Beautiful Wild - Anna Godbersen Page 0,67

looked out at the horizon as though Fitz might be there, but she had begun to accept that he probably never would be.

Three days had passed. She was hopelessly freckled. She had become accustomed to walking on bare feet. She had begun to wear her own fate like a light summer slip.

Her fate, as it turned out, seemed to involve quite a deep interest in sticks and stones.

And here she was now, rushing to Sal to show him how perfectly she’d whittled a stick into a spear.

“Let me see.” Sal grinned as he examined the fine point in the light. He was crouching by the fire, where they kept a few embers going through the day, and weaving a fish trap out of dried vines.

Vida had not known how badly she wanted his approval until the long pause that followed. He examined her spear and said nothing. “Well?” she demanded.

“It’s good.” His dark eyes met hers as he handed it back. “What will you do with it?”

“Me?” She stared at it in puzzlement. Somehow she had thought she was making it for him, or for Jack, who had once been an ordinary seaman on the Princess, to do something manly with. What exactly that might be she couldn’t say. She went on staring at it, but the spear refused to proclaim its fate.

“You’ve made it,” he said. “Surely you know?”

She was on the verge of making something up—lest she look a complete fool—but then she noticed Camilla passing by the camp, her face a little wan. The happy-seeming Camilla she had known for a few days had gone away with the big wave and the disappearance of Fitz. She was like a ghost again. Although she had, like some of the other ladies, followed Vida’s lead and removed the aubergine top layer of her skirt—such fabrics were crucial to maintaining the privacy between huts—and given up on wearing what was left of her slippers, still she wore layers of petticoat, and the fitted bodice of what had once been her dress.

“Where’s she going?” Vida asked.

“We were right to build here—it’s the highest, flattest ground—but she’s taken it hard.”

“Oh!” Vida was ashamed of her thoughtlessness. “Of course—the grave.”

“Yes. It’s close to where we buried her husband. She might seem like a hypocrite. But she loved him. Whatever games they played they all played; they were her family.”

“Oh.”

“Have you noticed her going off like that?”

“No . . .” But even as she said it she knew it was a lie, that in fact she had seen Camilla doing this at least twice before. “I’ll follow,” Vida said. “See where she goes.”

It was not, Vida decided, that she was an entirely new person. She was still a little jealous of Camilla, afraid that her connection with Fitz was deeper, and more real, than Vida’s own. But she knew that was absurd. And anyway, she thought that Fitz would have liked it if they were friends now.

As she moved through the jungle, the sounds of the camp dwindled—the children’s cries, the constant susurrus of roofs being thatched—and the cawing of birds, the buzz of insects overwhelmed her ears. It was not until she had traveled a distance that she noticed how firmly she gripped the spear. For some moments she was lost. Then she saw the white splash of Camilla’s petticoat, heard the sound of falling water. They were at the pool. The spray rose up, catching the bright midday light.

So, Camilla was only here to bathe, Vida thought. She had worried for nothing.

But as soon as Vida’s shoulders relaxed, she saw that Camilla had no intention of stopping. She was climbing up the sheer, rocky side of the waterfall, where little green sprouts clung to small patches of soil. The way was steep, and Camilla used her hands to ascend. Vida’s first thought was how scratched and dirty Camilla’s hands would get, how ripped and ruined her petticoat. But then without thinking she followed, testing the ground as she went, never trusting her footing.

Despite her melancholy, Camilla set a determined pace, and by the time Vida reached the high ridge a sheen of sweat covered all her skin, and her chest was dry, desperate for breath. For a moment Vida had almost forgotten about the other woman. She’d had to concentrate while they scrambled upward and had stopped noticing much. But now they emerged into the open air of a vertiginous height. On one side, the mountain rose up to the peak from