Page 31 of The Retreat
‘Wait… Who was his partner?’ Talia asked.
‘Jade,’ Rhona said, pointing.
Jade came last, deliberately, emerging from the final stretch with her arms wide like a victorious gladiator. ‘I’m here to entertain, not compete!’ she announced.
Rebecca tapped her stopwatch and noted her time.
Talia stood and walked over, ‘Um, so…’
‘Give me aminute,’ Rebecca said irritably and then quickly slapped on a smile. ‘But I love the energy.’ Talia huffed and went back to Rhona.
After an excruciating wait that was probably only about three minutes, Rebecca picked up her megaphone. ‘Now, in first place… Daniel and Marcus!’
Daniel grabbed Marcus’s face and screamed, ‘YEEESSSS!’ right into it.
Talia tried not to glare.
‘And in second place, Talia and Rhona,’
Rhona smiled. ‘I’m happy with that.’
Talia smiled back. But she was not in accord. To be beaten by fucking Daniel... this wasn’t good.
Then things got worse.
‘And now that you’ve all warmed up with yourwork buddies…’ Rebecca called out cheerily. ‘It’s time for round two! But this time, we’re doing the course again with yourpartners! Just for fun!’
Talia froze.
There were groans, laughter, and the rustle of people glancing around for their romantic plus-ones.
‘And here’s me, a widow. Guess I’m sitting this one out with a coffee,’ Rhona muttered with a grin, walking off.
Talia saw Imogen walking over to her with the look of a woman stepping up to the gallows.
‘We need to nail this,’ Talia told her right away.
‘Why? Is there a cash prize?’ Imogen replied wryly.
‘Alex…’
‘Sure, yeah, got it. Umm, I can do this. I can definitely do this,’ she said. But Talia knew the tone of a woman psyching herself up. It didn’t fill her with confidence.
Talia needed to win this. She didn’t buy the fun thing at all. This would be watched. And if she could make second place with a widow in her sixties, it might look bad if she couldn’t beat Daniel with her younger, outdoorsy ‘girlfriend.’
Twenty
It was the kind of course Imogen had found hilarious from the outside. Contrived obstacles, muddy camaraderie, some poor sod dislocating their shoulder on a rope swing. Now she was in it, soaked and scraped and irritable.
They were halfway through. She was doing her best, but her best was crap, she knew.
She considered herself relatively graceful, for the most part. But the course took her straight back to the smell of wet tarmac and the memory of Mrs Keane, her sadistic PE teacher, a woman built like the Trunchbull and twice as furious. She’d always gunned for Imogen, screaming things like, ‘LAKE! I’ve seen more athleticism from a soggy biscuit!’ Every time that voice rang out, Imogen could feel her muscles turn to pudding.
It was that same useless panic now, flooding her chest, making her hands fumble even as her brain yelled,You can do this.
She adjusted her grip on the rope net, trying to climb with some semblance of rhythm. She was strong enough, but strength wasn’t helping her now. Her hands were fast but clumsy. Her feet landed slightly off each time. She was all force and no finesse, and the net swung wildly under her as a result.
Talia had already reached the top and was crouching, waiting. She didn’t say anything, which somehow made it worse.Imogen scrambled over beside her, breath uneven but not winded. Just annoyed. At herself. At this ridiculous course. At the awareness that Talia was watching her, finding her wanting.
