Working Wonders (36 page)

‘Yes, you think that,’ said Sven, getting stuck in.

Rabbit cooked in soup, followed by Maltesers, washed down by water that tasted suspiciously of sheep dip wouldn’t have been Arthur’s usual top choice, but he was surprised how wonderful things tasted when you were starving hungry. As the others rolled away towards the tents – and fell asleep instantly, he could tell, completely worn out by the fresh air and the exercise – he stayed by the fire, looking into the embers and letting his thoughts drift – to tomorrow, to Gwyneth, to what would happen after this was over; to finally, and almost for the first time, thinking what it might be like to win this competition. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed in his reverie or whether he had even come out of it when, with a complete lack of surprise, he glanced up to find Lynne sitting beside him.

‘Hello!’ he said cheerfully.

‘Ssh! The others are asleep.’

‘Oh yes, and I’m not. Right. Uh huh. Yeah.’

He looked at her. She appeared to be wearing some kind of pheasant on her head, and was wrapped in several layers of tweed.

‘It’s so good to see you. Where have you been?’

‘Oh, here and there, tossed on the wind. Well, actually, I had a spot of twin trouble. Nothing to worry about.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Both dead of course. Mad as eggs.’

Arthur didn’t quite know what to say to this, so he turned back to stare into the fire.

Lynne looked at him, noting that he looked tired around the eyes and somehow … different to when she had seen him last. Firmer, somehow. There was a set to his jaw that hadn’t been there before. She sensed determination.

‘How goes it?’ she asked him gently.

‘It’s crazy,’ said Arthur. ‘Is that why you’re here? To ask how things are going on this ridiculous exercise?’ He plucked at the grass beside him.

‘No.’

‘I didn’t think so.’

She turned to him. ‘Arthur.’

His face when he turned towards her was stricken.

‘I’m here to warn you. Tomorrow is going to be … difficult, beyond, I think, your imagining.’

He stood up. ‘I thought it might be something like that. You’re always asking me to do things …’

‘Yes, well, that’s part of the – what is it I’m meant to be again?’

‘A psychotherapist.’

‘Yes, that. Come, walk with me a while.’

They strode away from the fire, to the edge of the cliff, and wandered along it.

‘Have you … come to help me?’ said Arthur, realizing as he spoke that he sounded weak.

Lynne shook her head. ‘No. But to prepare you a little.’

‘What do you know?’ said Arthur. ‘Been sneaking into the plans? No, no, destiny, blah blah, yes. You said.’

‘You’re being very touchy.’

‘Well, you just turned up to tell me that something horrible’s about to happen.’

‘Oh yes. Sorry!’

They looked out at the stars.

‘You are going to have to make a choice tomorrow.’

Arthur hardly dared to breathe in case he missed anything.

‘It will be very important. Very.’

‘Okay. What do I do?’

Lynne looked at him.

‘You’re not going to tell me, are you?’

‘Destiny’s rubbish like that.’

‘Well, how am I going to know?’

She put her hand on his arm, and he realized it was the first time they had ever touched.

‘You just have to be aware. And be ready. It’s very important.’

‘This isn’t going to be between the continental and the cooked breakfast, is it?’

She shook her head and looked at him sadly.

‘Okay,’ said Arthur.

‘You’re doing well,’ she said.

‘Do you really think so?’ said Arthur, moving back to the heat of the fire. But of course, when he turned around, she’d gone.

Sven wasn’t usually an early riser. In fact, before Sven had been allowed to bring him into work, Sandwiches had been a bit of a latchkey dog. This morning, however, Sven found himself squashed up against the door of the tent the men were sharing just before the sun came over the horizon. He got up to relieve himself and, in the early morning chill, was pleasantly surprised by the beauty of the surroundings. Sandwiches came bounding up joyfully – Arthur had thrown him out of the tent four times for threatening to asphyxiate the company – and man and dog walked on a little. The sky had cleared and was turning a watery blue. Sven thought it might be the first day of the year they could see the sun.

From where the tents were pitched on the side of the cliff, the vista was breathtaking. The next hill – from where they’d crossed on the wire – rose on his left, crumbling away to chalk in steps that had been cut away from the side. Down in the valley, so far it could hardly be seen, was the river they had crossed. At this distance it looked like a calm silver thread, not the torrent he remembered. Then he turned round and for the first time saw what was above him. He gasped. Perched several hundred feet higher up was a small ruined castle that had obviously been invisible from below the cliff the night before. It had no roof and ivy climbed in and out of the empty windows. Sven stared at it for a long time, rubbing his sore muscles from yesterday. In his mind, he knew that was where they would be going today. For a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, it gave him a terrible sense of foreboding – well, it was a spooky ruined castle, he supposed.

He scratched Sandwiches affectionately and decided to head back to find a can of dog food. All of a sudden he heard his name being called.

‘Sven! Sven!!!’

He looked around to find the source of the noise. It was coming from just under the lip of the hill. As he moved towards it, Gwyneth’s blonde head popped over the ridge.

‘Sven!’

‘Fuck a duck!’ said Sven. Gwyneth, normally so immaculate, was absolutely filthy. Her jeans were torn and dirty, her fleece and puffa jacket in a terrible state. She sounded perky, though. Behind her was Rafe. He too was dirty, and had big dark shadows underneath his eyes and a slightly haunted expression on his face.

‘Where did you two just spring from?’

Rafe and Gwyneth glanced at each other, just for a split second, as Arthur came out of the tent to see what all the commotion was about. His hair was sticking up all round his head, and he was yawning hugely. Despite the uncomfortable ground and awkward proximity of the other men, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so deeply.

‘Fuck a duck!’ he said. ‘What are you two doing here?’ He paused. ‘Did Sven just say that?’

