She looked at her watch and saw that they’d been climbing for twenty minutes. That meant they were maybe fifteen from the car, reckoning the descent quicker than the climb. Peering upwards, she guessed they had another fifteen or twenty minutes to go. Hood expelled breath noisily.
‘You okay?’ she asked.
‘Good exercise,’ he said hoarsely. Then he began climbing again. There were damp patches on the back of his dark blue sweatshirt. Any minute now he’d probably take it off, and be clad only in a T-shirt as the weather turned. Sure enough, he paused to pull the sweatshirt over his head.
‘It’s getting cold,’ she warned him.
‘But I’m not.’ He tied the arms of the sweatshirt around his waist.
‘At least put your cagoule back on.’
‘I’ll bake.’
‘No you won’t.’
He seemed ready to argue, then changed his mind. Siobhan had already zipped up her Barbour again. The countryside around them was growing less visible, either low cloud or mist. Or maybe showers blowing in.
Five minutes on, the rain began. Drizzle at first, and then a smattering of big drops. Siobhan put her hat back on, and watched Grant pull his hood up. It was getting windy, too, gusts cutting across them. Grant lost his footing and went down on one knee, cursing. For the next few dozen steps he was limping, clutching at his leg with one hand.
‘Do you want to wait?’ she asked, knowing what his answer would be: silence.
The rain grew heavier, but in the distance the sky was already clearing. It wouldn’t last long. All the same, Siobhan’s legs were soaked, her trousers sticking to her. Grant’s trainers were making squelching sounds. He had switched to auto-pilot, his eyes staring, nothing at all on his mind except reaching the summit, whatever it took.
As they clambered up the last steep incline, the land levelled off. They’d reached the summit. The rain was easing. Twenty feet away stood a cairn. Siobhan knew that sometimes hill-walkers added a rock or stone each time they ended a climb. Maybe that was how this cairn had come into being.
‘What, no restaurant?’ Grant said, crouching down to get his breath back. The rain had stopped, a shaft of sunshine splitting the clouds and bathing the hills around in an eerie yellow glow. He was shivering, but the rain had been pouring off his cagoule and on to his sweatshirt, soaking it. No use putting it on now. His denims had changed colour to a darker, dampened blue.
‘Hot tea, if you want it,’ Siobhan said. He nodded and she poured him a cup. He sipped at it, studying the cairn.
‘Are we scared what we’ll find?’ he said.
‘Maybe we won’t find anything.’
He conceded as much with a nod. ‘Go look,’ he told her. So she screwed the top back on the flask and approached the cairn, walked round it. Just a pile of stones and pebbles. ‘There’s nothing here,’ she said. She got down on her haunches to take a closer look.
‘There must be.’ Grant rose to his feet, walked towards her. ‘There’s got to be.’
‘Well, whatever it is, it’s well hidden.’
He touched a foot to the cairn, then gave a push, toppling it. Dropped to his knees, running his hands through the debris. His face was screwed up, teeth bared. Soon the pile of stones was completely flattened. Siobhan had lost interest in it, was looking around for other possibilities, seeing none. Grant thrust a hand into his cagoule pocket, pulling out the two plastic evidence bags he’d brought. She watched him stuff them under the largest rock, then begin building the cairn again. It didn’t get very high before it started to fall down.
‘Leave it, Grant,’ Siobhan said.
‘Useless piece of shit!’ he cried out. She couldn’t be sure who or what his words were aimed at.
‘Grant,’ she said quietly. ‘Weather’s closing in again. Let’s head back.’
He seemed reluctant to go. He sat on the ground, legs stretched out, arms behind him to support himself.
‘We got it wrong,’ he said, almost in tears. Siobhan was looking at him, knowing she needed to coax him back down the hill. He was wet and cold and losing it. She crouched in front of him.
‘I need you to be strong, Grant,’ she said, her hands on his knees. ‘You go to pieces on me, and that’s it finished. We’re a team, remember?’
‘A team,’ he echoed. Siobhan was nodding.
‘So let’s act like a team and get our arses off this hill.’
He was staring at her hands. He reached out with his own, wrapping them around hers. She started to rise, pulling him with her. ‘Come on, Grant.’ They were both up on their feet now, and his eyes weren’t moving from her.
‘Remember what you said?’ he asked. ‘When we were trying to get parked near Victoria Street?’
‘What?’
‘You asked why I always had to play by the rules...’
‘Grant...’ She tried for a look that was sympathetic rather than pitying. ‘Let’s not spoil it,’ she said quietly, trying to slide her hands out from his grip.
‘Spoil what?’ he asked hollowly.
‘We’re a team,’ she repeated.
‘That’s it?’
He was staring at her as she nodded. She kept nodding and he slowly released her hands. Siobhan turned to move away, start the descent. She hadn’t gone five paces when Grant flew past her, bounding down the slope like a man possessed. He lost his footing once or twice but bounced straight back up again.
‘Tell me those aren’t hailstones!’ he called out at one point. But they were: stinging Siobhan’s face as she tried to catch up. Then Grant caught his cagoule on the barbed wire as he hurdled the fence, ripping its seam. He was swearing and red-faced as he helped Siobhan over. They got into the car and just sat there for a full minute, getting their breath back. The windscreen started steaming up, so Siobhan slid her window down. The hail had stopped. The sun was coming out again.
‘Bloody Scottish weather,’ Grant spat. ‘Is it any wonder we’ve a chip on our shoulder?’
‘Have we? I hadn’t noticed.’
He snorted, but smiled too. Siobhan looked at him, hoping it was going to be all right between them. The way he was acting, it was as if nothing had happened up there on the summit. She took off her Barbour and tossed it into the back. Grant slipped the cagoule over his head. There was steam rising from his T-shirt. From beneath the seat, Siobhan retrieved the laptop and plugged her mobile into it, booting the machine up. The mobile’s signal was weak, but it would do.
‘Tell him he’s a bastard,’ Grant said.
‘I’m sure he’d be thrilled to hear it.’ Siobhan started typing a message, Grant leaning over to watch.
Just been up Hart Fell. No sign of next clue. Did I get it wrong?
She pressed ‘send’ and waited, pouring herself a cup of tea. Grant was trying to prise his denims away from his skin. ‘Soon as we get moving, I’ll put the heater on.’ She nodded, offered him some more tea, which he took. ‘What time’s the meeting with the banker?’
She checked her watch. ‘We’ve a couple of hours. Time enough to go home and get changed.’
Grant looked at the screen. ‘He’s not there, is he?’
Siobhan shrugged, and Grant turned the Alfa’s ignition. They drove in silence, the weather clearing ahead of them. It soon became clear that the rain had been localised. By Innerleithen, the road was bone dry.
‘I wonder if we should have taken the A701,’ Grant mused. ‘Might have made for a shorter climb, the west side of the hill.’
‘Doesn’t matter now,’ Siobhan said. She could see that in his mind he was still on Hart Fell. The laptop suddenly announced that there was post. She clicked, but it was an invitation to visit a porn site. ‘That’s not the first of those I’ve had,’ she informed Grant. ‘Makes me wonder what you got up to with your computer.’