He ignores her. He’s looking at Brenda. ‘Listen to me,’ he says, keeping his voice low. ‘I’m going to do something now. It’s all I can think of. I’ll be quick, and then it will be over. Can you stay still there for me? You’re doing a great job.’
Brenda nods. Her face is wet with tears.
‘OK then,’ James says.
He takes a slow, careful step, gently nudging Amelia out of the way. He keeps his eyes locked on Brenda the whole time.
‘It’s OK,’ he says, inching forward again.
The snake is still staring at them, and Amelia looks away – a memory of a childhood movie; a snake’s hypnotic gaze.
James takes one more step towards Brenda, then slides his hand into his pocket, removes something that Amelia can’t see. Then, in one deft move he tosses the object to the ground with his left hand, lurches forward and grabs the snake around the middle with his right. The snake’s head has turned to track what he’s thrown and its body seems to have relaxed just enough for him to get a grip around it and yank it from Brenda’s leg. It whips off like an elastic band, and he tosses it as far as he can, sending it pinwheeling away from them. Then he drops forward onto his knees and lets out a long, slow breath.
Amelia makes it just in time to catch Brenda as she faints, veering towards the picnic basket. James stands up and takes Brenda’s other arm, and they lead her away from the clearing. From the food and the cushions and all the things that had been laid out for her relaxation.
‘It didn’t bite you, did it?’ James whispers in Brenda’s ear.
She gives a small shake of her head, but something feels false about the gesture. Though why would she lie about having been bitten? Amelia puts the thought away. ‘Well done,’ she says to her as they walk slowly away from the clearing.
She glances over at James, takes in his pallor. He’s in shock, she thinks. ‘How did you know what to do?’ She needs to keep him talking. Brenda too.
‘I saw a documentary . . .’ His voice trails off, his strength gone. They are all suffering from the post-adrenaline slump.
As they pass the entrance to Tiggy and Giles’s love nest, Amelia says, ‘We should go and get Giles. Tell him he needs to come back with us.’
‘What happened?’ Brenda says, her voice shaking slightly as she valiantly attempts to get over her trauma. ‘Isn’t he with Tiggy?’
Amelia shakes her head. ‘We don’t know yet. An argument of some sort.’
James lets go of Brenda’s arm and she falls into Amelia, before righting herself. ‘I’m OK,’ she says, giving Amelia a small smile. ‘I’ll be fine in a minute. Thank you.’
James disappears down the little path, and they stop to wait for him.
He arrives back barely a minute later, shaking his head. ‘Well, I guess he’s already got bored and headed down to meet the others.’
‘He’s not there?’ Amelia says. She’s surprised. She imagined him to be a bit of a sulker. Waiting there until someone came to beg him to come back.
‘Nope. No sign of him.’
‘OK then,’ she says. ‘Let’s get back to the others.’ As they start to walk something occurs to her that she’d meant to ask straight away, but it slipped her mind. ‘Just wondering . . . what was it you threw?’
James gives her a puzzled look.
‘You know . . . to distract the snake?’
He looks away. ‘Ah, that. Nothing. Just some crap I had in my pocket.’
Just as with Brenda, Amelia feels sure he’s lying, but she doesn’t know why. She decides not to push it. If it’s relevant, she’s sure he’ll tell her later. And if it’s not, well, she’ll just have to trust him.
Tiggy
‘So,’ Lucy says, ‘are you going to tell us what happened with Giles?’
Tiggy sighs. ‘It’s such a mess. I just . . . No doubt everyone who’s ever met Giles would say “I told you so”, but I honestly thought he loved me.’
‘How old are you again?’
‘Twenty-five. Why?’
‘And how long have you been dating . . . ? I mean, properly. Not like the buck-toothed eleven-year-old who gave you a Valentine’s card and asked if you wanted to come to his weekender in the country and play with his ponies.’
Tiggy bristles. ‘I don’t know people like that. You’re hearing the way I speak and making assumptions. I wouldn’t do that to you.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’ Lucy kicks a stone off the path and it disappears over the edge. ‘You’re right, sorry.’
Scott coughs, reminding them he’s there. ‘You both have lovely accents, if you ask me. I can’t really tell the difference between the two, but—’
‘Oh, come on,’ Lucy says. ‘We sound nothing alike. You damn Americans think we all speak like the Queen.’
He chuckles. ‘You do.’
‘My Italian grandmother would be turning in her grave,’ Lucy says, ‘except she’s still alive and kicking and making the best pizza dough in central Scotland.’
‘Don’t start on that “Italians invented pizza” nonsense with me.’
‘We did. And ice cream. Don’t even go there.’
Tiggy ignores them both, switching back to Lucy’s question. ‘I started dating properly when I was fifteen. I haven’t had many boyfriends. I don’t do one-night stands, or anything . . .’ She pauses, trying to find the right word. She wants to say ‘seedy’ but that sounds judgemental, and she doesn’t quite know what Lucy is getting at – she feels that Lucy wants to use her dating history to prove some sort of point, and Tiggy doesn’t want to be sucked into that negativity. Whenever she spends time around negative people, she feels her energy being drained, like a car battery when the lights and radio have been left on all night. She needs to replenish herself with happiness and sunshine and vitamins. She tips her head back, letting the sun soak into her face. Hoping that the vitamin D is getting through her sunscreen.
‘You don’t do one-night stands or anything . . . what?’ Lucy says, leaning in closer.
‘I’m not going to let you goad me. You’re enjoying picking on me, but it won’t be much fun if I ignore you.’
‘Jeez, don’t ignore her,’ Scott chimes in. ‘Then she’ll start on me.’
Lucy grabs her water bottle from her bag and takes a swig. ‘Ah, come on. I wasn’t picking on you. All I was trying to say was, maybe you’re being a bit naive about relationships. I can guess what Giles has been up to, based on what happened in the visitor centre when he got his tracker – that lie he spun you about the girl in the hotel room . . . and also from what I’ve heard about him before. Did you have a big row about him cheating on you? But then again, it was Giles who said this was all just a game—’
‘Oh, wait,’ Tiggy says. ‘I knew I recognised your name. You were the one who wrote that horrible piece about Giles in eXite magazine last year.’ She slaps herself on the forehead. ‘I get it now. You’re a nasty piece of work.’
Lucy tuts. ‘Look, I’m not proud of every single thing I’ve written, but someone gave me the lead and I needed the cash. We don’t all have the Bank of Mummy and Daddy to get us through the lean times.’