascade of multiple rivulets. Once again Matt tried to stand, leaning heavily on Emilie, but he only managed the few steps required to seek the cover of a gathering of holly bushes.
‘Oh, God! What are we going to do?’
A clammy sweat doused her skin as she stared at Matt. His whole body seemed to have closed inwards as he tried to control his pain and work out a plan. Ripples of dread chased around her chest. There was no way she could carry Matt to where they’d left the camper van. She grabbed her phone but predictably there was no signal. Water dripped from her nose and her chin and blurred her vision as panic rose and slowed her brain cells to a juddering halt.
Whilst she indulged in a frenzy of panic, Matt was fiddling with the zipper of the backpack, but was having trouble extracting the contents.
‘What do you need?’
‘There’s a medical kit.’ He grimaced. ‘Painkillers first, please, and then there should be a sling for my arm and something to stop the bleeding.’
Emilie searched the rucksack and quickly found the kit. Everything she took out became sodden within moments despite the shelter afforded by the holly bush. However, she managed to hand Matt a handful of painkillers and a bottle of water and he swallowed them down gratefully. She tied the makeshift sling around his wrist and neck as best she could and then attended to his forehead, dabbing it with antiseptic and administering a plaster.
‘We have to get back to the camper van,’ Matt said, his teeth clenched against an upsurge of pain. He began to limp out from the shelter.
‘Oh, Matt, it looks like you’ve sprained your ankle too!’
‘Yes, but I reckon I can hobble if you give me your arm to steady me. Think you can do it?’
‘Of course,’ she said with more confidence than she felt.
She reached down to take his good arm and with an almost comedic manoeuvre managed to help him upright. A spasm of poker-hot terror sliced through her chest and out to her fingertips as she thought of the imminent trek down the hill to the car park, but that was nothing compared to what Matt had to endure. Yet an expression of determination had appeared on his face, which galvanised her into action. With his arm over her shoulder, she took first one step and then another until they established a rhythm. As they descended, freezing and miserable, Emilie briefly considered the possibility of bursting into tears, but how would that help?
She gritted her teeth and focused solely on putting one foot in front of the other until the most welcome sight emerged through the grey drizzle – the Satsuma Splittie, the only vehicle left in the car park, waiting patiently for their return like a loyal friend. She slid back the side door and Matt rolled in with a gasp of pain as he jolted his shoulder blade against the table leg.
Emilie grabbed her phone again, relief beginning to flood her veins as she thought of the ambulance that would shortly be on its way to help them, but the euphoria was short-lived.
‘Oh God! There’s still no damn signal! How can that be? I was speaking to Alice only thirty minutes ago and the line was as clear as anything.’ She felt heat rush to her cheeks as she was reminded that Alice’s call was the catalyst to Matt falling over the ridge. But there would be plenty of time for self-recrimination later.
‘It’s probably the storm. Coverage is patchy around here. I’m sorry, Emilie, you’ll have to drive me to the hospital.’ Matt’s pallor had deteriorated to the tone and texture of putty. ‘The nearest minor injuries centre is in Bodmin. There’s a map in the glove compartment. You can leave me there and continue with the trip.’
And with that declaration he promptly passed out.