Henry was the tidy up in the morning kind of person. Erica preferred to get it all packed in the dishwasher straight after dinner. It was a five-minute job that saved the kitchen reeking of stir-fry and cooked meats at breakfast. Erica was normally the one to tidy up. Even the times when she’d been out at a work dinner, or been stuck in the office and had to grab the last congealed egg and cress sandwich from the vending machine, she still found herself tidying up the kitchen when she got home.
They were different in other ways too. In every way, she thought. It boiled down to their personality types. Henry was laid-back, happy to go with the flow, and Erica wasn’t. Erica needed to know what was coming around the corner and prepare.
When they’d first started dating, they’d laughed at the other one’s quirks, and their own. After their relationship had turned serious, Erica had found solace in Henry’s laid-back attitude to life. When she’d arrived back from work, exhausted, stressed, and having not seen daylight since the weekend, it was Henry who helped her relax and laugh again.
It wasn’t like that any more. Their differences were no longer funny, or cute, but infuriating. She knew Henry hated her need to clean something the moment she saw it. He hated the long hours she spent at work too, just as she hated how everything – the bills, the insurance, tax, even the TV licence – fell to her to sort out.
‘It’s Saturday, Erica,’ he’d hissed at her last month. ‘Is it too much to ask that you switch off for the day and be a human fucking being? Is it too much to ask that you actually spend time with us? With Isla? You haven’t seen her since Sunday last week. Do you realize that?’
Of course she’d realized that. What kind of monster did he think she was? ‘I saw her at breakfast,’ she’d snapped back as guilt had welled inside her body. ‘Our home insurance is up for renewal. I’m trying to get us a better deal that could save us hundreds of pounds.’
He’d slammed the door to the study shut but not before she’d heard his final comment. ‘Some things are more important.’
Henry was right of course. She could’ve waited until the evening to compare insurance quotes, but the reminder had pinged up on her phone and the desire to complete the job had been too overwhelming to ignore. Even with Henry pissed at her, and the guilt of knowing she should be spending time with Isla, Erica couldn’t bring herself to stop.
It was the same now. The same feeling. The same guilt. She should never have signed up, never have convinced Molly to come with her, never should’ve lied to Henry or Molly. But she couldn’t stop herself.
The thought of her life unravelling tightened her chest just as much as the thought of continuing with her double life. It had to stop. She had to stop. There had to be a way out without hurting everyone she loved. Erica just needed a plan. This trip was her chance to get some distance from Henry, and the lies. She’d have plenty of time to find a solution. Wouldn’t she?
Molly
‘Well this is luxurious isn’t it?’ Rachel said as she patted the thin mattress on the top bunk. The wooden hut was a small square room with two sets of bunk beds and an out of use metal heating furnace that was doing nothing to take the edge off the biting cold night air. On closer inspection, the furnace had a thick layer of dust covering its body and didn’t appear to have been used recently, or ever, as far as Molly could see.
‘It’s actually pretty comfortable,’ her boyfriend said, lying down on the bottom bunk below Rachel.
‘I think if you wanted luxury you may have come on the wrong trip,’ Erica said with a smile. ‘I bet by the end, this hut will feel pretty luxurious.’
‘At least we haven’t got twin-dle-dumb and twin-dle-dumber in our group.’ Rachel laughed to herself and glanced at the others.
The anger that had been simmering under the surface of Molly’s skin since the airport exploded to the top. ‘Oi.’ The shout left her lips and was bouncing around the hut before she could stop it. Molly threw her rucksack onto the top bunk of the bed opposite Rachel and felt the rage run free through her body. The rucksack landed with a thud, the only noise in the stunned silence of the cabin.
Molly spun around and glared at Rachel. She was one of those petite types, with a self-confidence that wafted in the air like sickly perfume. Molly could see it in the tilt of Rachel’s perfect button nose and the swish of glossy cropped air. Rachel thought she was better than Molly, better than everyone.
Molly balled her hands into two tight fists, clenched so tight her fingers dug painfully into the palms of her hands. She forced the screaming anger down before she spoke so that her voice was little more than a hissed whisper. ‘Harry and Frankie climbed Mount Kenya last year, and trekked to Everest base camp the year before that. I’d much rather have them on my team than any of you.’
Another moment of silence passed over them all. Molly could feel Erica’s presence behind her, hovering like a bodyguard, or a referee, who at any moment would step in and put a stop to the exchange. Molly resisted the urge to tell her to shove her backup up her own arse.
‘Sor-rey.’ Rachel raised her eyebrows. ‘I didn’t realize they were your friends.’
Rachel pulled out a red polka dot wash kit from her bag and sauntered to the small washroom.
‘They’re not,’ Molly muttered under her breath as the door to the washroom slammed shut.
‘You OK, Mol?’ Erica asked, her voice heavy with a concern that made the acid inside Molly’s body hiss and bubble. A sharp pain stretched horizontally across the space behind Molly’s lower ribs. What right did Erica have to be concerned about her?
‘Fine,’ she replied. ‘I just don’t like bitches.’ She raised her voice at the last word, hoping it would carry through the door and to Rachel’s ears.
The boyfriend – Noah – sat up from the bottom bunk and swung his legs around to sitting. A second later his head hit the wood of the top bunk with a clonk. He rubbed at a spot on his forehead as he spoke. ‘Hey, Sheffield right?’ he said.
‘So?’ Molly shrugged.
‘I thought I recognized your accent. Me too. I mean, I live down south now but I grew up in Sheffield. My family still live there. I’ve been thinking of moving back actually.’ All of a sudden Molly caught the deep inflections of the South Yorkshire accent.
‘Whereabouts?’ Noah asked. ‘I thought there was something familiar about you. I wonder if we’ve met before.’
Is that why you bogged at me in the airport then? ‘Walkley,’ she muttered.
‘Hey, that’s only twenty minutes from me. I’m Dore.’
Figures, Molly thought, taking in the styled blond hair and light tan. His eyes were small but an intense dark blue. He had the peppy posh boy look down to a tee. Another ‘I’m better than everyone else’ type.
She shrugged again, before clambering onto the top bunk and digging in her bag for her iPod Shuffle. There was something unnerving about Noah. The way he’d looked at her in the airport, and again in the tent when they’d picked up their sleeping bags and clothes. On both occasions the intensity of his stare had caused a shiver to race down her spine. It was as if he was looking straight into the lava of anger that flowed like blood through her body. How did he do that? What was he staring at?
The sound of a tap running from the bathroom filled the silence.
‘Rachel was just blowing off steam.’