Page 27 of You Lied First

M argot knows from the slow speed at which the quad bike engine is turning that something’s happened.

The sun’s completely disappeared, and a glorious rising moon lends the bushes sharp, black shadows as she stands at the edge of the campsite and peers into the gloom.

When she finally identifies the dark shape of the bike idling on the sand, she’s relieved to see there are still two figures on it.

‘Flynn!’ she calls as he comes into hearing distance. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Had a small accident,’ he says as he draws up.

‘Oh my God!’ Liv cries as she surges towards Flynn, but Margot is more analytical. She notes that neither is holding a broken limb at a funny angle, both of them appear to be conscious, and she can’t see any blood.

Celine climbs off the back of the bike and flops into a chair. ‘Fuck, Flynn! Talk about a wild ride!’

Margot’s eyes flick to Flynn in time to see him exchange the briefest of glances with Liv, who bites her lips together.

‘What happened?’ Guy asks. ‘Were you being an idiot? I told you to be careful.’

‘Most important thing,’ Sara interrupts, ‘are either of you hurt?’

‘I’m fine,’ Flynn says, but he’s rotating and stretching his neck as if checking it works properly.

‘We’ll live, won’t we?’ Celine says with a laugh. ‘What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, eh?’

‘What happened? Did you lose your balance?’ Margot asks Celine, thinking about the amount of alcohol Celine had necked before she got on. She’s never seen anyone drink faster, and that’s saying a lot given who she’s married to.

‘Margot!’ Guy snaps. ‘You can’t blame the victim!’

‘It was at the top of that huge dune,’ Celine says. ‘Verstappen here decided to do a ninety-degree turn and over we went! I mean …’ She shrugs as if it were obvious.

Guy looks carefully at Celine, his eyes travelling up and down her body as he scans for injuries. ‘Are you really okay? Nothing hurts? Head, neck, spine?’

He raises his hands as if he’s about to put them on her lean, tanned back to check, and Margot’s breath catches – but he stops himself in time.

Celine nods. ‘Yeah. Maybe a bit sore tomorrow but nothing a few painkillers won’t solve. I’m young. I bounce!’ She picks up the remains of her drink. ‘Cheers to that!’

‘As for you,’ Guy jabs his finger at Flynn. ‘What the hell were you playing at? Imagine the bike had overturned! Imagine we had a spinal injury – or worse – on our hands! Out here in the middle of nowhere! It would all be your fault! You can’t act the fool on these things, not with a passenger.’

‘Are you going to ask your son if he’s okay?’ Margot says.

Guy glares at her and she raises her eyebrows back, telling him silently to calm down. The ‘nice guy’ facade is slipping, as it so often does when he’s been drinking.

‘You’re all right, aren’t you?’ Guy says tersely.

Flynn flexes his neck again and rubs at the side of his head. ‘A bit sore, but nothing’s broken, so … yeah.’

‘Okay, great,’ says Guy. ‘It seems you got away with it. Right, let’s get on with the evening.’

‘Actually,’ Sara says, ‘head injuries aren’t always obvious, and necks are not something you should take chances with. Maybe we could drive to—’

She hasn’t even finished her sentence when Guy holds up his hand.

‘Nope. Stop right there. No one’s driving anywhere. We can’t. We’re in the middle of nowhere. We’ll never find the road in the dark and, if you’re thinking about going to a hospital, the closest one that’ll be covered on insurance is probably in Muscat.’

They all stare at Celine and Flynn for a moment. They really do look okay. Margot knows she would never forgive herself if there was a serious injury that they missed but, equally, she knows Guy is right.

‘I used to be the office First Aider,’ Sara says. ‘I mean, I’m not medically trained, but I know how to check for concussion if that helps.’

Margot nods. ‘I’d feel better if you do. Do you mind?’

So Sara peers into Flynn’s eyes then starts asking Celine about pain and stiffness. She checks her reflexes and asks her what day of the week it is, to which Celine responds, ‘President Clinton?’

For a moment, Sara looks appalled, then Celine roars with laughter and Sara slaps her playfully on the arm.

‘Okay, you’re all right! I think they’re both okay.’

‘Oh, come here, you fruitcake!’ Guy says, and wraps Celine in his arms and it’s then that Margot realises that maybe this was all deliberate.

She doesn’t believe Flynn would have taken a silly risk with a passenger, so she wonders if Celine threw herself off the back of the bike – onto a soft dune – deliberately.

But why? To garner sympathy with Guy? Really?

Margot doesn’t want to deal with this. She just has a few more days to get through and they’ll be back home and she’ll never have to see Celine Cremorne ever again.

‘Is the food ready?’ Celine asks.

‘Yes, everything’s done,’ Sara says. ‘Come on, before it gets cold.’

Guy releases Celine and claps his hands together.

‘Yes, let’s eat! We have enough food here to feed an army.’

At the thought of food, the spell is broken and the accident dismissed.

The evening carries on and Margot has to admit that once she’s eaten, she starts to relax.

Maybe she was overreacting about Celine.

It’s liberating to be out in the open – just them pitted against the environment trying to achieve some semblance of shelter and sustenance under the limitless sky.

And there’s something extra-special about eating honest food that you’ve prepared yourself, with your hands, in the open air.

Everything tastes extra-delicious. Maybe it’s gratitude, Margot thinks as she looks up at the stars.

Gratitude that’s ingrained in us since cavemen brought home a meal and the family gathered around to feast on it.

By the fire, Guy keeps the others entertained with stories and Margot watches as they all fall under the spell of his bonhomie raconteur act. What would they think if they saw the real Guy? The one she lives with at home?

The fire crackles and spits, then Guy opens yet another bottle of wine and dad-dances out from the tent with his mobile speaker.

As the moon rises higher and the stars twinkle down, they DJ their way through their phone playlists, dancing to their favourite songs from the eighties, nineties and noughties, the niggles that separate them temporarily forgotten.

Later, they all move closer to the fire and tell ghost stories till they peel off one by one to go to bed.

And, Margot thinks, despite everything, it actually is the most magical night.