Chapter Five
James spends a few more minutes trying to pull his hair out before getting up and walking away from me further down the edge of the lake, kicking stones into the water with his black work shoes. His hair has already started to lose its shape as the fierce winds drag clouds in, bringing with them a thin sea mist that mars the scenery into a grey nothingness. Every now and again, he looks back towards where I’m sat on the boulder with a pained expression.
I’ve tucked my dress underneath me as if I’m out for a leisurely picnic. What you can’t see, though, are the blisters on my feet from this morning’s walk. I take my phone out and see I’ve got just over sixty per cent battery left. I’m not sure why I’m calm right now but I’ve heard that the human mind is conditioned to act in accordance with those around us. So, as we both can’t freak out right now, I think I’m compensating for James with a rational mindset.
Maybe my turn will be later.
I switch my phone off, tucking it back into my dress pocket.
As James finally makes his way towards me, I look away, not enjoying the expression he’s got plastered across his face. He’s really hating the thought of spending time with me. I also hate the thought of spending time with him. But he’s horrified by the prospect. Am I really that bad?
“I’ve got hardly any battery left. We could call 999 on your phone,” he suggests. “It should connect with a satellite or something like that.”
“Calm down. It’s hardly an emergency. And besides I’ve turned my phone off to preserve battery.”
James blinks. “But we’re abandoned, Fel-ici-ty . Don’t you see?” He spins in a circle, hands out to demonstrate our tragic situation. As if to prove his point the cloud thins, and light raindrops spatter down onto my nose. “We need rescuing.”
“We don’t need rescuing. Michael left us a very clear note with instructions. And besides, this is a test, isn’t it? Don’t you want to pass, since you’re supposedly in the running for promotion too?”
James sputters. “Oh god, you’re actually insane. You think I’m going to hike across Scotland dressed like this? Not a chance.”
“Why not? It’ll be an adventure…” I’m really grasping at straws here. I don’t really want to do this either, but Michael has set us a challenge and he’s going to be very disappointed in me if I don’t at least give it a go. “Aren’t you trying to impress him too? He said we should cooperate. Find ways to put our competitive natures aside.”
James watches me curiously for a moment, his eyes searching for something. The note maybe? It’s tucked into my dress pocket for safekeeping.
“I’m going to sue the bastard,” James says, nodding to himself. I watch as the smart quiff at the front of his head flops down onto his forehead from the weight of the, now fatter, raindrops drenching us. “Oh bloody hell!” he sobs.
“Don’t be such a baby. It’s just a bit of rain.”
“Ok. Ok. I’ll go this way. You go that way. The first one to reach someone can call for rescue. If you stick to the main road, then I’ll find you.”
I laugh. “Oh, I get it. You’re scared.”
“I am not. He’s abandoned you, Felicity! He’s abandoned you with a man you despise in a place with zero phone signal and no help whatsoever. We have nothing. What if one of us has a heart attack? What then?”
“Then we have my phone. I’ll save the battery for real emergencies. Come on, don’t be so dramatic. Let’s find shelter; I’m getting drenched through.”
The rain isn’t even that hard but it’s somehow soaking into my clothing with efficiency. My cotton cardi is plastered to my shoulders, my hair is sticking to my forehead and my tights feel as if they’ve been glued onto my legs. I climb up from the boulder, peering around at our surroundings. Well, there are certainly no buildings in sight. A few trees poke out between the layers of low-lying cloud, huddled together at the top of a hill some way in the distance.
“Look over there,” I say positively, pointing in their direction. James gives me a frown to show he’s listening. “Let’s get the bags and walk up there. It’s higher up, so we can use it as a viewpoint. And the trees will make a shelter. We can plan our next steps from there.”
James continues to glare me down, so, I take off on my own, expecting him to follow but deciding I’ll have to go alone if he insists on being a mopey git. Michael wants a character assessment of me, well, he’ll get one. No challenge is too big. I’ll take on the Scottish Highlands like a falcon.
