the movement had loosened her memories, thoughts of Carl Jeffery invaded.
Six years ago
‘I’m taking off,’ Bronwyn said.
Isla smiled and turned from where she’d just snapped a photo of a kookaburra perched high in a tree near the hostel.
‘Now?’ she said, greeted by her friend’s freckled face beaming at her from under a cap, the midday sun burning down on her from a clear blue sky. Bronwyn was wearing denim shorts and a T-shirt with the peace sign that matched the small tattoo on her arm, and her thin but sturdy legs led down to battered walking boots.
‘Aha.’ Bronwyn hitched up her backpack, which was almost as big as she was. ‘Got that wanderlust feeling again. Need to carry on.’
‘I’ll miss you, Bron,’ Isla said, a pang of sadness rising. This was what she hated about travelling. You got so close to people, and then they’d leave, morphing into a profile picture on Facebook or MySpace. Or, if you were lucky, you’d receive a text every so often. Despite only knowing Bronwyn for a short while, Isla would miss her. In fact, home had crept into her thoughts more than ever lately. After Canada she would head back to the UK. ‘So what’s your plan?’
‘I’ll probably hitch into Sydney,’ Bronwyn said, grabbing a bottle of water from the side of her backpack, and taking a gulp. ‘Then get a flight to New Zealand.’
‘You’ll love it there,’ Isla said, memories of her own visit fresh in her mind. ‘North or South?’
‘Both, I hope. I’m desperate to see where they filmed Lord of the Rings.’
Isla pulled her into a hug. ‘We’ve had some laughs, haven’t we?’
‘Sure have. I’ll never forget being chased by those kangaroos, or that bloody great spider in the loo.’
Isla laughed. ‘So, have you told Carl?’ They’d been seeing each other for around six weeks, although It’s only a bit of fun was still Bronwyn’s stock phrase.
‘Yep, told him a couple of days ago.’
‘Was he OK with it? He’s pretty besotted.’
‘To be honest, he acted a bit weird at first. But I told it like it is. Said he was a being an eejit, and it was never meant to be anything serious. He has to be cool with it.’
‘He’ll be fine.’ Isla took her friend’s hand. ‘Don’t forget me, will you?’
‘Of course I won’t.’ Bronwyn squeezed Isla’s hand, and looked back at the hostel, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the two-storey, red-brick building. ‘Do you like it here?’ she said, screwing up her nose.
‘Pretty much, yeah.’ But Isla had picked up on Bronwyn’s unease. ‘Why?’
‘Oh, nothing – my imagination probably – it’s nothing. Ignore me.’
‘Oh God, you can’t say that and leave me hanging.’ She wasn’t one for worrying, but if there was something about the place, she needed to know, and move on.
Bronwyn met Isla’s eye. ‘It’s just I’m sure someone knocked on my window last night.’ She shrugged and took a deep breath.
‘And?’
‘Nothing. That’s it really. Ignore me.’
‘Did you look out?’
‘Yeah, yeah I did.’ She studied her feet, scuffing her trainers on the dry earth.
‘And?’
She looked up and squinted into the sun, before arching her palm over her dark eyes. ‘I got a bit freaked,’ she said. ‘Might have been my imagination, but I’m pretty sure someone was out there. Watching me.’
Now
Isla’s phone rang, jolting her back to the moment. She rummaged in her bag for it, and saw Roxanne’s picture on the screen.
‘Hi, you,’ she said brightly into the phone.
‘Hey, Isla, I can’t believe you’ve been back since Tuesday, and we haven’t had a catch-up.’
‘I know,’ Isla said, pleased to hear her friend’s voice. She’d missed her. ‘It’s been far too long.’
‘So how was Canada? I saw your fab pics on Facebook.’
‘Truly amazing,’ she said, as a surge of emotion at how wonderful it had been came and went.
‘Cool. I so want to hear all about it. You free tonight? We could try the new tapas bar.’
‘I can’t, sorry. I’m on my way to a uni reunion, would you believe?’
There was silence on the other end. A kind of ‘why wasn’t I invited?’ silence.
‘I didn’t organise it, Roxanne,’ Isla said, guilt rising. ‘If I had I would have invited you.’
‘Yeah, ’course. No worries. I wouldn’t have gone anyway.’ A pause. ‘So where you heading?’
‘Spoon’s in Cambridge,’ Isla said, sensing the chill on the other end of the line.
‘Who’s going?’
‘Veronica Beesley.’
‘Good God, Verony Beeswax.’ Roxanne laughed, and the tension between them lifted. ‘That girl was so up herself, I’m surprised she could walk properly. I bet she’s a millionaire or something.’
Isla laughed. ‘Well, she owns her own company.’
‘There you go. It doesn’t surprise me. Remember when she slept with Mr Jenkins?’
‘Broke up his marriage.’
‘Yeah, and he wasn’t the only lecturer she shagged.’ Another pause. ‘Who else is going?’
‘Umm . . . Sara Pembroke.’
‘Know the name. Can’t bring her to mind.’
‘I don’t remember her that well either. She was really quiet, head in a book all the time. Nice enough, I think. Oh, and Ben Martin’s going.’
‘Ooh, nice. Now you’re talking.’
Isla sucked in a breath. Roxanne would think she was crazy. ‘And Trevor Cooper,’ she said, as though she’d lit a touchpaper and was about to witness an explosion.
‘What the . . . ? Turn back now! Save yourself! Why would you go near him after Trevor-gate?’
Isla laughed. Her friend was a strong character, tough at times, which Roxanne had always claimed was down to her no-nonsense father. At university, Roxanne had a reputation for being a bit badass, modelling herself on Scary Spice for a while, calling Isla Baby Spice, although Isla was far from a baby. Roxanne had toned it down over the years, honed her personality, and focused her abundance of energy on trying to save the world.
‘Are you in your right mind, Isla?’ she said, the comedy gone from her voice.
‘Roxanne, I saw Trevor back in July, and he was perfectly pleasant.’
‘Perfectly pleasant, aye? Well it’s your funeral,’ she said, and Isla shivered.
‘So what have you been up to while I’ve been away?’ Isla asked.
‘Work’s busy, busy, busy, and I’m volunteering at an animal shelter on Sundays.’
‘Aw, that’s lovely.’
‘I know. The dogs are so cute. I want to take them all home.’
‘Hey, what about the cats?’
‘Them too.’ Roxanne paused. ‘So are you free Tuesday?’
‘Definitely.