‘In thirty minutes, that’s a tall order, but we can give it a go.’
‘Let’s not waste any more time.’ I went to take the pistol from his hand, but Marcel moved his hand away.
‘Before we go playing the Wild West, I need to show you how to handle this safely, so you don’t shoot your own fingers or toes off or plant a bullet in your own side. And yes, it’s been done before, so listen up.’
After several minutes of going through the parts of the weapon and how to make it safe, how to get ready to discharge it, Marcel was confident I knew what I was doing. I weighed the gun in my hand after successfully loading, unloading and reloading the bullets quickly enough and accurately enough for Marcel’s liking. ‘So, you need to show me how to fire this thing now.’
From his bag, Marcel took out an apple and walked over to a large bolder. He placed it on top at roughly his own eye level. I wanted to say what a waste of an apple, but in the circumstances felt it was a justifiable waste.
‘It’s relatively simple,’ said Marcel. ‘Hold the gun out in front of you, not close enough that they can grab the barrel and twist it out of your hand or, even worse, overpower you and turn the gun on you.’
I did as I was instructed. I was surprised at the weight in my outstretched hand, but also felt a surge of anticipation. ‘Like this?’
‘That’s good. Now look down your arm and along the barrel. Line your arm up with your sight.’ He came over and stood behind me, his body in close contact with mine. He placed one hand on my shoulder and the other down the length of my arm. His head was touching mine and I could feel his breath on the side of my face. I was aware I was breathing heavily. ‘Try to keep your breathing steady,’ he said softly. ‘Take a deep breath and gently squeeze that trigger. Not now. When I tell you to.’
I nodded and whispered a yes, fully aware of how close he was to me and how much I liked it.
‘When you pull that trigger, you’re going to feel a jolt as it gives a little kickback. It’s all perfectly normal. Pull the trigger, hold your aim and absorb that kickback. Let it travel up your arm and let your shoulder be the cushion. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Now gently squeeze. The gun’s loaded, as you know. It’s going to fire and you’re going to hit that apple.’
‘I admire your confidence in me,’ I said.
‘I’m here helping you. Trust me. You do trust me, don’t you?’
The question seemed more loaded than the gun I was holding. ‘I’m here in the forest with you. I think that shows I trust you,’ I whispered back. He didn’t speak for a moment, and I sensed he was looking at me from the corner of his eye, but I remained focused on the gun and the apple, as well as trying to keep my breathing steady.
‘Breathe in. One. Two. Squeeze. More. Squeeze more.’
The gun fired, and the noise and the kickback made me jump. I gave a small yelp of surprise and immediately felt embarrassed. The bullet caught the side of the apple, taking a gouge of flesh out. ‘We did it.’ I was delighted with the result.
‘Not bad for a first attempt,’ said Marcel. ‘Let’s do it all over again.’
And we did. Several more times. With each attempt, I became more and more relaxed at handling the gun, expecting the sound and the kickback, while simultaneously becoming more and more aware of the closeness of Marcel’s body. On the last go, his lips were grazing my jawline, and I had to do everything I could to stop myself from turning around and kissing him. I had no idea where that thought came from and I shied away just as I pulled the trigger, sending the bullet somewhere way off the target.
‘Hey, don’t get twitchy,’ said Marcel, holding me against him. I tried to wriggle away, but he held me tighter. ‘Relax.’
How on earth was I supposed to do that? ‘I’m all right,’ I said. ‘You can let me go now. I was just distracted.’
Marcel dropped his arms away, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. ‘Distracted?’
‘Yes. A bird or something. I don’t know.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ I insisted, looking away in case I was blushing. ‘Now, what about the other gun?’
He didn’t answer immediately, and I intently studied the pistol in my hand so I didn’t have to look at him. Finally, he spoke. ‘All right. Let’s try the thirty-eight.’
We repeated the procedure as we had for the pistol. I tried to concentrate on aiming and firing rather than the proximity of Marcel. I was sure he was fully aware of it too, but he remained professional.
‘You’re going to have to get some more practice in if you intend on using this one,’ he said. ‘Look, we’d better be getting back. We’ve been here long enough.’ He stepped away from me and, taking the weapon, made it safe before putting it back into his bag.
We made our way out of the gully, taking a different route out to the steep bank we had come down, but it was still a strain on the calf muscles. I was relieved when we reached the top. ‘Oh, that was—’
‘Shh.’ Marcel cut me off mid-sentence. He had stopped suddenly, and I could tell he was looking at and listening intently to our surroundings. ‘Get down,’ he whispered.
