Chapter 44 Elin

44

Elin

Parque Nacional, Portugal, October 2021

‘Where do you think the scream came from?'

‘Above us.' Isaac is already moving. ‘Somewhere in the direction of the waterfall.'

They scramble up the steps towards the falls, the sound of water growing more distinct, from muted at first to a deafening roar.

The higher they climb, the more Elin feels a moisture that's not just lacing the air, but the surface of the steps. They're slick underfoot, water trailing in small rivulets around the edges.

Her chest is heaving as they clamber up the last few steps and burst onto the clearing at the bottom of the falls.

Elin stands for a moment, looking up, taking it in: Suicide Falls.

The huge wall of white water is thundering down the granite face in front of them with such force that it's foaming where it hits the huge boulders at the bottom. Frothy backwater is surging out from the centre. Her eyes scour the pool of water at the bottom, the sodden grass in front. No one there, no one she can see anyway, unless they're behind the waterfall, the cliff face itself.

‘See anyone?' Isaac asks.

‘No … maybe they've already gone.' She shoots a look behind her, wondering if they'd misjudged the direction of the sound. ‘Could have been kids, messing about.'

But as she looks around her again, a movement suddenly hooks her gaze at the top of the falls.

Two people, silhouetted against the blue of the sky, standing just to the right of where the water is plummeting over the cliff face.

Even from this distance, it's clear they're perilously close to the edge.

Walking forwards a little to get a better look, she stops in her tracks.

Her heart jolts.

Leah and Ned.

‘Isaac,' she yells. ‘It's Leah and Ned up there!'

He's already running towards the falls.

Elin pounds across the grass, struggling for traction on the moist ground.

By the time they reach the bottom of the cliff, her legs are sore, lungs burning. She looks up the rock face with a growing sense of trepidation. No real path up, clearly not meant to be. No signs, or handholds. The viewing point for the falls is down here, in a position of safety.

‘It's not steep, and definitely climbable, I've seen pictures of people doing it, but …' Isaac tails off, his throat bobbing as he surveys it.

Elin follows his gaze. There's an obvious route up – natural plateaus in the rock, carved out by the elements, but they're uneven and gleaming with water.

They'll have to go slowly, she thinks, frustrated. Anything could happen by the time they reach the top. ‘Don't think we've got any choice. Can't see any other way up.'

The steps had been easy compared to this, she thinks as they start to climb, the rocks slippery not just from the water, but the slick patina worn on the surface from the repeated battering of the falls.

It's like walking on ice .

This was a route you had to be determined to take. Determined or desperate, Elin decides, breathing in the damp air, her eyes swerving left to follow the column of water thundering past her. She wonders how many people started this climb and then turned back, faced with the reality of the falls up close.

It's close to ten minutes before they close in on the top.

Breathing heavily, Elin's stomach dips as she takes it in: Leah facing Ned, her back to the falls. She's shivering, her damp clothes clinging to her body, her hair wet, plastered to her skull.

Her eyes lurch to Ned's hand, clamped so tight around Leah's wrist the tips of his fingers are turning white.

They're barely a metre from the edge. One wrong move …

Elin's gaze swerves up to Ned's face. She feels a flicker of panic. There's something raw and dark in his expression, an emotion in his eyes that she can't quite interpret.

She glances at Isaac, but his face is grey, his expression frozen.

She's going to have to handle this herself.

‘You're pretty close to the edge there.' Elin keeps her voice as level as she can. ‘You guys need a hand coming down?'

Ned shakes his head, his eyes fixed on Leah. ‘We're just heading back, aren't we, Leah?' His voice is rough, raspy.

Leah doesn't reply, her head dipped.

Elin's gaze slips to her arm, the scars crisscrossing her wrist. Against the pallor of her skin, they're silvery, almost colourless.

Ned turns towards Elin, looking at her properly for the first time.

A chill snakes down her spine.

Only his profile had been visible before, and she hadn't seen the side of his face, the livid scratch running down his right cheek. Fresh blood is seeping through the broken skin and dissolving in the spray, running down his cheek in watery rivulets.

No time to compute what it means, what might have happened; as he too is now trembling, the arm that's holding on to Leah quaking with the effort of holding her upright .

Elin's pulse is thrumming in her throat.

If he lets go of her, if she moves even slightly …

Isaac glances at her and she can see her own fear reflected in his features.

‘I can come a little higher,' she says evenly. ‘If you'd like, I—'

But before she can finish her words, Ned's right hand jerks out.

Elin's heart leaps, but before she can react, he grabs Leah around the waist, pulling her towards him in one smooth motion before he steps them back and away from the edge.

For a moment, no one speaks, all of them briefly united in a sense of tension suddenly released.

‘She's freezing.' Ned's voice punctures the silence. ‘I'd better get her back to camp.'

Still with his arm around Leah, he leads her another step back, inclining his head towards her. His voice is gentle now, soft. ‘Leah, we need to get you back to camp. Go and see Maggie, get you warmed up.'

‘Do you want a hand? It's going to be pretty slippery on the way down.'

Ned shakes his head. ‘We're not going that way. There's a path from the top. It's a long way round to camp, but we'll take our time.'

‘You're sure?' Elin looks at Leah, reluctant to leave it there, but what can they do? All they've seen is him helping her, nothing more.

‘We'll be okay.' His eyes send a clear message . I've got this. Back off.

It's only as Ned leads her away from them that Leah rouses. As she turns to look at them, her eyes slip past them, unfocused.

‘He's right, you know. It should have been me,' she mutters, her eyes glazed, unblinking. ‘It should have been me, not her.'