Chapter Eleven
James wraps the driest sleeping bag around my shoulders as I perch on the rock back by the campsite. My gash doesn’t look quite so bad now without the blood. He’s been careful to only clean around it, trying hard not to get any more unsterilised water in, or around, the actual cut itself. Without any phones to use, it all feels a little more serious than it did this morning.
He pulls my leg out in front of me to inspect. It just so happens he is one of the first-aid-trained staff in our company. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches. I’m still worried it might get infected though. Should we pour some of the vodka on there? I’ve seen that done in a film before.”
“That sounds painful.”
James winces. “Probably will be. Let’s just keep an eye on it, yeah?”
“So, what? Do we just leave it?”
He leans back to take the strips of his shirt from where they’re hanging. Turning back to me with a grimace, he says, “I think we should bandage it to prevent dirt getting in. I found this leaf.” He’s holding a big waxy leaf he’s picked off a bush somewhere. “I’ll use this as a gauze. You don’t want to risk it getting mucky. And given our current situation that could pose somewhat tricky.”
“Have you done this before?”
He laughs nervously. “ No . I’m massively improvising here. Please don’t sue me if it goes wrong.”
“Only person I’m suing is Michael.”
“Well, well,” he says, smiling. “That’s my girl.”
My eyebrows shoot upwards, realising what he’s said. James must realise too, as his smile vanishes. He coughs to clear his throat, rearranging his already arranged strips of shirt. “I’m glad you’re finally starting to see him for the raging lunatic he is.”
I nod. “Right.”
He clears his throat again, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he hands me the bottle of vodka. “Painkiller.”
I unscrew the lid. The first sip is as awful as it was earlier. I squint, stick out my tongue and shudder as James places the leaf carefully onto my cut, slowly and meticulously wrapping his shirt around it to secure.
James passes me another protein bar, making a joke about fine dining with a view. I look around at our surroundings. We’re in somewhat of an angular glade, so you can see right out into the distance. There’s no sign of human life. It’s all wilderness for as far as the eye can see. Bracken is thick across this part of the world, leaving a layer of soft greenery for the wildlife to hide amongst, but today we’ve seen all sorts of creatures, from grey rabbits to red deer, their antlers held fiercely above them as their calves pootle around their legs, looking for teats. Unfamiliar with human activity, they’re slow to dart away, so we both get a good look.
“I’m sure we could eat something out here,” I say. “What about fish in the lake?”
“Do you know how to fish?”
“No,” I laugh. “But if I get desperate enough, I’ll go all savage and stab them with sticks like they do in the movies.”
James snorts. “I’ll make traps out of shredded shirt sleeves. We’ll be the wild people of Scotland.”
As the first midge appears, I suggest we play a game to pass the time. But James is dead set on getting a fire burning before the light completely diminishes. For the next thirty minutes he busies himself looking for stones and firewood. Once he’s got a half-decent set up, he gives me a look, and asks, “You know how to make a flame?”
“You’re kidding, aren’t you? You just did all that, and you don’t know how to make a flame?”
“I don’t have matches.”
“Aren’t you supposed to scratch sticks together?”
He has a go, trying several different things. Then, through sheer force and persistence, he manages to spark a flame. He does the same thing again and again until, at last, a small fire is glowing a few metres from our tent. I practically launch forwards, tucking myself fully into my sleeping bag like a slug, with just my face visible. I perch on the ground once again.
The heat is lush. James disappears to find a few more pieces of firewood to keep it alight throughout the evening as I interchange between sipping vodka and taking bites of my protein bar. When I get back to normality. If I get back to normality. I will never touch one of these nasty bars again. The taste and texture are already turning my stomach.
I drink more vodka. When James returns, he smiles. “Look at those red cheeks. You feeling a bit better?”
I nod. “I’ve had quite a bit of this,” I say, holding up the bottle. I noticeably sway, even in my seated position. “You should have some now before I drink it all.”