Ok, so I’m maybe more of a pigeon. But I’ll fly, nonetheless.
I grab the smaller hiking bag, assuming the bigger one is for James, and hoist it onto my shoulder, tucking the note into a side pocket along with the money.
“Come on, Gloatman,” I call. “We might have snacks in our bags. No point opening them here as everything will get wet.”
“Shouldn’t we stick to the roads? In case a car comes?”
“Have you seen any in the past few hours?” I ask, pointedly, turning to face him but walking backwards in the direction I’m headed. “All I’ve seen is a tractor.”
James pinches the bridge of his nose, watching me leave with a stormy expression. “Look at what you’re wearing. How the hell do you foresee yourself hiking in those boots and that dress?”
“I’ll be fine… Sometimes I walk to work instead of getting the bus in these things, and they’re fine ,” I say, ignoring the pain pulsing in my feet.
“Not across the bloody Scottish Highlands,” he mutters. “I’m sure people have died from doing stupid shit like this.”
I don’t respond to this. But have they?
It’ll be ok.
We won’t die.
We have fifty pounds and a mobile phone for emergencies if needed.
I give him one last prod. I raise my eyebrows in his direction, a telling quirk in my lips. “I dare you,” I say.
James watches me, his lips pressed together in a firm line. I experience a sudden rush of heat wash through me as our gazes lock. Finally, he throws his head back, closing his eyes against the rain, which has now trained his hair into a long, floppy mess. I never knew it could look so shaggy. Then, as if he’s conjured up the energy to deal with me, or has realised he’ll have to take part in order to out-character-assess me, he follows on behind, grabbing the other bag as he goes.
*
The trees are further away than I thought they were, especially when we discover there are patches of swamp, multiple slippery, rocky surfaces and long stretches of rough terrain to cross on the way there, whilst also wading through thick patches of thigh-high bracken. There’s a lake we have to walk around – not fancying the swim, despite already being damp through.
Every now and again I hear a huff behind me, followed by some choice words about our esteemed leader.
Michael’s not perfect but he isn’t evil. He didn’t do this to punish us. I mean, there’s clearly a passion tax that drives a lot of the events industry, and I’d be a fool if I said I wasn’t victim to it. I’m not totally money driven. But I would like to one day have my own flat. One without mould. Or a hole in the floor. And a wardrobe instead of a dehumidifier acting as a clothes horse. That would be nice. And yet, in the meantime I do love working in the events industry. It’s more interesting than working for, say, an aluminium company. I’m aware, however, that they do pay significantly more for marketing people. Probably because it’s so boring.
“He doesn’t pay me enough for this shit. And to abandon me with…” James pauses.
“Go on, say it,” I dare him without looking back, trying and failing to cross a patch of swamp with only a few naturally placed stepping stones to help me. There’s not really a footpath. At least, I’m not sure anything round here is forged by human feet. Anything path-resembling was formed by roaming wildlife. I lose my balance and my boot lands in the mud, coating the beautiful red suede in an unrecoverable way.
“ Noooo , fuck,” I hiss. Yanking myself out to the drier piece of land, I try to stamp it out a bit but there’s no hope. And despite trying really, really hard to hold it together in front of Gloatman, I can now feel the prick of tears threatening to ruin me.
I swore I would never cry in front of him.
James opens his mouth just in time to distract me from it. “I have nothing to say you don’t already know.”
I roll my eyes. I knew he hated me, of course I did. But part of me was hoping it wasn’t quite so bad. That maybe it was more of a respected rivalry. “Let me guess. I know you think I’m the definition of petty. You probably think I’m a busybody. That I dress too brightly for work meetings? I once heard through a colleague that you criticised my makeup choices.” I sometimes go big on colour with lips and eyeshadow too. “Hmm… What else—”
“I never did that,” he interrupts.
“What?”
