‘Luke, save your breath. Wait until we’re . . .’
‘Under the trees,’ he whispered. ‘Yeah, I know.’
They staggered on. Luke was unable to catch his breath. Which made him cough. Which made excruciating pain shoot through his chest. Which made him unable to catch his breath. Which made him cough. Some days, he reflected, it’s just not worth getting out of bed.
‘What?’
He realised he must have said that aloud. Had he started to talk to himself? ‘I said . . . some days . . . it’s just not worth . . . getting out of bed.’
‘I’m inclined to agree,’ said Jane through gritted teeth, struggling up a slight incline. But there were trees over on their left. The wind was dropping.
It was, of course, very possible that any comparatively warm and sheltered spot would already be occupied by someone or something that would be very unwilling to give it up. Or even to share. But one problem at a time.
A little to their right a large conifer of some kind stretched its lower branches almost to the ground. Snow lay thickly upon it but there might possibly be some form of protection underneath. Less snow, certainly.
Carefully she lowered him to the ground. ‘I’ll go first. If anything tries to eat me . . .’
‘I’ll cough and shiver at them,’ he promised. ‘North is always telling us to play to our strengths.’
Being very careful not to dislodge any snow from the branches, Jane crawled underneath. Whether anything already occupied the small space between the branches and the ground she was unable to say and her hood made it impossible to hear if anything close by was breathing. Tiny tracks, bird and mammal, she guessed, criss-crossed the snow but there was no rank animal smell. And none of the big paw prints they’d seen at the body dump. She pushed on, eventually banging her head on the tree trunk. A little snow fell on her head.
No time to wait for her eyes to adjust. She turned to pull Luke inside with her. He crawled in behind her on his hands and knees. She could see that every movement hurt him.
‘That’s it. Nearly there. Just a little further. Well done, Luke. We’ve made it.’
‘Where are we?’
‘Under a tree. Does it hurt less if you sit down or lie down?’
‘Everything hurts all the time, Jane. I’ll sit.’ He awkwardly manoeuvred himself into position. ‘I’ll sit . . . against the . . . trunk. Like this. You . . . sit between . . . my legs.’
‘Oh God, Parrish. This is just some complicated plot to get me between your legs, isn’t it? Why can’t you just do flowers and dinner like normal men?’
‘I . . . am . . . Luke Parrish . . .’ he said with dignity. ‘I don’t operate like normal men.’
‘You got that right,’ she muttered, easing herself carefully into position.
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘Now lean back against me. No, it doesn’t hurt. Then I can put my arms around you. Then I can keep you warm and you can keep me warm. Perfect.’
She leaned back very gently. He slid his arms around her. ‘Can you pile the snow up around us a little? It’s insulation against the wind.’
Using her gloved hands, she piled the snow up around their legs. ‘How’s that?’
‘Perfect,’ he said, again. ‘We can last here for ages.’
She sighed and laid her head back against his shoulder and they sat in the strange half-light as the snow fell. The tree protected them from the worst of it. Only a few flakes filtered softly through the overhanging branches. The cold was biting, though. Half an hour, she thought. If that.
‘All right, Jane?’
‘Yes. I’m very warm, thank you.’
Even through all their layers he could feel her shivering, but shivering was good. When the shivering ceased – so would they.
‘Jane, I have to say something.’
‘I think you should conserve your strength.’
He took no notice. ‘I really screwed this up, Jane. All this is my fault. I’ve got everything wrong. Story of my life, really. If I’d handled Imogen better – not just at TPHQ, but if I’d worked a little harder on our relationship . . . if we’d parted on better terms. She must really hate me.’ His voice faltered for a moment. ‘It’s not a good feeling, Jane . . . to know someone hates you that much. And I don’t think I’d feel so bad if it was just me. Anyone could make a good case for saying I deserved it . . . but not you, Jane. You’re a good person. You deserve . . .’
‘Luke . . .’
He would not be stopped. ‘And then we had them. We had them at the King’s Arsenal. We had them again at Shoreditch. I got greedy. I wanted it all. I wanted to go back to TPHQ and fling it in their faces. Do you hate me?’
She smiled inside her hood. ‘Sweetie, everyone hates you. You’re the most irritating person on the planet.’
He coughed a laugh. ‘I can live with that if you don’t hate me.’
‘I don’t hate you. I am constantly battling the urge to slap you senseless, but no, I don’t hate you.’
‘No, you don’t understand, Jane.’ He stopped to catch his breath and then said quietly, ‘Not only is everything my fault, but it’s my dad’s fault as well.’
Now they were out of the wind, she rather thought she might be feeling warmer. In fact, she was quite comfortable. It would be nice to just close her eyes and go to sleep. ‘Mm? How’s that, then?’
‘You didn’t see it, did you?’
She said drowsily, ‘See what?’
He sharpened his voice. ‘Jane, wake up. This is important. This is something you have to know.’
She jolted awake. ‘Know what?’
‘The locker room? At the facility back there?’
‘Mm?’
The words were forced out of him. ‘My dad built it.’
The words ran around inside her head while she struggled to take in what he was saying. ‘What?’
‘Didn’t you see it? On the inside of the locker? And in the pod? The Parrish Industries logo?’
‘I don’t think I’d know it if I saw it.’
‘A diamond with a P inside.’
‘Oh . . . yes . . . saw that. Was that Parrish Industries?’
He felt suddenly very tired.
‘Yeah. And once I saw it – it was everywhere. Lockers, equipment, the lot. Parrish Industries built it all. Everything. And to think I was just coming around to the idea my dad might not be such a bastard after all. You know . . . after what Birgitte said . . . about that night . . . but obviously not. The Parrish family showing their true colours, eh, Jane?’