Chapter 6 Elin

6

Elin

Parque Nacional, Portugal, October 2021

‘I don't get it,' Elin calls, picking up the pace to catch up with him. ‘What's with the whole, there's something I need to do ?'

Isaac avoids her gaze. ‘I promised a mate, Penn, that I'd take a look for his sister while we were out here. Reckons she went missing, here, in the park.'

Falling in step beside him, Elin blinks, discomforted. He hadn't mentioned anything about this before, and looking at his awkward expression, it's clear that was a deliberate decision.

Is this the real reason he suggested coming out here? A favour for a friend? Nothing to do with them spending time together?

‘Thought this was meant to be a holiday.' She tries to keep her tone light but it's hard. Isaac knew how much she needed this break. To land this on her now when she's already out here, has no choice …

‘It is. Don't know what we'll find, if anything. Penn didn't exactly give me much to go on. All he said was that he thinks Kier never left the park. '

Elin nods towards the vans, now properly visible between the trees. ‘So what's this place got to do with it?'

‘Penn says Kier was last seen here. At this camp. I—' He abruptly stops as a man appears on the trail in front of them.

‘Você está hospedado no Airstreams?' The man smiles lazily, looking them up and down. He's in his late thirties, barefoot, bare-chested, sweat drawing lines through the layer of dust on his face.

Isaac's reply is mumbled, faltering. ‘Você … fala inglês?'

The man switches to English. ‘Let me guess, you're staying up at the Airstreams?' The accent is unexpected – American. He's holding a chisel, his forefinger bleeding, and as he puts it to his mouth, sucks, he seems amused as he eyes up their backpacks. Although battered, used, they're clearly not holding up under scrutiny.

‘Is it that obvious?' Isaac grins now, all easy, self-deprecating smiles.

He laughs. ‘Well, you might as well come and say hey, seeing as we'll be neighbours. I'm Ned.' Sweeping an arm behind him, he gestures for them to come closer. As he turns, Elin glimpses a tattoo at the base of his skull, shadowed by his buzz cut.

‘Isaac.' Isaac gestures to her. ‘Elin.'

‘English?'

Elin smiles.

‘If you haven't already worked it out, we're American.' He laughs again. ‘Either by birth or sheer sticking power.'

Small talk, batted back and forth as they follow him down the track towards the camp. Weather. Food. The trip so far.

After about fifty metres or so, the path breaks open into a space wider than she'd imagined. An encampment. Her first instinct was right; the camp has an air of permanency. People putting down roots. Solar panels. Generators. Tarpaulins set over water butts.

A washing line has been strung across the gap between the white camper vans in the middle, shirts and skirts flapping in the breeze.

Through the open doors of the vans, she examines the framed prints on the walls, the piles of books, herbs in pots trailing down some shelves .

A warm, homely vibe, but something's niggling at her about the scene, something she can't quite get a grasp on. She looks and looks again, but nothing pulls out at her.

Elin casts her gaze away from the vans themselves to a large communal area in the centre. There's a fire pit in the middle, a few faded rugs surrounding it.

A young woman with long, bleach-blonde hair is sat on a bench at the side, the grass beneath it worn to white. The laptop screen in front of her is revealing nothing but a reflection of the sun.

Opposite, there's a slightly older woman with a sharp bob and a heavy fringe holding a squirming toddler of about two on her lap. She coughs as they move closer.

The careless laughter, conversation, comes to an abrupt stop.

Elin feels the hairs on her neck stand to attention as the group turns in a well-oiled unison. Their expressions are friendly, but the defensive body language tells her their arrival is an invasion.

Outsiders.

A dog runs towards them, barking. It's a spaniel, with liver-coloured spots like paint splotches marking his back. Ned gives him a gentle tug on his collar, then gestures to the woman on the end. ‘That's Bridie and her kid, Etta.' He smiles at the child, but she doesn't return it, burrowing her head into the crook of her mother's arm. ‘And that's Leah.'

He nods at her. The younger woman looks up, her features shadowed beneath a broad-rimmed sunhat. Late twenties at most, she's painfully thin, her skin pale.

Ned steps back. ‘Last but not least, Maggie. The one who holds us all together.'

A woman with curly dark hair, threaded through with grey, appears from the white van in the centre. She's cradling a mug in her hand, broad feet splayed wide in a pair of leather sandals. Though she must be late sixties, early seventies, there's an ease to her movements that belies her age.

Stopping beside them, the mug tips, dark liquid spilling across her linen smock. Loudly cursing, she holds out her hand, the winding scar on her cheek creasing as she smiles. ‘Looks like I'm the only one, apart from Ned here, who's going to be polite enough to say a proper hello.' Maggie gestures up the hill. ‘You'll love it up at the Airstreams. Everyone who stays there does.'

‘She's only saying that because I read out the reviews to her,' Bridie calls. ‘It's not like anyone comes back and tells us. One encounter with the great unwashed is enough.' She tails off, openly observing Elin, eyes tracing first her face, then Isaac's.

Elin looks away, discomforted. Despite the warmth of the welcome, she has the sense of something lurking beneath it.

‘How long are you planning on staying?' Ned places the chisel on the work bench at the side, raises his finger to his mouth to suck again.

‘Rest of the week. Heard there's lots to explore.' Isaac hoists his backpack up his shoulder. ‘How about you? A stopover?'

‘We're a little more permanent than that.' Ned looks at Maggie. ‘Been here, what? Four years or more.'

‘I'd say.' She smiles. ‘At least that.'

‘Fed up with the road,' Bridie adds, teasing a piece of the toddler's hair away from her face. ‘For the time being, anyway.'

‘And it's just been you guys all that time?' Elin asks.

Ned's eyes drift over her face before settling back to the dog. ‘Yeah, just us.'

A silence descends. It's like a cold breeze had swept through the camp.

The atmosphere shifts into something hostile.

Elin feels sweat prick beneath her arms. She looks at Isaac to give him the nod, but as she tries to catch his eye, she notices a shadowy movement through the window of the blue van on the right.

‘You didn't get too hot here over summer?' Isaac continues, oblivious. ‘We heard about the fires.'

‘Didn't reach us, thank god.' Maggie sips her coffee. ‘And when it gets hot, there's places to go to cool off, if you know. We can tell you some, if you like, off the beaten track. Not the usual tourist traps.'

‘That'd be good. '

Maggie smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Looking away, she picks up a cloth from the bench, starts mopping at the spill on her smock.

‘Well, we'll be off, then,' Isaac says, taking the hint. ‘See you around, maybe, get those recommendations.'

The group at the bench resume their conversation. Only Ned puts up a hand in farewell as he moves towards the edge of the clearing, quickly consumed by shadow from the trees overhead.

A few metres down the path, Elin turns back, glances towards the blue van again.

This time, the view through the window reveals nothing but the branches of the pine trees behind, shifting in the breeze.