The Students of Barrenmoor Ridge Page 8

  The tent was a Hilleberg Jannu two-man dome with an extended front flap to give extra room and came with the groundsheet attached. It was also light to carry and easy to pitch. When he first heard it was on its way, Liam had assumed his dad had found it second-hand on eBay, but when he unpacked it, set it up in the back garden and later, researched it online, he was staggered to learn it sold for just under a thousand pounds and was used by professional mountaineers in winter.

  That was typical of his father, generous to the point of embarrassment, something Liam put down to his being a single parent and Liam an only child. It was as if his dad was always trying to compensate himself for the lack of a wife, or make up for Liam’s lack of a mother. They had spoken about his dad’s overkill through the years, first when Liam was laughed at in prep school for always having the latest trend in anything from trainers to overcoats, and later when he joined the grammar school at thirteen carrying a briefcase rather than a battered backpack like everyone else. Even his piano teacher found it hard to repress amazement when Liam complained about the upright in the music room because he had been brought up playing a baby grand from the day he showed an interest. He wanted for nothing when it came to material wealth, but when it came to parenting, money replaced affection, and although his father wasn’t strict or domineering, he was generally absent. Even when they were together, his dad always seemed to be elsewhere, but he was with him as soon as Liam and Casper started putting the tent together. Always the best for his only son, and for once, Liam was grateful, not ashamed; the temperature was dropping quickly, and the tent was known for its insulation.

  It was also easy to erect. Liam had seen the video several times and called instructions to Casper as they worked together, first laying out the tent and securing it with pegs which slipped easily into the damp ground, banging them in with stones when necessary.

  That done, he passed Casper the first of the poles while he took the second.

  ‘You know how to do this, right?’

  ‘Don’t sweat, Mozart,’ Casper called from the other side. ‘We had to design one in physics. It’s all about tensile strength and equations.’

  ‘No, actually. It’s about fitting one section to the next along the elastic. The theory has been done for you.’ His section was already in place while Casper, hampered by his thick gloves, was struggling to fit the first length into the second.

  ‘Yeah, okay, show-off,’ he said, his smile unwavering through his concentration. ‘This isn’t a competition.’

  They worked well together, and even when the Flexi-poles popped out of their housing because the groundsheet wasn’t stretched tight enough and they had to start again, they didn’t bicker. When Casper tried to thread the poles through the clips rather than hook them on afterwards, and Liam had to correct him, he only said, ‘Oops, sorry,’ and started again, happy to let his friend lead.

  The wind buffeted the rising structure as they pulled the guy ropes taut, and at one point, they both had to grip the same peg while tightening the guy. Pressed close together, Liam was reminded of that time in the hall with Jason, but the cheeks touching his as they grunted against the pull of the flysheet belonged to Casper, and there were no sexual overtones. It was hard to focus on anything but the task, and even when Casper leant across, and Liam had to support his body weight over his lap, the only thrill was that his best friend was comfortable enough to be physical and not read anything into their proximity. He briefly wondered how Casper would feel when they were lying just as close inside, and he made his confession, but the flysheet was quickly secured, and they separated to deal with the front extension and double-check the pegs.

  Standing back to admire their work, Casper said, ‘That was easy.’

  ‘Now comes the hard part,’ Liam said, and when Casper threw him a quizzical look, added, ‘You’ve got to cook.’

  ‘Ha! No problem there. Noodles, soup, bread, tea and chocolate sound alright?’

  ‘In one tin?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t bring the best china. Give me fifteen minutes.’

  ‘I’ll set up the lamp and sleeping bags.’

  Liam unzipped the entrance and crawled inside, dragging his rucksack afterwards and leaving Casper to unpack the cooking equipment out on the grass. The tent smelt of nylon and newness, the ground was lumpy, but they’d checked for stones, and Liam was able to move about on his knees as he hung the battery lamp, the heaviest item in his bag.

  He had just bundled his sleeping bag to one end when Casper poked his head in.

