He was hunkered down very close to her, the breeze ruffling his hair. ‘You think I stole that money.’
‘I know you did. You confessed, didn’t you?’
‘Ivor made the phone call, Kit.’
‘He couldn’t have—I was with him at the time.’
‘You were in love with him.’
‘I wouldn’t have lied, Jud!’
‘You did lie.’ As she made a sudden move, he stayed her with one hand on the sleeve of her jacket. ‘You were young and vulnerable and very much in love...perhaps it was inevitable that you supported Ivor over me.’ A harsh edge to his voice, he added, ‘I just need to know the truth, that’s all.’
There was a scar across his knuckles, a scar white as bone. Staring down at it, because she could not bear the force of his gaze, Kathrin said, ‘How did you hurt yourself?’
‘In prison—I was on a labour gang for a while,’ he said impatiently. ‘Kit, the truth...surely this place deserves the truth.’
When she looked up, her eyes were deep, troubled pools of darkness. ‘I’ve told you the truth. Just as I told it at the trial.’
In total frustration Jud picked up a chunk of granite, banging it so hard against a boulder that chips flew; the noise seemed a violation of the unfathomable silence of the tundra. ‘I thought better of you than this,’ he said.
In a clumsy movement Kathrin scrambled to her feet. ‘You’re proving my point—this is just why I don’t want to talk about what happened,’ she cried. ‘What’s the use? It’s over and done with. Finished.’
He stood up as well, balancing his weight on the rocks. ‘I could have photographed muskoxen on lots of other islands in the Arctic. I came here because I saw your name on the roster of scientists at the camp...I always figured you’d end up somewhere like this.’
‘Then maybe you’d be better off going to one of the other islands,’ she said steadily.
‘I’m staying here.’ He paused, his eyes narrowed. ‘There’s something else I should tell you—some time in the next week or so, Ivor will be coming here, too.’
Kathrin’s heart gave a great lurch in her breast. ‘What did you say?’
His face as immobile as if it had been carved from stone, Jud repeated, ‘Ivor will be visiting the camp in the next few days—he pilots the company helicopter.’
‘No!’ She took two steps backwards over the uneven ground, all the horror of that last meeting with Ivor invading her as if the intervening years had never happened. ‘Not Ivor—not here.’
‘You’re still in love with him,’ Jud accused savagely. ‘For God’s sake, how can you be so blind?’
Scarcely hearing him, Kathrin whispered, ‘Tell me you’re joking, that this is some kind of cruel game. This isn’t a place Ivor would choose to be; he’s not like you and me—why would he come here?’
‘To make money—why else does Ivor go anywhere? Mining, Kit. Uranium and silver. That’s why Ivor’s coming here.’
Her heart was pounding as if she had run all the way from the camp. ‘I never want to see him again,’ she said raggedly.
‘Too bad. Garry told me you’ll be one of the people Ivor will be interviewing. The effect on muskoxen of overhead flights and survey crews,’ he finished mockingly.
Standing as he was on the rocks, Jud towered over her: a man hardened beyond belief. ‘You’re out for revenge, aren’t you?’ Kathrin faltered. ‘That’s what your game is—revenge.’
‘Truth. Not revenge. There’s a big difference. And—believe me—it’s no game.’
She had no answer for him, no reserves to draw upon. In her overwrought state the panorama that only minutes ago had been the harbinger of tranquillity now seemed bleak and inimical, no more home than, ultimately, Thorndean had been. Seeking refuge in action, she hauled on her backpack, turned her back on Jud and headed up the slope as fast as she could.
CHAPTER THREE
AN HOUR later Jud and Kathrin reached her tent, a brave yellow triangle on the hillside. Neither of them had spoken a word since they had stopped by the stream; while Kathrin had forced herself to an outward composure, her emotions were still in a turmoil. Ignoring Jud, she set up the viewing scope on its tripod and scanned the width of the valley. ‘No sign of them,’ she said finally. ‘That means at least another two hours to get beyond those cliffs. We’ll have to check the river valley as we go.’
‘I think we should eat here,’ Jud said.
‘Fine by me,’ she answered indifferently, fiddling with the knobs on the tripod.
‘Look at me, Kit.’
‘I hate it when you call me that name.’
‘It’s what I’ve always called you and I plan to continue.’ He went on in a level voice, ‘I had to tell you about Ivor—I didn’t want you meeting him the same way you did me.’
‘Oh, sure,’ she said sarcastically, ‘you’re the soul of kindness.’
He ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. ‘I’m damned if I’m going to spend the next four days trading insults with you! It’s a waste of time and this place asks better of us. Let’s for heaven’s sake call a truce.’
‘I don’t trust you,’ she blurted.
Jud flinched. But his recovery was so quick that Kathrin was left to wonder if she had imagined the pain that had so fleetingly tightened his features. He said irritably, ‘Then let’s bring it down to its lowest level. We’re the only people within ten miles of each other—surely we can at least have a little civilised conversation as we eat.’
It seemed a sensible request. Not that she felt sensible. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said.
‘Good. If you want to take down your tent, I’ll get supper.’
Anything that kept them busy with separate tasks was fine with Kathrin. She cleaned the dirt from the tent pegs, slid the poles together, and folded everything into a neat bundle, which she stowed on top of her backpack. Then, once again, knowing how easily a lone animal could be missed, she traversed the valley with her scope.
Supper was Pam’s beef stew with home-made bread, and was eaten largely in silence, for Jud, despite his request for civilised conversation, had withdrawn into himself. Seated on a boulder, Kathrin scrubbed her plate clean with a piece of bread. ‘I wonder why food tastes so good out here?’ she ventured.
For a moment she thought Jud hadn’t heard her; he was gazing across the valley, and in profile looked more like the boy she had grown up with than the stranger he had become. Then he said, so quietly that she had to strain for the words, ‘Perhaps because there’s room to breathe.’
In swift compassion she said, ‘How did you ever survive being in prison, Jud? Five days in a classroom used to be more than you could take.’
‘I went so deep inside myself that nothing and no one could touch me. I’d have gone mad otherwise.’
He had spoken without emphasis, in a way that was completely convincing. She remembered the slow seep of blood through his blue shirt all those years ago and the stoicism with which he had borne her awkward ministrations, and wanted to weep. It was on the tip of her tongue to cry, ‘Why did you do it?’, for this was the one question whose