Page 23 of You Lied First
O nce Guy’s selected the perfect camping spot, nestled among a few softly undulating dunes near a clutch of trees, he indicates to Margot where she should park.
As long as she does what he tells her, Margot and Guy are a good team when it comes to setting up camp – the things that need to be done coming back to them almost like muscle memory, but it’s hot work despite the breeze.
The sun may be on its way down, but heat still radiates off the top layer of the sand and fat flies buzz around, attracted by the sweat that runs down the side of Margot’s face as she scrambles around.
She’s panting by the time she’s rammed the last tent peg deep into slippery, soft sand.
The large tent looks solid: it has two self-contained, zipped rooms and a shaded veranda that Guy is calling ‘the terrace’.
Arranged around it are the two one-man, pop-up tents and, in the middle of the campsite, Celine and Sara have set up the table facing the spot where they predict the sun will sink below the dunes, arranged six chairs around it, and dragged over the large cool box that contains much of the alcohol.
‘Good job, team,’ Guy says as they survey their handiwork.
‘This is incredible. It looks so cosy,’ Celine says, looking enviously inside the big tent.
Guy points to the two small tents. ‘You and Sara are in the “desert suites”. No en suite though. Bathroom’s that way.’ He points to the trees. ‘But please dig a hole. Don’t just leave it lying there. Okay?’
Flynn and Liv aren’t really listening. They’re circling the quad bike, their eyes lit with excitement. Flynn climbs up onto the trailer, leans in, put his hands on the handlebars and gives the brakes an experimental squeeze.
‘Wanna have a go?’ he asks Liv.
‘Hell, yeah!’ Liv says.
Margot sees Sara sidle over to her daughter and hears her ask quietly, ‘Are you sure? You don’t have to.’
Liv swats Sara away. ‘Can you please not be so overprotective?’ she says in that way teenagers have. ‘I’m nearly eighteen. And yes, before you ask, Dad would let me.’
Margot watches as Sara takes a deep, slow breath.
Sara turns to Flynn. ‘Well, maybe wait till your dad’s reminded you how to use it. We don’t want any accidents.’
‘We’re in the middle of nowhere,’ Flynn says. ‘Like, what’s gonna happen?’
‘I don’t know. Roll-overs?’ Sara says. ‘Anyway, being in the middle of nowhere isn’t actually the best thing if something does happen.’
Sara’s anxiety surprises Margot. Apart from the thing about the seat belts on the first day, she’s come across as quite easy-going so far.
‘Don’t worry,’ Margot says. ‘Flynn’s been driving these since he was yay high.
’ She waves her hand towards her knees though obviously that’s an exaggeration.
In fact, she thinks he’s only done it once, and that was on a trip supervised by professionals.
But Flynn’s not an idiot and he’s got good spatial skills.
‘I wouldn’t ever forgive myself if anything happened,’ Sara says. ‘But, more importantly, neither would my ex.’
‘I get that,’ Margot says. ‘But we have to let them live a bit. Right? This is my Danish roots speaking.’
Guy’s voice booms across the campsite. ‘Who wants a drink? I’m parched!’
He strides towards the cool box, flurries of sand thrown up with each huge stride, and Margot has to admit, he does look magnificent.
He’s in his element: the endless sweep of sand, the battle to survive in an inhospitable landscape, Guy Forrest imposing his will on nature.
With a stab of bitterness, Margot hopes that he misses all this as much as she misses their life in Muscat.
‘G&Ts?’ he calls. ‘Wine? Kids, you want a beer or a Coke?’
‘Should we wait till after everyone’s driven that thing?’ Sara says, nodding towards the quad bike. ‘Just in case? I’m sorry, I can’t help it. It’s my job to be sensible.’
Guy laughs and pats her arm. ‘There’s no police in the desert. It’ll be fine.’
‘That’s not the point,’ Sara turns away.
Celine rummages in her bag and stands up brandishing a huge bottle of champagne like a trophy. ‘I brought this as my contribution. Shall we open it?’
‘A magnum? You absolute treasure,’ Guy says. ‘Why not?’
And so the bottle’s opened, sending a spurt into the air that lands with a hard splat on the sand. Celine splashes champagne into everyone’s glasses, but Margot puts her hand over hers.
‘Not for me. Thanks.’ She adores champagne and would have loved a glass if anyone else had brought it, but ‘absolute treasure’? She picks up the Thermos of double, maybe triple, gin and tonics she mixed at home and wonders if she can just stick a straw in it.
‘Suit yourself,’ Celine says. ‘Bottoms up!’
The others chink glasses and Liv and Flynn raise bottles of beer.
‘Cheers to a fantastic holiday,’ Guy says.
‘Cheers!’ everyone echoes.