Chapter 26
Helena lay in her narrow sleeping bag, hands at her sides, as she had nowhere else to put them. Did people enjoy sleeping in tents? Every time she moved, her inflatable roll mat crackled and her sleeping bag crinkled violently. It was like going to bed in a crisp packet.
She pressed her bladder, testing whether she needed to pee.
The thought of rustling out of her sleeping bag, unzipping the tent, pushing her blistered heels into her boots, and then stumbling in the dark to squat with her trousers around her ankles made her want to cry. She was homesick for her en suite.
She became aware of her hands, which had shifted and were now resting over her womb.
She could feel the warmth of her body beneath her palms. Somewhere in there was a .
. . fetus. Yes. Fetus. That was the word.
Baby was far too emotive. Babies were real, with feelings and needs. A fetus was . . . scientific. Abstract.
Her palms moved in small, slow circles. It felt nice, so she didn’t stop.
Her plan was to not think about the pregnancy, or talk about it, but the problem was, her body seemed very busy steaming right ahead—pumping out hormones that made her exhausted, her body tender, her appetite fierce.
Or was that just how everyone felt after a day of hiking with a hulking great backpack?
She should sleep. She slid a hand free from the sleeping bag, reaching for the small torch Maggie had left glowing, and switched it off. She lay still, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She lifted a hand in front of her face. Couldn’t see it. Waited.
“It’s so dark I can’t breathe,” Maggie whispered.
“Thought you were asleep.”
“Too scared.” Helena heard Maggie rolling onto her side. “You all right, after the Joni argument?”
“I’m surprised Joni bothered pulling me out of the river.”
“You know Joni loves you, don’t you? Her not showing up, it’s never about us. It’s about her.”
“I know,” she said quietly. Then she bunched onto her side, too—God, everything ached—and lowered her voice further. “It was a shock about Liz and Patrick separating.”
She could feel Maggie’s breath against her face as she asked, “How did Patrick seem when you met recently?”
“Happy to be let off the leash.”
“Helena!”
“What? You know he likes a few drinks when Liz isn’t around.” She paused. “Don’t you feel a bit duped? Liz planned this trip to fit in with her separation schedule.”
Maggie didn’t say anything. She could be counted on for many things, but bitching wasn’t one.
Her silence only encouraged Helena. “Why does her life have to be this neat, perfect thing?”
“Shush,” Maggie said.
“It’s true! It’s all smiles and plans and maps and checklists, but why couldn’t she have just picked up the phone and said, You know what? Patrick and I are having a rough time. I could do with getting away. Will you come? And we’d have said, Yes!”
“I was saying shush because I can hear something!”
“Oh.” Helena stopped talking and listened. Beyond the tent she could hear a light wind moving through the branches of the trees. Was it pine needles whispering together?
Maggie’s voice was hesitant as she asked, “Vilhelm . . . where do you think he went?”
“Home to his bed if he has any sense.”
“He had a camping pack.”
That was true. He’d looked just the sort to be able to survive out in the wilderness for weeks, probably setting traps for rabbits or living off fish he’d caught.
Maggie’s voice lowered further. “He knows we’re camping out here, alone. All that stuff he was saying about thin places . . . it’s spooked me.” Maggie reached through the darkness for Helena’s arm.
“That’s my boob.”
“Oh.”
Beyond the tent, Helena heard movement.
Maggie went still.
There it was again. Footsteps? Then the crack of a branch underfoot.
“Someone’s out there!” Maggie whispered.
Helena held her breath, listening to the distinct sound of footsteps approaching. Her muscles contracted. There was a sudden rush of motion and Helena cried out as she took a blow against her shoulder.
Maggie screamed in the dark.
Disoriented, Helena punched back at the tent. Her knuckles met the solid mass of something human on the other side.
A scream!
Helena lashed out again in the darkness.
“Ow!”
Then Maggie was pinning her by the arms. “Stop!” Maggie shouted.
Beyond the tent, she heard Liz’s voice. “It’s me! Are you trying to kill me?”
Helena wriggled from her sleeping bag, unzipped the tent, and pushed her head out. In the moonlight, she could see the outline of Liz staggering to her feet.
“What the hell?” Joni said, emerging from her tent and flicking on a torch.
Liz held a hand in front of her face. “I went for a wee and tripped over their guy rope!”
“You landed on me!” said Helena, who was still catching her breath, heart drilling. “We thought we were about to be murdered in our beds!”
Joni laughed, the sound breaking the tension, the torch beam shaking.
“Sorry!” Liz said.
Joni was still laughing. Maggie, too.
Helena supposed it was funny.
As she was up, she might as well go for that wee now. She couldn’t face pushing her blistered heels into her hiking boots, so she padded barefoot across the damp grass. She squatted a little distance from the tents, hearing the hot stream of her piss hit the earth.
She wondered why Liz had been close enough to their tent to trip over the guy rope—and whether she’d heard them talking.
Still. Helena hadn’t said anything she hadn’t meant.
She finished her wee and resettled her trousers. When she looked up, she heard a movement beyond the dying flames of the fire. She fumbled with her torch, shining it in the direction of the sound—but there was nothing.
She directed the beam across the grassy area, circling slowly, eyes squinting to focus. Trees loomed tall, black shadows huddled between them. She felt watched, although she couldn’t remember being further from civilization.
Oddly, an image drifted into her thoughts of the man she’d shagged at the lodge. Austin. She recalled the taste of cider and meat on his breath. The cold blue eyes. The way he’d called out to her, See you again!
Helena took a final look around, then crawled back into the tent, pulling the zip behind her.