  ‘Nice,’ he said, as Liam crawled around to face him. ‘Going to be very intimate. Is it bigger than the ones we had in Wales?’

  ‘About the same,’ Liam said. ‘They were three-man, allegedly, but that didn’t stop Ashley rolling on top of me.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Casper shuffled into the vestibule and knelt, pulling off his gloves. ‘You should have tried sharing with the two Steves. It was all dirty jokes and farting as I remember, and no-one slept much. If you had Ash rolling on you, how did you get on with Jason?’

  Liam was shocked. What was that meant to mean? Was he still fishing for information?

  ‘Don’t get you,’ he said, taking Casper’s gloves and putting them in a side pocket on the tent wall.

  ‘If Ash was rolling over you—in his sleep, I imagine—I just wondered what Jason was like to share with.’

  ‘Same as anyone else.’

  ‘Only I heard he can be a pain when he starts talking. Doesn’t know when to shut up.’

  ‘Don’t remember that. We were all pretty knackered after the day, the hike and trying to get ourselves fed.’

  ‘Oh, right. Must have been odd sharing with Jason, though.’

  These were very strange statements.

  ‘What are you getting at, Cass?’ Liam stopped unpacking and sat, crossing his legs.

  ‘Not getting at anything. Just interested.’

  ‘Must have been strange sharing with the two Steves,’ Liam said, defensive for a reason he couldn’t place. ‘I don’t see your point.’

  ‘They did talk a lot,’ Casper admitted. ‘Mainly about Jason.’

  ‘Why is he suddenly such an issue?’

  ‘Not an issue. Just something to talk about.’

  Liam pulled a face and shook his head, trying to get Casper to explain without having to ask. Casper seemed happy to do so and made himself comfortable at the entrance.

  ‘Thing is,’ he said. ‘Steve One said some pretty odd things about Jason that night, and we wondered how you other two had coped being in there with him.’

  ‘Odd things?’ A creeping feeling told Liam he knew where this was heading.

  ‘You know, gay things.’

  Liam shook his head again, but remained silent. If Casper was determined to go down this route, he could lead. If he forced the point, or actually asked the question, Liam would tell him to wait until they’d eaten and had settled in for the night. The time to come out was approaching, but half in and half out of the tent, cold and hungry, was not it.

  Casper hadn’t explained, so Liam prompted. ‘So, you three made up stories about Jason. So what?’

  ‘Nothing was made up,’ Casper said quite casually. ‘Steve Two had it on good authority.’

  ‘Had what? What are you getting at Cass?’ Liam’s heart beat faster, and his skin tingled.

  ‘What Jason likes to do.’

  The thought of putting Casper out of the misery or curiosity almost reached Liam’s lips, but it was knocked aside by common sense. Not until Liam was ready.

  ‘And what does Jason like to do?’

  Casper cracked his knuckles. ‘Never mind,’ he said and started to back out.

  ‘No, hang on, Cass. What are you getting at?’

  Casper let out a long, slow
sigh and looked away, examining the inside of the extension. Averting his gaze, he said, ‘That Jason’s gay.’

  It was on the tip of Liam’s tongue to point out the truth; that Jason probably wasn’t, but did play for the team when he felt like it. He almost admitted that he’d been wound up and let down by the guy on more occasions than he’d been led on and rewarded, but again, that was all for later.

  ‘And what if he is?’

  Casper didn’t respond, and the brief silence allowed another thought to slip into Liam’s mind. This time, he voiced it.

  ‘So,’ he said. ‘Did you and the Steve’s get up to anything like that?’

  Two could play Casper’s game, but Liam knew it was a dumb and empty question.

  ‘Er, no,’ was the defensive reply, said as though Casper was angry at Liam for even considering it.

  ‘There you are then.’

  ‘Why?’ Casper turned to glare, and his face was tense, his eyes narrow. ‘Why do you ask me that?’

