Brenda looks around at the others. Lucy and James are already picking up their bags. James hands Amelia hers. Tiggy and Giles are cuddled up, leaning against the wall of the visitor centre; his head is dipped, so Brenda can’t see if he’s whispering to his girlfriend or if they’re kissing. Scott is standing on the rough path that leads to the beach, hands on hips, looking out at the sea. No one seems bothered about Tiggy’s outburst. No one seems bothered about whether Amelia is meant to be here or not.
No one seems bothered that they might be getting streamed on some TV show, all around the world.
Money, she thinks. It’s the only explanation. This is why they’re bound by the NDA, even among themselves. Everyone here has been offered a lot of money.
But what for?
‘Right then,’ she mutters to herself. It’s only a day . . . and who knows what it might bring? She squints into the harsh brightness of the sun.
‘Best get on with it.’
Tiggy
T - 18
Once everyone has collected their bag and sorted themselves with sunscreen, hats and sunglasses, they head off together as a group. Tiggy had assumed that they would each be following the instructions from their own trackers, but inside their bags they’d all had one piece of paper, telling them to follow the arrows for clues. Paper! How retro.
The first arrow – painted onto a flag like you usually see on the holes at a golf course – is to the side of the visitor centre, pointing up a sandy track. The track is overgrown in places, and the plants and brush growing either side are not like anything she has seen before. She’s not much of a hiker, and she’s never been anywhere like this. Not that she can recall anyway. The landscape is a mix of sand dunes and luscious green foliage, and as the path gently inclines, the vastness of the sea comes into focus. A deep blue with sparkling diamonds of sunlight bouncing off the waves.
‘I think we’re somewhere in the Med,’ she announces. ‘Look at the colour of the sea.’ Giles murmurs something she can’t hear. The others look out towards the sea.
Scott cups his hands around his face as if it will help him see further. ‘It’s kinda weird not knowing where we are,’ he says, ‘but I don’t mind it. You’re probably right about the Med though. Aren’t there a bunch of small islands off the Spanish coast?’
James veers closer to the edge, peering over. ‘We’re pretty much on a rock. Has anyone here been to the Channel Islands? I’m thinking it might be one of those . . . one of the smaller ones that no one goes to.’
‘It’s pretty, wherever it is,’ Lucy says. ‘Have you seen these?’ She bends down and lifts the rose-shaped head of a bright green plant poking out from a gap in between some rocks. ‘It’s a succulent, I think. I don’t know what the species is. I have one like this in a little pot on my desk. I’ve never seen them growing wild.’
‘Kind of tropical-looking, isn’t it?’ Brenda says, leaning over and inspecting the plant. She stands up and pushes her sunglasses up her nose. ‘We can’t be anywhere tropical though, can we?’ She turns to address Amelia. ‘Five hundred miles, you said, didn’t you? We can’t even be in the Med, can we?’
Amelia shakes her head. ‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘So when does it start being customised to what we actually want?’ Tiggy asks. ‘Because if it’s meant to be tapping into my brain to pull out my ideas of luxury, then something has gone seriously wrong there.’ She marches past Amelia and James and stops when the path levels out, widening into a clearing. It looks as if the shrubs and brush have been removed on purpose, rather than normal erosion from people walking by. But how many people do walk by, she wonders. She turns round slowly, taking it in. She’s about to say more when the tracker vibrates above her ear. ‘Oh,’ she says. ‘Something’s happening, I think.’
‘What?’ Giles bounds up the hill towards her like an excited puppy. ‘Has Big Brother spoken?’
‘Ha,’ Tiggy says. ‘No. But my tracker vibrated.’
The others join them at the clearing.
‘Mine hasn’t done anything yet,’ Brenda says, disappointed. ‘Did you do anything to it?’
Tiggy shakes her head. ‘Nope. But I did say I thought it wasn’t working. Perhaps we have to speak what we want out loud, rather than just think it. Maybe it’s just not that sophisticated yet?’
‘Oh, please,’ Scott says. ‘I thought we covered this. It’s not really connected to your brain. It might be measuring your heart rate or something, but don’t be fooled that it’s any more than that.’
‘We don’t know that,’ James says, folding his arms.
‘We actually don’t know anything,’ Lucy agrees.
Tiggy turns away from them and puts her hands on her hips, stares at the path winding to the right up ahead. A narrow track disappears off to the left, to a place she can’t see. She’s too hot already, and this is not her idea of a fun activity to do in the blazing sun. ‘I would love a cocktail and a sunbed right now,’ she mutters. ‘And a big umbrella. And something else to wear. I already feel sweaty. But I am not wearing those shorts and T-shirt they’ve put in the bag.’ She wrinkles her nose in disgust. ‘Do they think I want to dress like I’m part of a cut-price tour group?’ The tracker vibrates again.
‘Take the path to the left,’ a voice whispers in her ear. ‘Tell the others to keep going up to the right.’
She whirls round. ‘What the . . . ? Who said that?’
‘Who said what?’ Giles is at her side now. ‘Oh wait, my tracker just vibrated too.’
Tiggy’s eyes widen, and her heart starts to beat faster. The tracker pings above her ear, making her flinch, like she’s been flicked with an elastic band.
‘Chill out,’ the voice says. ‘It’s a transmitter. What did you think it was?’
She raises a hand to her ear and touches the tracker. She feels calmer now, but she doesn’t know why.
‘We’ve just targeted one of your pressure points. Don’t be alarmed. You’ll get exactly what you’re looking for in just a moment.’
‘Wow,’ she says, turning back to the group. ‘It’s doing some sort of acupressure thing now. Is anyone else getting anything?’
Brenda nods. ‘Mine is kicking in too. I’ve been given some instructions and then there was a little sort of shock, and I feel—’
‘Relaxed?’ Lucy says. ‘Me too. I suppose this is where we all start to get our tailored programmes then?’
The group murmurs its assent. Everyone seems slightly dreamy, or maybe that’s just how she’s seeing them all. She walks away from them now, taking the path to the left, as instructed. It stays level, heads across and inland instead of up and hugging the coastline. ‘You guys should keep going that way,’ she says. She doesn’t bother to wait for Giles, assuming that he’s following behind her and not trailing off with the rest of the group.
She feels hot and slightly shaky, and wonders for a moment if she might have sunstroke. But she hasn’t been exposed to the sun for long enough, has she? She walks for a few more minutes and then stops. Ahead of her, a piece of land has been cut away, recessing down into a dip. There are stone steps and a couple of large white umbrellas. Just visible are the ends of what look like two sunloungers.