Elis sighs. ‘I’m not going to let you speak for me. As far as I’m concerned, this is a perfectly nice spot to camp, and I wouldn’t mind staying another night.’
George ignores Elis and turns to face Miles. ‘Will you kindly have a word with your beg friend and tell him his opinion doesn’t carry any weight in this group?’
Silence. The atmosphere shifts before George has even finished his sentence. His words are delivered casually, as if a throwaway remark of no consequence. But the impact is stark. The group exchange nervous glances.
Elis appears stunned for a moment, then glares at George. ‘Beg friend?’
Polly shakes her head. This situation is close to getting out of control. ‘George, stop it.’
George fixes Polly with a serious stare, and, just for a second, it looks as if he might back down. Maybe even apologise. But then the corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk and his eyes take on a maniacal glint – the look of a man who simply wants to watch the world burn. Suddenly, the rain beating against the roof sounds like a percussionist brushing a snare. It’s like a drum roll to highlight the growing tension, increasing in energy and volume right up until this show’s big reveal. Polly can almost hear the climactic clash of a cymbal as George begins to speak.
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he says, his eyes back on Elis. ‘Beg friend. As in, someone who doesn’t have real friends and has to desperately cling on where he’s not wanted. Beg. Friend.’
Faith and Jessie look at each other, grimacing.
Elis slowly stands. His hands are tense, fingers clawing by his sides, which then ball into fists. ‘Why don’t you come here and call me that?’
George springs to his feet with a grin and walks towards him. ‘I’d be happy to,beg friend.’
In a sudden, spring-like movement, Elis’s arm uncoils and he strikes out at George, his fist thudding against his cheek. George stumbles and steadies himself on the sideboard. Reubyn, Miles and Faith rush in to fill the space between them. They bark at Elis, ordering him back, and form a barrier to stop the two men from reaching each other. Jessie is frozen, her hands covering her mouth in shock. Polly groans and makes a dismissive remark, but she too is shocked. Witnessing this sudden act of violence gives her a pang of nausea.
George appears dazed for a moment as he presses three fingers to his reddening face. Then his eyes bulge. Still holding his face, he jabs a finger at Elis. ‘You’ll regret that.’
Elis smirks. ‘I doubt it.’
George’s tongue forms a moving lump under his skin as it explores for damage inside his mouth. He slowly nods. ‘Oh, you will.’
‘Cut it out, you two,’ Polly snaps. ‘This isn’t helping our situation one bit.’
Elis has already turned away. He grabs his coat off its hook and opens the door, and the sound of the storm intensifies for a moment before he walks out. The door slams shut behind him.
George begins a tirade about Elis, and Polly turns her back, trying to tune out his angry outburst. She slumps on to the bench and putsher head in her hands. They need to leave. But with Reubyn digging his heels in, and Elis having just wandered off, that’s not happening. They’re going to have to stay here a little longer – in a place that is totally cut off, both digitally and geographically.
And there’s something else that’s started niggling away at her since she witnessed that ugly scene. What if George is right? They don’t know Elis that well, and he can seem quite intense – as evidenced by the assault he just launched. What if Miles has made a mistake in trusting this guy? Maybe they shouldn’t have invited him along. And now they’re stuck with him.
Chapter 38
Alex
Should I tell you my name? My real name. Right now? Gosh, it’s tempting. Do you know, Miles, I came so close to revealing myself to you last night. You see, I can hardly wait a second longer before I get to see that look in your eyes when you realise you haven’t got away with anything. I confess, it’s becoming difficult to keep my emotions in check. But I must, just for a little longer.
In case it isn’t obvious, I’m right here in this forest. I like this place. It couldn’t be better, actually. The weather leaves a little to be desired, but I suppose you can’t have everything.
I keep thinking about what exactly has brought you here, Miles. Is it a need for isolation? A love of the great outdoors? A random pin in a map?
No, it’s something else. Fate has brought us here, I’m sure of it. Perhaps fate is the wrong word, but nevertheless I feel it happening: these powerful, balancing forces moving to create equilibrium; immortal, unseen hands moving us carefully around like pieces on a chess board. I’m one or two moves away. One or two moves. And then that’s it, Miles. Checkmate.
You don’t realise this, but under the cover of this forest, I’ve been able to take a good look at you. In light of everything that’s happened, you’re not behaving at all as I expected. I’m coming to the conclusion that you’re playing a part. You’re acting. How perfect. You’ve embodied a role. If that is indeed what’s happening, you are a slightly better actor than I gave you credit for.
When I look at you, I’m trying to fathom what, if anything, is genuine in your facial expressions. The only thing I know for sure that isn’t faked is the perturbed look you get when you’re trying to figure out who I am. Who is following you? You’d love to know, wouldn’t you?
What if I was to give you a clue? What if I was to tell you that I’m not the man you followed out of the bar the other night? Would that help?
That I, too, am an actor? No, I couldn’t do that – it would be too much of a giveaway. You’d know instantly who I am.
I’m a good actor, you know. A far superior actor to you, Miles. I’m certain of that, even if I am destined never to get the sort of success you are capable of.
What I’ve learned about our industry, Miles, is that talent will only get you so far. Your personal background is far more important. Anyone in any doubt about that should look up their favourite British actor and find out what school they went to, how their family came into possession of their generational wealth.