Over tea – blessed tea, which Rafe had brought with him – they haltingly explained a little – not all – of what had happened.

‘I’m
so
glad you’re here!’ said Cathy, beaming.

‘Thanks, Cathy,’ said Gwyneth. She’d never particularly gone out of her way to be nice to the woman, and was touched by the show of support.

‘I won’t have to do today now, will I Arthur?’ Cathy went on.

‘Well, no, I guess you won’t,’ he said, blinking in surprise. They were even more surprised however, when, seconds later, the black balloon appeared over the lip of the hill, behind the castle.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Gwyneth, ‘That thing’s weird.’

They watched it as it came towards them, like something from
The Prisoner
. As it drifted, fifty feet or so over the campsite, a ladder was thrown over the side and a small figure hopped onto it. With complete agility, it romped down the steps, swaying wildly in the wind. As it grew closer, Arthur realized it was the sergeant. The rope ran out about eight or nine feet above the ground, and he jumped down like a cat. The ladder disappeared almost immediately and the balloon headed towards the next peak and was soon out of view.

‘Morning,’ said the sergeant cursorily, standing in front of their fire.

Gwyneth glanced at Rafe as the balloon came in. His face was stricken.

‘I can’t believe … I feel awful,’ he said, looking at Arthur, who had gone over to talk to the sergeant.

‘You nearly drowned,’ said Gwyneth. She had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, and tried to cover it up by being terse.

‘He’s my friend,’ said Rafe, looking wounded. Gwyneth gave his hand a quick squeeze.

‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know.’

The sergeant looked around at them. ‘Busy day today,’ he said. ‘Can’t believe you all made it in one piece.’

Cathy smiled broadly.

He glanced at the new arrivals.

‘But it’s still looking a bit
too
busy round here.’

Gwyneth cleared her throat. ‘Um … hello … nice to meet you …’

The sergeant completely ignored her and turned back to Arthur. ‘There’s too many people in your team. I can’t allow it.’

‘No,’ said Arthur. ‘Well, Cathy here has volunteered to withdraw.’

‘Uh huh. Who’s going to accompany her down the mountain?’

Cathy looked like she was about to say she was fine, then remembered how much she hated mountains and decided to keep her mouth shut. The rest of the team looked at each other, then, as one, at Marcus.

‘What? Don’t look at me? Am I the only one having a good time?’ said Marcus.

‘Yes,’ said Sven.

‘You’ll need me and my analytical brain! Won’t you, Arthur?’

‘Well …’ said Arthur. ‘I thought you’d be glad to be finished.’

‘No, I wouldn’t.’

They stood silently.

‘Let me take her,’ said Rafe suddenly.

‘But we’ve just got here!’ said Gwyneth.

‘I had a really tough day yesterday.’

‘You can’t go,’ said Arthur. ‘I need you. This is going to be the hardest day.’

Rafe and Arthur looked each other in the eye.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Rafe.

‘Don’t go, then,’ said Arthur. ‘Sven’ll take her.’

‘No, I mean, I can’t …’

He plucked nervously at his neck suddenly.

‘What’s that?’ said Arthur. He peered closer. Round his neck, Rafe was wearing the white scarf Gwyneth had given the white knight at Christmas time.

‘Is that Gwyneth’s scarf?’ he said, starting forward.

‘No,’ said Gwyneth.

‘Yes,’ said Rafe, staring at the ground.

‘It was a joke,’ said Gwyneth.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Rafe again.

Arthur looked at them both solidly for a long moment. Gwyneth, suddenly, felt the full force of his love; understood exactly what he felt for her simply by the look on his face. It had been real. He hadn’t been able to tell her – well, he was a man. But it had been there, and it had been real, and she had thrown it all away. Inside she turned to ice, and realized, too late, how much she wanted him.

Inside, Arthur was crumpling in despair. All his hopes and … All he could do was curse himself for being too late; for hesitating, for holding back, for never having the courage to go for what he wanted. This wasn’t how a king would have behaved. He hated himself.

He looked at Rafe, who was clearly in agony, too.

‘Maybe you should go,’ he said finally, swallowing hard. Rafe’s normally mobile face was a picture of misery.

‘I wanted to be there for you, Arthur.’

‘I rather think you already have been,’ said Arthur, forcing a tight little smile. He turned to Gwyneth. ‘Maybe you should go, too.’

‘No,’ she choked. ‘No!’

‘Why not?’

They were both finding it difficult to speak. She pulled her eyes away first. ‘For the team,’ she said simply.

Arthur merely nodded and turned away. The pain sliced through him like a sword.

‘As you wish.’

‘Come
on
,’ said the sergeant. ‘Move it along! Move it! Move it!’

After Cathy and Rafe had packed up their things – Cathy, oblivious to the atmosphere, was rabbiting away about how she thought she’d almost lost her fear of heights – they began to trudge down the hill, Rafe shepherding her down carefully. Gwyneth was unable to stop herself glancing at him as he went; Arthur was unable to miss her doing this or to hide the sadness in his eyes.

The sergeant unpacked his rucksack and spread its contents on the ground in front of them. There were four paint guns. These were attached to odd-looking canisters designed to go on your back, filled with what looked like bath spheres. The equipment was terribly splattered with red and yellow paint. There were also four pairs of red armbands, four capes in camouflage colours, one camouflaged handkerchief, which Sandwiches correctly surmised was for him, and four pairs of goggles.

‘The enemy …’ he began, clearly trying to put a threatening spin on things. This was completely unnecessary – none of them had any doubt that Ross and his cronies were very much their enemies. ‘… the enemy is on the far side of the hill. They are well fed and well rested.’

‘Bet they’re not,’ said Sven. ‘Bet Ross was crying.’

‘
Quiet
, soldier.’