“I never said anything personal. How does what you wear matter to me? Whoever said that was either projecting or lying.”
“Projecting!?” I gasp. “So other people think that about me?”
“Oh hell, you need to stop caring what other people think so much. Just let it go.”
That’s easy to say, I’m sure, if you haven’t grown up in a battlefield where all you can think about is what other people are thinking and how you can adapt your behaviour to prevent them from being upset or cross or stressed. I doubt, very much, that James has zero concerns about what other people think. It’s human nature. “You’re telling me you never care what other people think about you?”
He stops beside me, staring at my mud-sodden boot. I could weep . I sniff, as my nose starts to sting. Everything stings.
They’re only boots, Fliss. Let them go!
James shrugs. “I don’t.”
I frown at his face, expecting him to expand on the why part of his statement, but he says no more, striding ahead, leading us towards the trees. And by luck, he seems to be better at picking out a decent path, taking extra consideration to avoid muddy, swampy patches.
We’re both puffing when we reach the top of the incline where the tall trees have once been planted in a circled-out plot of land. It’s too perfect to be naturally formed. We venture in, James using his hands to separate spider webs draped between the trunks. I shudder as we take a seat on the twiggy ground, looking out across the valley we’ve just covered. The clouds are thick across the sky still, bundled together like big damp pillows leaking down on us.
The rain has dried up and left behind the sea mist. It’s inescapable, even sheltered below the thick branches of leaves above us. It’s sort of like sitting in one of those steam rooms at a spa. Except it’s cold. And there are no fluffy slippers and dressing gowns patiently waiting for us to grab on the way out.
James sighs audibly, shaking out his wet hair like a damp dog. Drops of water splash on my face. I growl at him, shoving his shoulder.
“Let’s check these bags out then, shall we?” he suggests, ignoring me. “He better have packed spare phones or something in here.”
There’s noticeably more contained in his bag than mine, which is baggy at the top, whilst his is packed full. We unzip them, quietly taking out a few items. James has a small tent in his that pretty much pops out fully made, with a bag of pegs and folded poles. I fiddle around in my bag too. I find some walking trainers ( thank you, Michael ), a pair of hiking trousers, spare vests, knickers (which I discreetly hide from James’ view and pray sweetly that this was in fact packed by Michael’s secretary, Millie) and a thermal jumper. I suspect Millie guessed I’m a size twelve pants, size ten top, because we’re similar sizes.
“It’s sort of annoying me that he put so much thought into this,” James says.
“Why?”
“Because it means he was planning it for a while. And I don’t think he was alone. At least he’s packed toothbrushes and toothpaste,” he adds. “And empty bottles.”
“I guess we fill them with natural water.”
“As opposed to fake water?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.
“You know what I mean.”
It surprises me when he actually laughs. I smile too. “You’ve been looking like the Joker for the last hour by the way. It’s been entertaining to watch your face melt.” And there it goes.
My smile snaps into a glare. “Nice hair, Gloatman. Did you drag it backwards through the half-submerged hedgerows back there?”
Now his smile fades too. “Great, no hair gel.”
Thankfully, it’s my turn to laugh. “Have you found any snacks yet?”
James fiddles around some more. He discovers a pack of baby wipes and some deodorant in his bag. In mine I find a can of dry shampoo, but unfortunately Millie or Michael neglected to pack a hairbrush.
I’ve been so busy dealing with the shenanigans of the day I’ve totally neglected to acknowledge my rumbling stomach and now it won’t go unheard. James gives me a startled look when it grumbles again. “Was that your stomach or thunder?”
“Stomach. Keep looking for snacks… I’m terrified of considering the alternative.”
“You mean hunting?”
“Not hunting. Nope. Won’t do it. I’m more of a gatherer than a hunter.”
James blows out a breath. “Of course, you are. Here,” he says, passing me a protein bar. “They’re in the bottom compartment. Do you have one?”
I lift my bag, unzipping it from the side, and as I do, six boxes of tampons fall onto my lap. “What the hell?”
