Rachel Bennett - Little Girls Tell Tales

Dallin rolled his eyes. ‘She wouldn’t let me out of the tent this morning until I proved I was wearing at least three layers,’ he said. ‘She’s like a mother-hen.’

‘I’m sure your mother would kick me in the shins if she thought I was letting you catch a cold out here,’ Cora replied. I saw Dallin wince.

I picked up my own backpack from my car. I’d been worried the others wouldn’t think to bring snacks and water, but now I saw I’d been concerned for nothing. Cora was better prepared than I was. As well as the maps, she had two bottles of water, a large bar of chocolate, a small first aid kid, and a torch shoved into her bag. She adjusted the water bottles so they wouldn’t dig into her back, then swung the bag onto her shoulder.

‘Which way first?’ I asked.

The car park was little more than a slightly wider bend in the road. If more than a few cars arrived at the same time, the road could get completely blocked. On all sides the trees hemmed us in. Off to the left, a faded noticeboard showed a map of the main route through the curraghs, as well as a few diagrams of the local wildlife. Beyond it, the path cut through the trees towards a five-bar gate, which led to the main track.

I’d assumed we would be starting from the main track, but Cora paced off up the road in the direction we’d come.

‘Are you really planning to go cross-country right from the off?’ I asked. I snuck another look at the map before Cora tucked it into a pocket of her backpack. ‘I don’t know if there are any real paths at that end of the curraghs. At least, not any that’ll go right the way through and back again.’

‘We’ll have to go cross-country at some point,’ Cora said. ‘Might as well get used to it.’

I fell into step beside her. I wasn’t sure it was such a great idea to stray off the main trails on the first day. The going would be tough, if not impossible in places. It might be enough to discourage Cora from her search before it’d even begun.

I glanced down. Cora wore decent wellies, with waterproof trousers tucked into them. None of her gear looked new. Either she did a lot of hiking, or she’d borrowed good clothes from someone who knew what they were doing. Either way it was reassuring. She’d done her homework and she’d come prepared.

Out of interest, I glanced back at Dallin. He wore a bright blue waterproof jacket that still had the sheen of newness, but also jeans and scuffed trainers. He’d have to take care where he trod, or he would spend the day with wet feet. I wondered if no one had bothered to tell him to dress appropriately … or if he’d deliberately not listened.

I shrugged off the question. Dallin had grown up playing in the wetlands. If he didn’t know to wear wellies, it wasn’t any of my business.

At least he’s wearing layers. I started to smile, then stopped as I remembered his offhand comment. Dallin had made it sound like him and Cora were sharing a tent. Was that true? I watched them both as we walked, looking for clues as to whether they were something more than friends. I told myself I was just curious.

No one spoke as we marched off towards our starting point. It occurred to me Cora hadn’t asked if I had anything else to do that day – like going to work or seeing friends. Maybe Dallin had already briefed her on my situation.

I glanced again at Dallin. It stung a little, to think of him talking to people about me, telling them my private life. How much had he said? Did Cora know about my mum and dad? Did she know about Beth?

And then I wondered who else he’d spoken to. Perhaps everyone in his life knew about his sister who lived, broken and alone, in her house in the curraghs.

I shoved my hands into my pockets. For the last year, I’d felt safe and forgotten. No one came to visit anymore. The few friends I’d had – Beth’s friends – had phoned and texted and emailed, with less and less frequency as time went on, until at last, no one checked in with me anymore. I’d ignored my social media accounts for so long they’d probably been deactivated.

I still received those letters, of course, in their plain handwritten envelopes. Nothing could stop them arriving.

Possibly it was being out here in the curraghs which had so quickly soured my mood. Me and Beth had walked those pathways so often. It felt weird being there without her. I hadn’t properly taken that into consideration before leaving my house that morning.

Cora was consulting her smartwatch. She slowed, stopped, took two more paces then a shuffling half-step. ‘That’s us,’ she said. ‘Right here.’

We’d all but reached the edge of the curraghs. From here, along the rest of the length of the road, there were only sparser trees and hedges. Cora double-checked her watch, which showed a bare-bones map and GPS coordinates, then turned to look at the trees at the side of the road. They appeared no different to any other section of the curraghs. The most obvious difference was there was no path of any sort leading into the wetlands. There was also a ditch separating the road from the trees.

‘So, how’re we finding our way, exactly?’ Dallin asked.

‘We’re trailblazing.’ Cora half-smiled at him. ‘Shall I lead the way, or do you want to?’

Dallin muttered something under his breath. There were shadows under his eyes, like maybe he’d been drinking the night before. Not that I blamed him. In a way I was almost jealous. It’d been a long time since I’d last had alcohol.

How sad do you have be, to be jealous of someone with a hangover? This thought, at last, did bring a smile to my face.

Cora jumped over the ditch and pushed aside a couple of branches. The twisted, shallow-rooted trees that grew in the curraghs were springy and resistant, and didn’t much like being shoved out of the way. Cora stepped through them with difficulty.

I looked at Dallin, but he seemed happy to bring up the rear.

I took a short run-up and leapt across the ditch, but lost my balance on the other bank. I would’ve fallen backwards into the brackish water if Cora hadn’t shot out a hand to grab me.

‘Thanks,’ I said, a little breathless, as I regained my footing. ‘It’s been a while since I did anything strenuous.’

In fact, just that small bit of exercise made me realise how out of shape I’d become. I knew I’d put on weight over the eighteen months, due in part to my medication, but it hadn’t really affected me. Staying indoors so much, I wasn’t bothered when my lightweight summer clothes no longer fit. Loose fitting T-shirts and jogging pants had always been my preferred outfits anyway. Without Beth to encourage me to cook meals from scratch, I’d fallen into the bad habit of easily prepared processed food and ready meals; without Beth to drag me out for long walks in the countryside, I’d lost the inclination to go outside.

Now, all of a sudden, I felt self-conscious as I followed Cora through the half-gap in the trees.

There was no path, not even an ill-defined trail left by animals. We were immediately stepping over mud pockets and sunken tree roots. At least the trees were less tightly clumped together here. Weak morning sunlight slanted in through the thin leaves. A few metres to our right, a barbed wire fence marked the edge of someone’s field. Beyond it, tall grass swayed in the soft breeze.

‘We’re too near the edge of the curraghs,’ Dallin said. He’d hopped over the ditch without any issues. ‘We need to search further into the middle.’

‘We need to search all of it,’ Cora said. ‘If we start in the middle we might miss out whole sections by accident.’ She kept one eye on her GPS as she walked. In her other hand she also carried her compass. ‘Has this area changed much in fifteen years?’ she asked me. ‘I mean in terms of size. Has it spread out, or have people built in on the edges, anything like that?’