  ‘Well, you were insinuating about us, why shouldn’t I insinuate back? I don’t get what you’re trying to do, Cass.’

  ‘I just came to see what this stupid tent looks like and make a fucking conversation, malaka,’ Cass swore and backed out, zipping up the door in one angry swipe.

  ‘Oi!’ Liam shouted. ‘Don’t take it out on me,’ and whispered, ‘Whatever it is.’

  Was he trying to force Liam to confess he was gay? Did he know about him and Jason? Was he trying to steer the conversation to himself and what might have happened with the two Steves? If that was the case, Liam considered it pointless. The Steves both had girlfriends, and Casper was straight, so it was highly unlikely anything went on there. Besides, Casper had never shown any interest in anything sexual, not in any direction. He never cracked derogatory jokes about girls like the Steves did, he stayed well away from any laddish conversation about sexual conquests, and if one did start unchecked in the sixth form common room, he moved away and buried his head in a book.

  On the other hand, he wasn’t homophobic or racist, he was just Casper. Distant most of the time, quiet, intriguing and at times like this, bloody annoying.

  Liam let it go. Cass was probably tired from the walk, and as soon as they’d eaten something hot and settled in, they’d talk it out, or change the subject completely and talk about other things. For example, what Casper had come away to forget.

  The tent was unzipped, and Casper’s face reappeared. It was wet, and his appearance was accompanied by the sound of rain splattering the flysheet.

  ‘Lee?’ he said, worried. ‘We have a problem.’

  Liam immediately thought Casper knew his secret. Somehow, he knew what Liam had done with Jason, and because of it, they could no longer be friends.

  ‘What?’ he asked, trying to ignore his paranoia. Hearing the rain, he calmed. ‘You can cook under the extension. That’s what it’s there for.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Casper said. ‘I got the wrong bag.’

  The words made no sense as Liam tried to find the euphemism in the word “bag.” Casper meant he had got the wrong end of the stick and was apologising for assuming Liam was gay. No, he didn’t mean that; he meant something worse.

  ‘The wrong bag?’ In repeating the words, they fell into place along with the implications, but even so, Liam needed clarification. ‘What do you mean?’

  Casper crawled in, dragging his rucksack behind, and knelt opposite with the bag between them. Pulling out a length of rope, he said, ‘This isn’t mine.’ Another length followed, and then came a few clothes. ‘I must have picked up the wrong one at the café.’

  ‘And you’ve only just noticed?’

  ‘Didn’t need to open it until now.’

  Casper pulled out more clothes, and they smelt of unwashed laundry. They were old, stretched, battered, and not things that Casper would be seen dead wearing.

  Liam immediately began unloading his own, thinking practically and knowing the first job was to see what supplies they had.

  ‘What was in it?’

  ‘Oh, nothing important,’ Casper replied, unpacking more rags. ‘Stove, cans, water and most of the food. Plus my spare clothes and sleeping bag. You know, things we can do without.’ He wasn’t laughing. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Nothing we can do,’ Liam said. ‘It’s dark. Too far to go back. We’ll have to wait until morning, then backtrack and see if yours is still there.’

  ‘Who goes hiking with this shit?’ Casper’s annoyance with his mistake was turning to anger, and the crap coming out of his bag was thrown to the floor. ‘Stinks like scata. Nothing we can use. I’m a fucking idiot.’

  ‘It’s okay, Cass,’ Liam said, pausing in his search. ‘Don’t worry, it’s only one night.’

  ‘Of course, it’s not okay,’ Casper growled back. ‘I’ve fucked up.’

  ‘Easy mistake. It’s their fault for making everyone dump their bags in the same place. Bet it happens all the time. We’ll swap them tomorrow.’

  ‘What if it’s not there?’

  ‘I’ve got money. We can buy more stuff.’

  ‘Not the point!’ Casper threw the bag to one side. ‘There was something in…’ Breaking off, he grabbed the rucksack again and this time, tipped it upside down spilling the remaining contents. ‘Not even a Mars bar. Fuck!’

