Elis was asking himself a similar question. There’s an information board at the far end of the car park, but there’s little else to mark this place as a destination of any kind, other than some wooden signposts that point to several hiking trails. The forest looms high and close and all around. There is no view of anything beyond the trees, and above them thick grey clouds are gathering.
‘It’s just a camping spot,’ Reubyn says. ‘Somewhere to break up the journey.’
‘Somewhere for you to film your bloody video,’ George says.
‘Think of that as a bonus. We have to stop somewhere.’
George scoffs. ‘A bonus? Forgive me, but none of this looks like a bonus, does it?’
‘Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. We’ve got everything we need in the bus, don’t forget.’
As Reubyn speaks, there’s a faint growl of thunder. George says a few words in Latin, then mutters something about wine and heads back into the bus. He’s followed by Reubyn and Faith, who are busy making plans for their video project.
With George and Reubyn out of the way, for a minute at least, now would be a good time to corner Miles for a quick chat. But he’s already wandering off with Jessie. Elis watches as they amble across the car park, and then he feels a presence coming up behind him. He spins around to see Polly. She wears a small smile that is sweeter than normal for her, and Elis wonders if what lies behind it might be pity. He’s becoming something of a loner on this trip.
‘What do you think of this place?’ Polly says.
Elis looks around and shrugs. ‘It’s all right.’
‘You sound about as enthusiastic as I am.’
Elis laughs. ‘It could be worse. Really, a place like this will be as much fun as you’re willing to make it. Do you want to go take a look around?’
She twists the corner of her mouth. ‘Yeah, okay. I think a walk might do me good, actually.’
They walk side by side to the end of the clearing, where there’s a signpost at the entrance to a trail.
Elis ushers Polly ahead of him on to the path, which is wide enough only for single-file. Her pace is sluggish, a weariness to her movements.
‘Is everything okay?’ Elis asks.
She glances back at him. ‘Oh, it’s just been a lot, you know? What’s been going on with Miles.’
‘Of course.’
‘And I discovered something today that was quite upsetting.’
Elis is silent for a moment, unsure what to say. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
A question has formed in Elis’s mind, but he’s unsure whether to ask it. Polly would volunteer more information, wouldn’t she, if she wanted to discuss it with him? They step over the dead trunk of a fallen tree and continue down the path. All about them are masses of wild ferns, and the forest smells of damp vegetation and rotting wood. Birds make an odd collection of sounds overhead: bleep and cackle and click. The trees, too, are peculiar and unknown. Elis can identify most of the trees he comes across in the UK, but not here. Some tower straight up, and others are bony-thin and poke out at strange angles. Many of the tree stems harbour life of their own – flesh-eaten, clumped with moss or strangled by the tendrils of climbing plants. After a minute or so of silence between them, curiosity gets the better of Elis, and he decides to ask. ‘This upsetting thing you found out – do you want to talk about it?’
Polly looks back over her shoulder. ‘Not really.’
‘Okay.’
‘Let’s just say someone I thought I could trust has decided to stab me in the back.’
‘Oh no, that’s awful.’
Polly responds by glancing at him, her lips pursed to confirm the awfulness without words.
Elis says nothing more, and they carry on down the path. After a couple more minutes, the outline of the wooden shack is becoming visible through the trees. It’s bigger than it appeared from the road – maybe thirty feet wide. At one point in time, the wooden boards that make up its sides were stained with dark varnish, but only streaks remain. A set of wooden steps leads up to the entrance, but there’s no door.
Without discussion, they head straight for the shack. Polly continues to lead the way, climbing the steps and raising her forearm to banish a cobweb laced across the door frame. Her footsteps beat a hollow sound out of the wooden boards as she enters. Elis follows and finds three windows of grubby glass that look out on to a pond, withtiers of banked earth behind and a sparse collection of trees. There are a series of feeders, and that they’ve been replenished with seeds is the only sign so far that anyone else has ventured into this part of the forest in months.
‘What is this thing?’ Polly asks.
‘It’s a bird hide.’
