Chapter 28
Maggie was at the rear of the group. Again. She was coated in sweat and breathing hard. She hooked her thumbs beneath the straps of her backpack, but the knot of muscles between her shoulder blades continued to spasm.
With every step the forest seemed to deepen, the blue sky long swallowed by a green ceiling. The air felt heavy with the damp, earthy smell of moss, fern spores, and the sweet rot of turning foliage.
They’d walked through the morning, stopping only for a short, unsatisfying lunch of crispbreads, nuts, and cheese, before continuing. She had no idea how far they had to go until they reached the coast.
The trail ascended gradually, the incline barely visible, but she could feel it in her calves and the forgotten muscles in her backside.
Head down, she slogged on. She watched the rise and fall of her thick thighs in purple leggings.
She wished she were fitter. She’d never fully succeeded in shifting the baby weight after having Phoebe.
She didn’t know how Liz had managed it, with twins and a career to juggle.
But then Liz was one of those disciplined people who would never raid a cookie drawer.
She lugged herself onward, her breathing coming in uneven draws. The earthy ground was rooted and dark. Rocks coated with acid-yellow lichen studded the forest floor. Moss clung to the trunks of thin saplings, so that everywhere was licked green.
Up ahead, the others had stopped. Their packs were off, water bottles raised to their mouths, heads tipped back.
A shaft of sunlight had found its way through the thick canopy of trees, and it struck them beautifully, lighting the planes of Helena’s cheek.
How was she managing this, pregnant, her heels pocked with blisters?
Maggie felt ashamed to be the one at the back, complaining, slowing them all down.
By the time she reached the others, they were already twisting lids back onto their bottles, heaving packs over shoulders.
Liz was studying the map hanging at her neck. “Only another couple of kilometers until we’re out of the woods and on the mountainside. From there, we should be able to see the coast.”
It wasn’t far. Maggie could do it. She had to do it.
Already the others were returning to the track, pointing at the next red T-marker ahead.
“Just having a wee,” Maggie called, frustrated that she hadn’t had a chance to rest.
She ducked off the path, boots pressing into the soft bed of moss that was kissed emerald-gold by patches of sun. Struggling to undo the waistband of her shorts, she had to shoulder off her backpack.
She squatted beside a tree, listening to the quiet of the forest, the whir of insects, the gentle dance of the breeze through the leaves.
When she was finished, she dug a hole in the earth with the toe of her boot, then buried the tissue paper there.
She was meant to carry the paper out—she knew that—but then she’d have to dig around in her pack for the Ziploc bag she’d brought and, honestly, she just didn’t have the energy.
She grimaced at the pain as she pulled on her pack, refastening the buckles across her chest and waist.
She stepped forward, then faltered. Which direction was the path? The mossy, root-veined ground all looked the same. Had she overshot the trail—or was she on it? She felt weirdly disoriented—like when you step out of a shop in an overly bright retail park and find your orientation scrambled.
She turned on the spot, searching for the path they’d been following. It was right here, surely? She peered through thick-trunked trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the others, but they’d been swallowed by dense forest.
The first prickling of panic inched across her scalp. “Helena?” she called.
No answer.
“Joni? Liz?”
She waited.
The faint rush of water sounded from a distance.
“Where are you?” she shouted, louder this time, urgent.
But there was no response.
They’d walked on.
Maybe they hadn’t heard her saying she was stopping for a wee. She could only have been a few minutes at most. One of them would look around soon and notice she was missing.
A tightness spread across her chest, breath shallowing as she felt the forest pressing close. The scale and size felt ominous, looming. Her gaze skittered anxiously.
Above her there was an explosion of movement in the canopy. Maggie reared away, arms drawn defensively toward her face—but it was only a bird taking flight.
The beat of panic picked up its pace, her heartrate thundering. She couldn’t stop her thoughts from racing ahead: what if she didn’t find the others? She pictured the map of the area—the huge expanse of wilderness. If she’d lost her friends in minutes, how would anyone find her?
She scrabbled in the side pocket of her pack, pulling out her phone. She held it in front of her face, willing the screen to reveal a magical bar of reception.
No signal.
She wiped her mouth.
She thumbed to the map on her phone, squinting. Before leaving the lodge, she’d photographed the trail map. The light quality must have been poor, because when she zoomed in, the map pixelated to a blur.
Shit!
She shoved the phone away and glanced about.
In her panic she’d been turning on the spot and had now lost all sense of direction. The forest had become a wall of green, the sunlight swallowed by the dense canopy.
Maggie was lost.