“Jeez, how many boxes do you need?”
“I didn’t pack this, James,” I say. And for goodness’ sake. Why am I blushing? I’m a thirty-year-old woman and here I am blushing over a man seeing my tampons. They’re not even my tampons! “I don’t even need these right now.”
“And even if you did,” he says, “one-hundred and eighty of them for a few nights away is a bit extreme.”
“How do you know that? Do you secretly have a girlfriend you hide from the office?”
James shakes his head, unwrapping and biting into his protein bar. He chews on it whilst saying, “Sisters, three of them.”
“You have three sisters? How did I not know that?”
“Why would you? You never asked.”
I suppose he has a point. I do tend to avoid conversations with him as they nearly always end in an argument over something work related.
He takes another bite, staring out into the scenery as a large bird glides by. Must be some kind of hawk or falcon or something. I sort of wish I had binoculars and a bird book so I could identify it. “What about you?” he asks.
“Huh? Me?”
“Siblings?”
“Oh no, just me. Only child, my parents are divorced.” I cringe. Not sure why that’s relevant.
James nods as if he understands. “My dad left before my youngest sister was born.”
“Sorry,” I say, shuffling as the twiggy surface below me is starting to grow uncomfortable.
He shrugs as if it’s of no importance. “Sophie’s in labour. The eldest of my three sisters. She’s a year younger than me. That’s who I called earlier. Well, not her. Her husband. But he’s not answering and I’m sort of shitting myself right now.”
“Oh god, that’s… Did Michael know that?”
James bites the side of his cheek, pulling it into his mouth, leaving a hollow. “Not in detail, I guess. He doesn’t really ask about our personal lives, does he? But that’s why I shared the jet. I was late for the flight because I was at the hospital with Mum. Was hoping that meant I was off the hook. But nope.” He takes a long sigh. “I’m going to fucking sue him, Felicity.”
I frown. This is the most I’ve ever heard James talk about himself. It’s annoying because I’d prefer to keep him at arms’ length, but also, I feel bad for him and slightly resentful of Michael for dragging him out here – even if he wasn’t fully aware of his situation. And yet, I can’t bring myself to say anything bad about him, or even agree.
What’s wrong with me?
James finds another zip inside the main compartment of his rucksack. He pulls out a beige bag, fastened at the top and frowns as he opens it. Without putting too much thought into it he sticks his hand in and out come a handful of condoms and a bottle of lube. My mouth drops open as James panics, stuffing them back into the bag and to the side of his lap.
“Was that…!?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Oh my god! Oh my god! What does he think…?”
“I don’t want to think about it,” James mutters and I’m sort of relieved when I notice colour flooding into his cheeks too. Only problem is, I can’t tell if he’s embarrassed or outraged.
“Where’s your tent?” he asks, changing the subject, a notch forming between his brows as he peers across at my now-empty bag I’m busily stuffing tampons back into.
“I’m not sure…” That’s when it hits. I grab at the sleeping bag, still fastened into its packet. “This is all I’ve got. Does he think I’m going to sleep under the stars?”
James shakes his head, a sympathetic— actually no , a patronising expression crossing his face. “Do the math, Felicity. One tent. Twenty-something condoms.”
“Is he… Is he pimping us out to each other?”
He looks back at the scenery ahead of us, broken up between patches of cloud. I’ve been in tall buildings in London before where you feel like you’re higher than the weather. A white blanket blocking out the world below. It’s somehow slightly nerve-racking seeing it here though. I didn’t think we were even that high above sea level. Or maybe it’s just low-lying cloud.
“So, let me get this straight,” I say, clenching my eyes closed as I exhale slowly. “We’ve been abandoned in the Scottish Highlands with one tent, two sleeping bags, some empty bottles and a few protein bars, twenty-something condoms and a bottle of lube?”
“And one hundred and eighty tampons,” James adds helpfully.