Shopaholic and Sister
Page 116

“Jess… this is for you,” I say, pulling it out. “I came to your house to give it to you.”
I hand Jess the little blue bag. Slowly she unties it and tips the silver Tiffany bean with its thin chain out onto her hand.
“It’s a necklace,” I explain. “I’ve got the same one — look.”
“Becky.” Jess looks stunned. “It’s… it’s really…”
For an awful moment I think she’s going to say unsuitable or inappropriate.
“Fab,” she says at last. “It’s fab. I love it. Thank you.”
She fastens the chain around her neck and I survey her with delight. It really suits her! What’s a bit weird, though, is that something about her face seems different. It’s kind of changed shape. Almost as if…
“Oh my God!” I exclaim in astonishment. “You’re smiling!”
“No, I’m not,” says Jess at once, and I can see her trying to stop — but she can’t. Her smile broadens, and she lifts a hand to finger the bean.
“Yes, you are!” I can’t help laughing. “You so are! I’ve found your weak point. You are a Tiffany girl at heart.”
“No, I’m not!”
“You are! I knew it! You know, Jess—”
But whatever I was about to say is drowned out by the howling wind, as, with no warning, the gale whips up one entire side of the tent.
“Oh my God!” I shriek, as drenching rain lands in my face. “Oh my God! The tent! Get it!”
“Shit!” Jess is hauling the flapping canvas down again and desperately trying to anchor it, but with another huge gust it blows right out of her grasp. It billows like a sailing ship, then disappears down the mountainside.
“What are we going to do now?” I have to shout just to be heard above the noise.
“Jesus Christ.” She rubs rain off her face. “OK. We have to find shelter. Can you get up?”
She helps me to my feet, and I can’t help crying out. My ankle is total agony.
“We’ll have to make for those rocks,” Jess says, gesturing through the rain. “Lean on me.”
The pair of us start half limping, half shuffling up the muddy slope, gradually getting into an odd kind of rhythm. I’m gritting my teeth against the pain, willing myself not to make a fuss.
“Will anyone come to rescue us?” I manage between steps.
“Unlikely. We haven’t been out long enough.” Jess pauses. “OK. You need to get up this steep bit. Hold on to me.”
Somehow I make it up the rocky incline, aware of Jess’s strong grip holding me up. God, she’s in good condition. She could easily have climbed down out of the rain, it occurs to me. She could be safe and warm at home now.
“Thanks for helping me,” I say gruffly, as we start on our shuffle again. “Thanks for staying with me.”
“ ’S OK,” she says, without missing a beat.
The rain is billowing into my face, almost choking me. My head is starting to whirl again, and my ankle is excruciating. But I have to keep going. I can’t let Jess down.
Suddenly I hear a noise through the rain. But I must be imagining it. Or it’s the wind. It can’t be real…
“Hang on.” Jess stiffens. “What’s that?”
We both listen. It is. It’s real.
The real chopper-chopper sound of a helicopter.
I look up — and lights are dimly approaching through the sleeting rain.
“Help!” I scream, and wave my arms frantically. “Here!”
“Here!” Jess yells, and thrusts her torch beam up, moving it about in the gloom. “We’re here! Help!”
The helicopter hovers above us for a few moments, then, to my dismay, it moves on.
“Didn’t… they see us?” I gasp.
“I don’t know.” Jess looks taut and anxious. “Hard to tell. They wouldn’t land here anyway. They’d land on the ridge at the top and come down by foot.”
We both stand motionless for a moment, but the helicopter doesn’t return.
“OK,” says Jess at last. “Let’s keep going. At least the rocks will shelter us from the wind.”
We start moving again, as before. But this time all my drive seems to have gone. I just feel exhausted. I’m drenched, and cold, and I have absolutely no reserves of energy left. We’re inching up the slope with a painful slowness, heads together, arms locked around each other, both panting and gasping as rain hits us in the face.
“Wait.” I stop still. “I can hear something.” I clutch Jess, craning my neck.