He comes over and sits beside me. His sleeping bag is dry too, so he steps into it, making himself cosy. He positions himself so that he’s hugging his knees over the material. “What game did you want to play?”
“What about that one where we choose a celeb and the other has to guess who we are?”
“Boring,” he says.
“Fine,” I say. “Let’s play truth. Except instead of me asking the questions, you just have to give me deep, pressing, emotional truths and I will do the same.” Hmm. I’m not sure how good of an idea this is now I’ve said it out loud. Can I trust Gloatman, or am I dangerously tipsy and at risk of being too candid and vulnerable?
James is looking at me with a face that is undoubtedly sincere. “Me first?”
I nod. He shuffles, getting comfy as he takes a bite of his bar. I watch his face run through a mix of emotions as he considers what to tell me first. He’s clearly got a lot of truths he could say. I’m not even sure I have enough about me to play this game. Why did I suggest this again? I take another sip of vodka whilst I wait.
“Alright, let’s see,” he muses. “Well, I’ve had two serious girlfriends end things with me,” he announces. And wow , wasn’t expecting that. “One was my sixth-form girlfriend, who didn’t want a boyfriend before university. And then again before I moved to London. Er, actually, I moved to London when I was twenty-three because of the breakup. Our town wasn’t big enough for the both of us, as the adage goes. Especially as she broke up with me to get with my best friend.”
I’m dead still, listening. Did he really just tell me that? Is it even true? Was he in love with them? I can hardly imagine him with a girlfriend, let alone being dumped by one.
“Have I stunned you into silence?” he asks when I don’t say anything.
“Yeah,” I reply with a laugh. “I didn’t have you down as the long-term relationship type.”
He laughs too but doesn’t share any more details. “Your turn.”
“Right, ok. Sorry about that. That’s… It’s really rubbish. I sort of wish I’d known that about you before now.” James gives me a pleasant smile. It’s too intimate in the lowering sun, dropping an orange glow behind the landscape. I swallow as heat pools in my core again. “Because I’d have been able to jibe you for it, obviously.”
James makes a humoured face, nods. “Fair.”
“Ok, my turn. Um, so, my parents told me they only stayed together for fifteen years of their marriage because of me, and I guess I feel like I can never pay them back for that sort of misery.”
James nods again to show he’s listening but doesn’t say anything, so I assume he wants me to say more.
“It’s fine. Mum always talks about how she wasted her younger years raising me and looking after Dad. And then my dad’s out there making all these terrible decisions all the time and I don’t know how to stop either of them. It’s maddening.
“Also, they tell everyone I’m this big, successful businesswoman in the city. It’s lovely but also, it’s so much pressure . I see how happy it makes them and I can’t stop myself from pushing forwards. And don’t get me started about parental responsibilities of only children. I think about this a lot, but what happens when they get old? Where do I put them? They hate each other. I can’t have them in the same house. But I want to look after and provide for them both.”
I take a deep breath. That felt good to say out loud.
“That sounds hard,” James says. “I’m sure they’ll be proud of you, whatever you did. And clearly, nothing about their marriage or divorce was about you, no matter what they said. I’m sure they don’t blame you at all. Have you asked them?”
“Please don’t be so pragmatic,” I laugh. “Let me be insane about this.”
He chuckles too. “Ok, ok. Do they live near to London?”
“Near-ish,” I say. “I grew up in Sussex. Down by the coast. They both still live in the area, but separately, of course.”
“I’m sorry… I don’t have any advice.”
“That’s ok. I didn’t ask for it.” I suddenly feel embarrassed.
James puckers his lips in agreement. “You’re right. This is a moan fest. Not a problem-fixing session.”
“I’m cool with that.”
He shuffles beside me, takes another sip of vodka then hands it back. “Right, second thing… The rumours are true.”
“What rumours?”
James frowns. “How many are there?”
“Quite a few.”
“I slept with a client.”
