tranquility!” a hysterical Mrs Bloomwood was reported as shouting. “My daughter’s missing!”
STORMS
Meanwhile, storms have prevented Mrs Brandon’s husband, Luke Brandon, from leaving Cyprus, where he has been working. He was said yesterday to be “desperately worried” and in close contact with police. His business associate, Nathan Temple, has issued a reward for information leading to the recovery of Mrs Brandon. He commented yesterday, “If anyone harms a hair of that young lady’s head I will personally break all their bones. Twice.” Mr Temple was convicted in 1984 for grievous bodily harm.
Twenty-two
OW.
Ouuuch.
God, my head is in agony. Oww. And my ankle’s throbbing, and I feel like I might be sick any moment, and something sharp is pressing into my shoulder… Where am I, anyway? Why do I feel so weird?
With a huge struggle I manage to open my eyes and get a flash of blue before they close again. Hmm. Blue. Makes no sense. Maybe I’ll go to sleep.
“Becky? Beckeee!” A voice is calling me from a huge distance. “Wake up!”
I force my eyes open again and find myself looking at a face. A blurred face against a blue background.
Jess.
Blimey, it’s Jess. And she’s all anxious-looking. Maybe she lost something. A rock. That must be it.
“Can you see me?” she says urgently. “Can you count my fingers?”
She thrusts her hand in front of me and I peer at it woozily. Boy, that girl needs a manicure.
“How many fingers?” she keeps saying. “Can you see? Can you hear me?”
Oh, right. Yes.
“Er… three?”
Jess stares at me for a moment, then sinks back on her knees and buries her head in her hands. “Thank God. Thank God.”
She’s shaking. Why on earth is she shaking?
And then, like a tidal wave, it all comes back to me. The walk. The storm. Falling. Crashing down the mountainside. Quickly I try to block it out of my mind, but to my astonishment, tears start to seep out the sides of my eyes and drip down into my ears.
OK. Stop it. I’m safe now. I’m on the ground. I… think. To be honest, I can’t quite work out where I am. I peer at the bright blue background, but it still makes zero sense. I’d say heaven — except Jess didn’t fall too, did she?
“Where am I?” I manage, and Jess raises her head. She still looks white and shaken.
“My tent,” she says. “I always carry a tent in my backpack. I didn’t dare move you, so I put it up around you.”
A tent! Now, that is just so clever. Why don’t I take a tent everywhere? I’ll start tomorrow. Yes. A little tiny tent that I could keep in my handbag.
The only thing is, it’s a bit uncomfortable here on the ground. Maybe I’ll get up and stretch my legs. I try to rise, and everything goes black and swirly.
“Oh God,” I say feebly, and sink back down again.
“Don’t try to get up!” Jess says in alarm. “You had a terrible fall. I thought…” She breaks off and exhales sharply. “Anyway, don’t get up.”
Gradually I’m becoming aware of the rest of my body. My hands are all raw and scraped. With a huge effort I raise my head and glimpse my legs, all bloody with cuts. I can feel a bruise on my cheek, and I lift my hand to it.
“Ow! Is my face bleeding?”
“You’re a mess,” Jess says bluntly. “Does anything hurt really badly?”
“My ankle. The left one. It’s agony.”
Jess starts prodding it and I bite my lip, trying not to cry out.
“I think it’s sprained,” she says at last. “I’ll strap you up.” She switches on a torch and fastens it to a steel pole, then reaches into a tiny tin. She produces a length of bandage-type stuff and starts winding it expertly round my ankle. “Becky, what the hell were you doing up there, anyway?”
“I… I came to find you.” Bits of the jigsaw are reappearing in my brain. “I was doing the sponsored endurance hike.”
Jess looks gobsmacked.
“But this wasn’t the hike route! I went off the trail. The hike route was much lower. Didn’t you follow the markers?”
“Markers?” I look at her blankly.
“God, you have no bloody idea about hiking, do you?” she says in agitation. “You shouldn’t have been up there! It’s dangerous!”
“So why were you there?” I retort, wincing as she bandages me more and more tightly. “What you were doing looked pretty dangerous to me.”
Jess’s face closes up.
Eventually she says, “Last time I climbed the Pike I saw some ammonite specimens. I wanted to collect one. It’s a bit foolhardy, but I don’t expect you to understand—”
“No! I do understand!” I interrupt, and struggle onto my elbows. I have to tell her.
“Jess, I understand. I’ve seen your rocks. They’re fantastic. They’re beautiful.”
“Lie down,” she says, looking worried. “Take it easy.”
“I don’t want to take it easy! Jess, listen. We’re sisters. We’re honestly and truly sisters. That’s why I came up the mountain. I had to tell you.”
Jess frowns. “Becky, you’ve had a bump on the head… you’ve probably got a concussion—”
“It’s not that!” The louder my voice rises the more my head throbs, but I can’t stop myself. “I know we have the same blood. I know it! I went to your house.”
“You what?” Jess looks appalled. “Who let you in?”
“Jim. I saw your rock cupboard. It’s identical to my shoe cupboard in London. Identical. The lights… the shelves… everything!”
For the first time ever, I see Jess’s composure slip a little.
“So what?” she says in brusque tones.
“So we’re the same!” I sit up eagerly, ignoring the swirling in front of my eyes. “Jess, you know the way you feel about a really amazing rock? That’s the way I feel about a great pair of shoes! Or a dress. I have to have it. Nothing else matters. And I know you feel the same way about your rock collection.”
“I don’t,” she says, turning away.
“You do! I know you do!” I clutch her arm. “You’re just as obsessed as me! You just hide it better! Oh God, my head. Ow.”
I collapse back down, my head pounding.
“I’ll get you a painkiller,” Jess says distractedly — but she doesn’t move. She’s just standing there, lost in her own thoughts.
I can see I’ve got to her.
“You came up a mountain in a storm just to tell me this?” Jess says at last.
“Yes! Of course!”
She turns her head to look at me. Her face is paler than ever and kind of wary, as though someone’s trying to trick her.
