away to left and right, quickly vanishing.
Tara switched the light off again, plunging them back into darkness.
The wall wouldn’t be difficult to scale, though both of them were aching and bone-weary, but at least it was a solid fixture, and it broke the surreal monotony of this place – not that it was something to actually be reassured by. Hundreds of miles of dry-stone walls snaked across the Lake District National Park, through the lower valleys, up the teetering fell-sides, across the desolate tops of ridges and plateaux. Sure, it was a sign that civilisation wasn’t too far away – as the crow flew, or if you were on horseback. Not so much if you were a tired, and increasingly cold and disoriented foot-slogger.
‘So do we climb over it and keep going?’ Tara wondered.
‘Why?’ Jane asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why climb over it? Why not follow it?’
‘It won’t lead to a farmhouse, or anything like that.’
‘At least we’ll know we aren’t walking in fucking circles.’
‘Jane …’ Tara tried to remain patient. It served no purpose to stand here sniping at each other in the murk. ‘Look … people don’t walk around in circles, okay? Not in real life. That only happens in the movies.’
‘Oh, Jesus Christ … we’re lost in the middle of nowhere, and you’re giving me Halliwell’s fucking Film Guide.’
‘Jane, come on …’
‘I’ve got a film for you, Tara.
The Shining
. Remember that … when he got lost, and in the morning he was dead, covered in ice?’
‘That was up in the mountains.’
‘
We’re
in the fucking mountains!’
‘Not in Colorado.’
‘Look, Tara … below zero is below zero, whether it speaks with a Yank accent or Cumbrian.’
‘Jane, panicking won’t help.’
‘I’ll tell you what … let’s get over this blessed wall. We have to do something soon, or I’m going to smack you one.’
Jane’s voice had taken on a new, shrill intensity. Tara imagined that, were she to switch her phone on again, she’d see eyes like polished marbles straining from her friend’s long, boyish face; the skin stretched like shiny parchment over those unattractive, hard-angled bones.
That was when they heard the whistling.
Or rather, Tara heard it.
‘Wait,
shhh
!’ she said, fumbling at Jane’s arm.
‘Don’t shush me, Tara!’
‘No,
listen
.’
Because she was in such a state that she’d grab at any straw, no matter how slender, Jane allowed her friend to speak. But of course, she heard nothing herself.
‘Yeah, great … the silence that signifies impending doom.’
‘No, I heard something.’
‘What?’
‘Listen!’
They fell quiet again, and now indeed there was something – a tune of some sort. At first it was very faint, as though being carried on the breeze. Except that there was no breeze. And the longer they listened, the clearer it became. Incredible though it seemed, someone relatively close by
was
whistling. Both of them recognised the tune, though neither could initially put a name to it, and now they were too excited to try.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Jane said. ‘Where’s it coming from?’
‘Over there, I think.’ Tara indicated the other side of the wall.
‘Hello!’ Jane shouted at the top of her voice. ‘Hello, is someone there?’
‘Jane, don’t,’ Tara said.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I don’t … nothing. It’s just silly.’ The misgivings Tara had briefly felt, about how vulnerable they were trekking through this endless gloom, had returned; suddenly, pinpointing their exact location seemed like a bad idea. But surely that was folly – a fear born of some ancient animal instinct, whereas logic advised that if there was someone out there, they should draw attention to themselves as soon as possible. ‘I just thought …’
‘
Shhh!
’ Now it was Jane’s turn to hit her friend’s arm. Whoever the whistler was, he was persisting with it. He sounded closer, and yes, it
did
seem as if he was
Tara switched the light off again, plunging them back into darkness.
The wall wouldn’t be difficult to scale, though both of them were aching and bone-weary, but at least it was a solid fixture, and it broke the surreal monotony of this place – not that it was something to actually be reassured by. Hundreds of miles of dry-stone walls snaked across the Lake District National Park, through the lower valleys, up the teetering fell-sides, across the desolate tops of ridges and plateaux. Sure, it was a sign that civilisation wasn’t too far away – as the crow flew, or if you were on horseback. Not so much if you were a tired, and increasingly cold and disoriented foot-slogger.
‘So do we climb over it and keep going?’ Tara wondered.
‘Why?’ Jane asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why climb over it? Why not follow it?’
‘It won’t lead to a farmhouse, or anything like that.’
‘At least we’ll know we aren’t walking in fucking circles.’
‘Jane …’ Tara tried to remain patient. It served no purpose to stand here sniping at each other in the murk. ‘Look … people don’t walk around in circles, okay? Not in real life. That only happens in the movies.’
‘Oh, Jesus Christ … we’re lost in the middle of nowhere, and you’re giving me Halliwell’s fucking Film Guide.’
‘Jane, come on …’
‘I’ve got a film for you, Tara.
The Shining
. Remember that … when he got lost, and in the morning he was dead, covered in ice?’
‘That was up in the mountains.’
‘
We’re
in the fucking mountains!’
‘Not in Colorado.’
‘Look, Tara … below zero is below zero, whether it speaks with a Yank accent or Cumbrian.’
‘Jane, panicking won’t help.’
‘I’ll tell you what … let’s get over this blessed wall. We have to do something soon, or I’m going to smack you one.’
Jane’s voice had taken on a new, shrill intensity. Tara imagined that, were she to switch her phone on again, she’d see eyes like polished marbles straining from her friend’s long, boyish face; the skin stretched like shiny parchment over those unattractive, hard-angled bones.
That was when they heard the whistling.
Or rather, Tara heard it.
‘Wait,
shhh
!’ she said, fumbling at Jane’s arm.
‘Don’t shush me, Tara!’
‘No,
listen
.’
Because she was in such a state that she’d grab at any straw, no matter how slender, Jane allowed her friend to speak. But of course, she heard nothing herself.
‘Yeah, great … the silence that signifies impending doom.’
‘No, I heard something.’
‘What?’
‘Listen!’
They fell quiet again, and now indeed there was something – a tune of some sort. At first it was very faint, as though being carried on the breeze. Except that there was no breeze. And the longer they listened, the clearer it became. Incredible though it seemed, someone relatively close by
was
whistling. Both of them recognised the tune, though neither could initially put a name to it, and now they were too excited to try.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Jane said. ‘Where’s it coming from?’
‘Over there, I think.’ Tara indicated the other side of the wall.
‘Hello!’ Jane shouted at the top of her voice. ‘Hello, is someone there?’
‘Jane, don’t,’ Tara said.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I don’t … nothing. It’s just silly.’ The misgivings Tara had briefly felt, about how vulnerable they were trekking through this endless gloom, had returned; suddenly, pinpointing their exact location seemed like a bad idea. But surely that was folly – a fear born of some ancient animal instinct, whereas logic advised that if there was someone out there, they should draw attention to themselves as soon as possible. ‘I just thought …’
‘
Shhh!
’ Now it was Jane’s turn to hit her friend’s arm. Whoever the whistler was, he was persisting with it. He sounded closer, and yes, it
did
seem as if he was
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