  ‘Cass, calm down, mate.’ Liam touched his friend’s arm, but it was yanked away.

  Casper let out a string of Greek that could only have been obscene and kicked the pile of clothes.

  ‘Jesus, Cass. Let it go.’ Liam had never seen him behave aggressively and it was an unnerving sight that reinforced yesterday’s thought that he didn’t know Casper as well as he imagined. ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘Stop saying that, malaka!’ Casper instinctively tried to stand, and Liam had to grab him before he pulled the tent from its pegs.

  ‘Sit down.’

  ‘I’ve fucked up.’

  ‘No, you haven’t. It’s only one night. I’ve got biscuits.’

  ‘That’s not going to keep me warm. It’s freezing in here. We’ve got nothing to drink…’

  ‘Stop it…’

  Casper ripped off his hat and threw it to the back of the tent. ‘And you want to get over the hill and see that place tomorrow. We can’t now. I’ve fucked up your birthday. I’m a bloody useless poustis malaka…’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’ It did, and a lot, but Liam wasn’t going to add to his friend’s agony.

  ‘It matters to you, so it matters to me,’ Casper said.

  ‘That’s kind of you to say, but really, it’s not a problem.’

  ‘Ah, you don’t understand.’ Casper spat the words like an accusation. ‘You don’t bloody care.’

  ‘What?’

  This was getting out of hand, and Liam couldn’t think why Casper should be so upset. ‘We’ll get up early, go down and find it. If we set your alarm, we can be there before it opens…’

  ‘No, we can’t. My phone was in it.’

  ‘I’ve got mine.’ Liam tried to sound positive, but as soon as the words were out, they sounded selfish and had to be changed. ‘I mean, yours will be safe. Don’t worry.’

  Casper glared at him and kicked the scattered clothes, not once, but over again, forcing Liam to back off. Best to let him get it out of his Mediterranean system, he thought. He’d calm down.

  Casper didn’t just calm down, he suddenly stopped moving completely, and Liam feared he was falling into a sulk.

  ‘What’s this?’ Casper grappled among the debris, picked up a Ziplock bag, and dangled it between thumb and forefinger.

  ‘Bloody hell.’ Liam knew exactly what it was and became nauseous. ‘Who goes climbing with that kind of stuff?’

  Casper dropped it as t
hough it had burnt him and stared at Liam.

  ‘Just put it back,’ Liam said, trying to think practically. ‘Pack the thing and leave it under the flysheet,’ he added, scrambling for the clothes and shoving them into the rucksack. ‘We’ll say we didn’t open it. Knew it wasn’t ours when we saw the ropes. They were on top, right?’

  Despite his olive skin, Casper had paled, and he still hadn’t moved.

  ‘Put it back, Cass,’ Liam repeated, but again, was ignored.

  ‘I’m so fucking stupid.’ The words were quieter this time, and Casper slumped.

  ‘Don’t go on about it.’

  Liam took the bag of drugs and examined it. There were three smaller bags inside, two filled with tablets of various colours, and another packed with white powder. This wasn’t the property of a casual user, and the thought of running into whoever had Casper’s rucksack and convincing them they’d made an accidental swap was unnerving.

  ‘We don’t say anything about this to anyone,’ Liam said. ‘Promise?’

  Casper had fallen into sulky silence but nodded. Once the rucksack was repacked, he took it from Liam and put it outside in the extension, shoving it to one side before slowly zipping up the tent.

  ‘At least I’ve got this,’ Liam said, putting on a smile and holding a toilet roll in Casper’s face. ‘All is not lost.’

  ‘That’s not going to keep me warm,’ Casper complained, sitting with his legs crossed.

  At least he wasn’t shouting, and his colour was returning, but with it, came shivering and he rubbed his arms, complaining that his jacket was useless.

  Liam wanted to say something about their friendship keeping them warm, but such soppy comments weren’t appropriate, and he thought practically instead.