‘Hungry,' said Dan as they made their way over to the car.
Twenty minutes later, she realised where they were headed. ‘Are we going to The Leap?'
‘It's possible.' Dan grinned at her. ‘Go on then, you know the way.'
They'd almost reached Hestacombe, a village to the west of Stanton Langley. Lily duly turned left and drove along the narrow farm track.
‘Oh my God, I can't believe we're back here,' she marvelled. ‘I haven't thought about this place for so long. Remember that summer? What if there's still a bull in the field? If there is, I'm not risking it.' She raised her eyebrows at Dan's still-plastered foot. ‘And you definitely can't.'
‘There's no bull. I checked.' Two days ago, in a taxi on his way to a physiotherapy appointment in Cheltenham, he'd spotted the turn-off and asked the driver to make a quick detour down the track. The bull was long gone, the field currently empty.
Thank God.
At the end of the overgrown track, Lily parked on the verge. Hauling the cool box out of the boot of the car, she opened the gate to allow Dan through, then closed it behind them.
‘This is exciting.' She grinned at him as he limped beside her along the perimeter of the field.
‘I thought you'd like it.' Dan was pleased with his idea to bring her here. ‘You deserve a break after the week you've had.'
He was still slow, though getting better at moving along as the broken bone in his foot had begun to heal. It took them ten minutes to make their way in single file along the stony path that led down through the woods to the water's edge.
The trees thinned out, dried grass stalks whipped their legs as they approached their destination, and they finally reached the sun-dappled grassy clearing, with Hestacombe Lake stretching out directly in front of them.
‘Wow,' said Lily.
‘I know.' Dan stood beside her and together they surveyed the magical view. The sky was pale cobalt, the water reflecting it a pewter-tinted shade of blue. On the other side of the lake stood the picturesque village of Hestacombe. There were holiday homes visible amongst the trees, and a small artificial beach that had been constructed by the owner of Hestacombe House. They could see several people on the beach; a couple more were swimming and splashing around, and birds were darting and swooping through the still summer air. That was the popular side of the lake, close to a road and easily accessible to all.
This side was the better one, though; it was the secret side most people would have no idea how to reach. A group of them from school had discovered it one chilly day during the Easter holidays, and made it their own. As summer had approached and the days had grown longer and warmer, they'd taken to cycling over here most weekends, hanging out together, playing music, drinking illicit bottles of cider and inventing games to entertain themselves. Once the summer holidays had arrived, it had practically become a home from home.
‘Nothing's changed. It's exactly the same,' Lily marvelled. She put the cool box down on the grassy bank, opened it and shook out the thin blanket. Once the food had been arranged to her liking, they sat down and Dan unscrewed the cap on the bottle of wine he'd packed, along with two acrylic tumblers.
‘Here you go, you can have one glass.' He poured and handed the first one to Lily.
‘Cheers,' she said when his tumbler was filled too. ‘This is a luxury we didn't have back then. Posh wine in glasses.'
Dan grinned. ‘We used to take turns swigging Blackthorn cider out of a plastic bottle.'
‘I always was a classy bird.' Lily tossed a cherry tomato high into the air, caught it in her mouth and crunched it in half with her teeth.
‘See? You still are.'
‘I know. Sophisticated, me.' She clapped a hand to her chest. ‘Through and through.'
God, he loved her so much. For a moment Dan found himself winded, unable to speak. He really did love everything about her, from her dancing brown eyes to the way those spirals of tawny-blond hair bounced over her smooth, tanned shoulders, to her unfailing ability to laugh at herself.
He leaned back with his legs stretched out in front of him and watched the surface of the water shimmer as iridescent dragonflies hovered and danced over it, inches above the surface. He could so clearly remember the time Lily had been floating on her back in the water with her eyes closed and he'd swum silently up behind her. Just as he'd been about to surprise her, a huge dragonfly had darted in front of his face so suddenly that he'd let out a yell and tried to bat it away in a panic, like a complete wuss. Lily, in hysterics of laughter, had never let him forget it. Ever since, during quiet moments, it had become something of a standing joke to blurt out, ‘Dragonfly, waaaah!'
Now, idly nudging his leg with her bare foot, she pointed half a Scotch egg at the dancing dragonflies and said, ‘Do you remember that time you-'
‘Yes, I do.' He rolled his eyes. ‘Thanks so much for reminding me.'
‘Ha, that was hilarious.' Lily flailed her arms, miming his abject horror. ‘You were such a big girl's blouse.'
‘So you've told me, three or four hundred times.'
She laughed. ‘Some things improve with repetition. Oh my God, look! I can't believe it's still there … '
Lily was lying on her back now, pointing up into the branches of the huge sycamore tree behind them. Following the direction of her index finger, Dan saw the remains of the old grey rope fastened around one of the thicker branches overhead. Once it had been five metres long; now only a short length with tattered ends remained.
‘It seemed like such a good idea at the time.' Dan was rueful; it had been his idea, after all.
‘Oh, come on, it was a brilliant idea.' Lily turned her head sideways to look at him. ‘What happened to Kyle wasn't your fault, was it!'
Chapter 40
Wasn't it? Dan's mouth was dry. Apart from anything else, he'd been the one who had bought the rope from the hardware store, carried it all the way down here and climbed the tree in order to tie it securely around that branch. He'd done it so they could take a running jump from the top of the slope, swing out over the water like Tarzan, then launch themselves through the air and into the lake. He'd gone first to test it out, and everyone else had followed his lead. It had been the highlight of that long, hot summer, providing countless hours of fun and resulting in their meeting place being renamed The Leap.
They would have carried on doing it too, if Kyle hadn't had his accident, making a catastrophic error whilst attempting that double somersault.
Instead of releasing his grip on the outward swing, Kyle had held on too long and let go on the return one, but had gone for the double somersault anyway. Everyone had seen him cartwheel through the air then land on the very edge of the lake in less than three inches of water.
The sound of him landing – it had been a hideous combination of watery splash and bone-crunching thud – was something Dan knew he'd never forget.
‘It was an accident,' said Lily. ‘Poor Kyle. Scary at the time, though.'
It had been bloody scary. Kyle had lain there on his side, white-faced and clearly in tremendous pain. It had taken twenty-five minutes for the paramedics to locate and reach them, but it had seemed like hours. Dan had knelt in the water beside him the whole time, not daring to move Kyle's crumpled body. Instead, he'd kept the injured boy's head slightly elevated so the water didn't flow into his mouth.
Once the paramedics had arrived, they'd strapped Kyle on to a stretcher and with some difficulty managed to carry him back up the hill to the waiting ambulance. The next day the rest of them discovered he'd sustained multiple fractures to his pelvis.
Kyle had spent the next couple of weeks in Cheltenham General Hospital and the remainder of that summer recuperating. His parents had then relocated to somewhere in the north of England, so he never did return to their school and none of them ever heard from him again.
‘I wonder what he's doing now,' Lily mused. She pulled a face. ‘I wonder if he made a full recovery.'
‘Of course he did.'
‘You don't know that. He might be hobbling around on sticks. Or in a wheelchair.'
‘Don't say that.' Dan felt sick.
‘He could be, though,' said Lily. ‘We just don't know. Poor Kyle, he was a funny little thing, wasn't he? Always so desperate to fit in with the rest of us, but he never really did. God, and his mother was scary.'