I open my mouth like a dead fish, staring into the flames growing in height. I can’t believe what he’s just said. There’s no way. No! He wouldn’t. “You didn’t.”
He laughs at my reaction. “I did.”
“Who!?”
“Mrs Horley from Copper it was. It depends how you’re doing it. But let me guess, you’ll only have sex with a guy after three dates or something?”
I scoff. “Five.”
“Five?! Oh, brilliant.” He laughs good-humouredly. “I get it. That’s absolutely the right way to do it if you want to avoid getting burnt.” Then he adds, “I bet you’re something else to date.” But he doesn’t say it with the sort of burning tone he usually uses. It’s more inquisitive.
“Stop trying to change the conversation… Why did you date Sara?”
“Why are you making such a thing about it? She’s an attractive, wealthy woman. She made the rules very clear from the start. I knew where I stood. We made each other feel good for a time. It was fun. There isn’t much else to it.”
“Did your sisters know about her?”
He nearly chokes on the water he’s just sipped from his bottle. “Why on earth would I tell them that?”
“I’m guessing you didn’t because you knew they wouldn’t approve.”
“Of course they wouldn’t. I wouldn’t approve if roles were reversed, but it’s none of their business and same goes for me with them. We’re adults, Felicity. You’ve never done anything remotely controversial?”
I look away, forcing the heated feeling inside of me to settle. I can’t work myself out. There are butterflies flighting in my stomach at the thought of James sleeping with this woman. And not just any woman, but Sara, an older, highly successful woman at that. There’s also an ingrained sadness that James’ experience of Michael is so extremely different to mine.
“Your turn,” he says again.
I groan, taking another sip.
“And you need to make it better than mine. I want juicy gossip, Felicity.”
“Alright,” I say, accepting his challenge. “How’s this? I haven’t been with anyone in over two years. I’ve totally fallen off the horse. Sometimes I think the longer this goes on, the more impossible it will be to get back on.”
I’m looking ahead as I say it. A weird moment of silence occurs where I wonder if I took his challenge of providing juicier gossip too far and actually just stepped right into one of his manipulative traps. Warmth rises slowly up my neck. That’s when I feel the bottle move in my hands. James is carefully removing it from my grip. I give him a worried glance. Our eyes collide with fire as a small smirk rises on the side of his lips.
“At least now I know why you don’t get drunk at work dos.”
Oh, god. I throw my head back, crying out with laughter. He joins in too. It’s true. I don’t drink at work dos. Or if I do, it’s minimal. I don’t trust myself not to act like a prat or say something I’ll later regret. When I finally glance at him, he’s looking at me with a fresh curiosity. It’s like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to figure out.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t ever repeat it. I’m just in this phase of my life where I’m incredibly fussy. It’s strange because I finally like myself and actually only want to sleep with decent people. I feel like I deserve that. Quality over quantity, you know?”
Now I’m all hot again. Who knew I’d go from a shivering wreck to a boiling, sweaty mess so quickly. I’m sure the fire isn’t helping. Maybe I have a fever. Does it work that quickly?
Oh balls. It’s James. He’s making me all clammy and bothered with his messy hair and relaxed boy-next-door look. Like this, out here in the wilderness, he’s completely my type. And now he’s looking at me like it’s for the first time.
We’re quiet for a while, sipping our waters and eating another protein bar each. The flames are successfully keeping the midges at bay. And when the light has completely faded, James lets the fire die down a bit before we start to climb into the tent again.
“You know we can zip our sleeping bags together, right?”
I’m glad it’s dark when he says this because I can’t help the smile blooming on my lips. He wants to sleep with me. Me! If nothing else, that’s a compliment. Even if he does mean literal sleeping and nothing more.
“You don’t have to,” he adds when I don’t respond right away.
“Actually,” I say, pinching myself. I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. This morning I swore I’d never allow it to happen again. He’s just so warm. It’s like I have no control over the words that come out of my mouth. “I think that’s a good idea.”