Page 42 of Rock Paper Scissors
It was a long and steep climb to the top of this hill, both of us are unsuitably dressed for the hikeandthe weather, and it seems it was all for nothing. Neither of us has a signal on our phones, even up here. There’s no sign of Bob or any way of calling for help. I can see the chapel in the distance down below, and it looks so much smaller than before. Less threatening. The sky, on the other hand, has darkened since we left. The clouds seem determined to block out the sun, and Amelia is shivering. It was okay when we were on the move, but I feel the cold too since we stopped, and I know we shouldn’t stand still for long.
When you reach the top of a hill, you can often look back and see the whole path you took to make the journey. But while you’re on the path, it’s sometimes impossible to see where you are going or where you have been. It feels like a metaphor for life, and I’d be tempted to write the thought down if I wasn’t so damn cold. I take one final look around, but other than the chapel and the cottage, there really is nothing to see except a snow-covered landscape for miles in all directions.
“I guess we really are in the middle of nowhere,” I say.
“I’m freezing,” she replies through chattering teeth. “Poor Bob.”
I take off my jacket and wrap it around her. “Come on, let’s go. We’ll light the fire when we get back, get warm, and come up with another plan. It will be easier going down.”
I’m wrong about that.
The ground seems even more slippery now than it did on the way up, and a combination of snow and ice makes our progress slow. The muddy sky turns a darker shade of gray, and although we both do a good job of pretending not to notice the first few drops of sleet, seconds later it is impossible to ignore. Our clothes arenot designed to withstand extreme winter weather, and neither are we. The wind blows the sleet at us from all directions, and within minutes we are both soaked to the skin. Even I’m shivering now.
Just when I think things can’t get any worse—weatherwise—the sleet turns to hail, raining down from the sky like bullets. I predict we will both be covered in bruises when we get back.Ifwe get back. Whenever I dare to look up, risking a face full of tiny ice pellets, I notice that we don’t seem to be getting any farther down the hill. The chapel still looks tiny and very far away.
The pelting from above eases off, and the hail turns into snow.
“Let’s try and make a bit more progress while we can,” I say, reaching out to help Amelia down from one part of the rocky path to another. But she doesn’t take my hand.
“I can see someone,” she says, staring into the distance.
I shield my eyes, scan the valley below, but see nothing. “Where?”
“Going into the chapel,” Amelia whispers, as though they might hear her from what must still be over a mile away.
Sure enough, I spot the shape of a person walking up the chapel steps.
I feel for the giant key I locked the old wooden doors with before we left, and start to relax when I find it in my pocket. But my brief sense of comfort evaporates as I watch the shadowy figure open the doors and disappear inside. I’m sure I must have imagined it—though it’s hard to be certain of anything from this distance—but it looked like they might have been wearing a red kimono. Just like the one my mother used to wear when she invited… friends to stay. I try to Control-Alt-Delete the thought, as always, but the keys in my mind get stuck. I might have imagined what they were wearing, but someonedidjust go into the chapel. Even if I ran down the hill, and managed not to slip on the ice or fall in the snow, I guess it would take at least twenty minutes to get back down there and confront whoever just let themselves in.
“Tell me how we ended up staying at this place again,” I say, in a shaky voice that sounds like a poor imitation of my own.
“I already told you. I won the weekend away in the staff Christmas raffle.”
“And you found out when you received an email?”
“Yes.”
“And the email was from…?”
“The housekeeper. I told you already.”
“Did anyone else you know at work win something similar?”
“Nina got a box of Quality Street chocolates, but she bought twenty raffle tickets so was bound to win something.”
“How many raffle tickets did you buy?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
“Only one.”
ROBIN
It doesn’t take Robin long to walk from the cottage to the chapel.
Oscar looked very sorry for himself when she left him behind, his big white floppy ears seemed to droop even more than normal. Robin was in desperate need of some comfort and company when she first arrived in Blackwater, and Oscar seemed like a good name for the companion she found. Robin had always been rather fond of those solid bronze statues the film industry gave out once a year.Heronly Oscar might be a rabbit, but she loves him.
She spotted the visitors at the viewpoint on top of the hill in the distance, and knew she had at least half an hour to do everything she needed to do. They couldn’t get back in time to stop her even if they tried. Unlike them, she has proper winter weather gear. Even if her borrowed boots are too big, they’re still better than trendy trainers for trekking across snow-covered hills and fields.
She stops outside the chapel briefly before going in, taking a moment to stare up at the stained-glass windows and the small, white bell tower perched on top of the building. With the loch and mountains in the background, it’s like looking at a painting. She realizes that she has been here too long in more ways than one; a person canbecome immune to beauty when exposed to it too often. As Robin lets herself inside, so does the wind, blowing a cloud of dust motes masquerading as snow into the air. It amuses her that the visitors think she is the housekeeper. That isn’t why she has a key.
