I don’t know which shocks me more, the fact she took my passport or that I never noticed it was missing. ‘Why?’
‘Because I didn’t want you to leave without telling me. I have a favour to ask, but now we need to go. Are you ready?’
Favour? ‘I can’t get the boot on,’ I say, more confused than ever.
‘Do it later. We have to hurry.’
She’s already ushering me from behind the statue. I’ve no choice but to carry the boot, the rough ground gouging into my bare foot.
‘Careful,’ she says, steering me away from a patch of shadow. At first I don’t know what she means, then I make out something hard-edged hidden in it.
So much for Arnaud not setting traps near his statues.
But Mathilde seems to know where to tread as she hurries me back to the track. I limp along as fast as I can, fresh hurt coming from my foot each time I set it down. The clouds covering the moon are shredded, allowing a sickly light to dapple through. I risk a glance towards the lake, but can’t see Arnaud.
‘What favour?’ I ask, keeping my voice low.
There’s enough light to see her tuck her hair behind her ear in the familiar gesture. I can’t make out her face but I can sense her agitation.
‘I want you to take Gretchen with you.’
‘You
‘Shh, just listen.’ Mathilde grips my arm, her voice low and hushed. ‘I have to get her away from here, and she’ll go with you. I know it’s a lot to ask but I don’t expect you to support her. I’ll send more money, as much as I can.’
‘Jesus, Mathilde…’
‘Please! I could have told the police about the drugs in your rucksack.’
Of course she’d know, I think, too stunned to feel shocked. I was feverish for three days. A stranger: did I really expect her not to search my things to see who she was looking after? The only surprise is that she let me stay anyway.
Unless she had her own reasons.
The overhanging leaves cast a shadowplay on Mathilde’s face as moonlight breaks through the clouds. The track comes to life around us. Past the wood, the vine field is thrown into sharp relief, the rutted track clearly etched on it like lines drawn in charcoal. I think I see a flicker of movement on it as Mathilde urges me to walk faster.
‘Hurry, we—’
The sudden crack of a gunshot rings out. It comes from behind us, the direction of the lake, and we both flinch as it’s followed by a second. Mathilde pulls me off the track.
‘Down here!’
The trees close in like a tunnel as she leads me down the fork to the sanglochon pens. Branches whip at me as I run just behind her, favouring my cut foot, and then we’re in the ammoniac stink of the clearing. The full moon shines overhead like a beacon, picking out the sows slumped asleep like hairy bolsters. Hoping they don’t wake, I limp behind Mathilde. I expect her to head towards the wood at the far side, but instead she goes to the cinderblock hut.
‘In here,’ she pants, pushing open the door.
There’s no time to argue. I hurry inside and the light is cut off as both halves of the stable door swing shut. The reek of offal and old blood closes in around us. It’s pitch black and our laboured breathing sounds too loud in the enclosed space. There’s no window, but as my eyes adjust I see chinks of light seeping through gaps in the mortar. Mathilde brushes past me and peers through one.
‘Is he there?’ I whisper.
‘I don’t know. I don’t think so.’
I go to look for myself, and there’s a muted clinking as my shoulder brushes something. I give a start before realizing it’s the chain hanging from the pulley. Groping in the dark to quieten its swaying, I feel my way around the stone slab standing in the middle of the hut. I press my face against one of the chinks in the rough wall, blinking as my breath huffs away dirt and sand. The small crack doesn’t allow much of a view, and the clearing is already darkening as another cloud covers the moon. But there’s no sign of Arnaud.
‘If he’d seen us he’d be here already,’ Mathilde murmurs. At least the hut’s walls won’t let our voices carry: Arnaud would have to be right outside to hear us. ‘He must have been shooting at shadows.’
‘Then let’s go.’ I’m already regretting coming in here. I move towards the thin line of light leaking around the door, but Mathilde reaches out to stop me.
‘Not yet.’
‘Why? Shouldn’t we go while he’s still at the lake?’
‘He could be on his way back by now. We could walk right into him.’
She’s right, but I’m loath to stay where we are. The cinderblock walls might stop a small-calibre bullet, but if Arnaud guesses we’re in here we’ll be trapped.
‘What about the woods on the other side of the clearing? Can we get out that way?’
‘No, it’s too dangerous. There’s no path and my father laid traps in there as well.’
Oh Christ. I try to think. ‘So what do we do now?’
‘We wait. In a few minutes I’ll go out and see if it’s clear.’
‘What if it isn’t?’
‘Then I’ll tell him you slipped away while he was at the lake. Once he’s gone to bed I’ll come and get you.’
