and Connor arguing about synthetic music.”
She needed his help to stand, and then to balance. He let her lean on him the whole way, his feet sometimes stepping sideways to avoid hers. She still trod on him twice.
“I don’t fit in,” she said, halting suddenly. “I’m not one of you. Or one of anyone.”
“No, you’re not one of anyone,” Benners said. From close by, he looked taller. Fiercer. “You’re one of you. Just one of you. And that’s worth more than anything.”
And then she lost his attention, as his head turned sharply. They were close to the fire. There was illumination limning every tree trunk. It reminded her of Bonfire Night, and then, suddenly, of a horror movie where the gates of hell had opened.
Benners took her hand and tugged her forward. Her balance was no better and she went crashing into one of the trees, her shoulder scraping it.
He paused for a moment, but then pressed on, until they were at the edge of the clearing, the fire turning everything a rich, sensual orange.
Someone there gave a cry of what sounded like pain, and she pushed past him to see, her heart pounding behind her ribs. Her breath short.
There were two forms by the fire, huddled up beside it, one of them making strange sounds. She kept walking until she was closer, not able to make them out.
And then her double vision slid into one for a moment and she realized that Connor was crying. His whole body was heaving as he sobbed, and Jojo was curled round him, shushing him.
“It’s OK,” she said. “It’s OK.”
“I hate him,” Connor said. “I hate him.”
It was almost as bad as finding them naked together. She felt her cheeks burning as Connor glanced up and saw her. He looked like he hated her, too, just then.
“Sorry,” she said quietly.
She and Benners were close to the tent; the sleeping bags; the supplies. Aurora pulled herself free of Benners and ducked down. She had to put a hand down three times to steady herself while she pulled a sleeping mat out from the pile and picked up one of the tightly packed sleeping bags to go with it.
Benners gave her a strange look when she stood up again. One that was between embarrassed and disappointed.
He followed her as she walked back into the darkness, away from Connor and Jojo and that intimate moment of grief, and away from Topaz and Coralie and Brett. She stopped only once she couldn’t hear anything anymore. On what looked like a smooth enough patch of ground, she threw the mat down.
“Are you going to be all right this far out?” Benners asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”
There was a pause while she made a mess of unpacking the sleeping bag, and then couldn’t lay it straight. She could feel him hovering behind her.
“Do you want me to stick around and talk for a bit?”
Aurora shook her head. “I want to go to sleep.”
She waited for him to argue, or to agree. But Benners said nothing while she unzipped the sleeping bag and climbed in laboriously. In the end, only his quiet footsteps on the fallen leaves and twigs let her know he had gone.
25
Jojo was solemn as she repeated, for the benefit of the tape, everything she’d told Jonah at the climbing wall. She detailed how she had worked to cave in the entrance from above while Brett had stood below, and how much she regretted not looking inside first.
“To the best of your knowledge,” Jonah asked, once she was done, “was there anyone outside that group who knew about that hideout? Before or after?”
Jojo’s eyes moved to his face, and then away again. “I don’t think so.”
“You didn’t see anyone else close to the camp that night? Nobody mentioned spotting someone who could have seen the group coming and going from there?”
Jojo shook her head again. He found himself looking at the definition of the muscles in her arms.
“Did you climb back then?” he asked her, and he could see that she was disconcerted by the way she looked up at him. Lightman, sitting beside him, gave no reaction, which was one of the best things about the sergeant.
“I—yes. I’ve climbed since I was eight. My older brother, Anton, got me into it when he worked weekends at the outdoor center near Ashurst. Well, he let me try it properly. I basically lived up trees by then anyway.”
“So you’ve always been outdoorsy? Strong?”
“I guess so,”