Chapter 4 #2
‘Hey, I bumped into your friend Sadie yesterday.’ Kat stifled a yawn of her own. ‘She had no idea you were going away and said you haven’t been at book club for months. Why’s that? You loved it.’
A memory flashed up of the last time I’d seen the group; the anxious expressions, the too-tight hugs, all of them walking on eggshells, trying to say the right thing.
‘I left,’ I confessed. ‘I made them feel awkward. No one likes to moan about their kids when your friend’s only child is dead. I felt like a constant reminder to them to count their blessings.’
‘Oh Maggie.’ Her expression melted. ‘That’s so sad.’
I shrugged. ‘That’s life. Anyway, I’ve lost my reading mojo, so it’s probably for the best. So do you want to hear about my trip so far?’
I told her about my two long flights and the journey to the guest house in the rickety minibus and how I’d seen a cow wandering down the street on its own. I missed out the bit about the doom-monger with ringworm at the airport.
A waiter approached me to take my empty plate. ‘Can I get you anything else, mam?’
I was still hungry. I’d only eaten airline meals and snacks for the last twenty-four hours. I tried to see what other customers around me were eating, but all I could surmise was that they were enjoying it, whatever it was. ‘Yes please, what do you recommend?’
‘First time in Nepal?’ He nodded at the guidebook on the table.
I nodded.
He opened his arms wide. ‘Then it has to be dal bhat .’
‘Sounds great,’ I said, not quite sure what I’d agreed to.
‘What’s Bronte’s itinerary for the next few days?’ Kat asked.
‘Not sure. I’ll read the next page while you’re on.’
I tugged Bronte’s Gap Year from my backpack.
She was there in every drawing, every stroke of the pen and I took a moment to drink it in.
‘Her intention was to end Day One with a good night’s sleep,’ I told her, ‘and you’ll get no arguments from me there. I’m thinking a comforting audiobook and a long lie-in tomorrow.’
‘And tomorrow brings …?’ My sister did a drumroll with fingertips on her table.
I turned the page and read the headline. A cold shiver ran down my back. ‘Oh no.’
‘What is it?’ Kat leaned closer.
‘Rise and shine!’ I read out loud. ‘This is the big day. Register with the Everest Base Camp Guys at eight a.m.’
Below was a collage of images of snow-covered mountains, wooden huts, people whose smiles beamed out from inside furry hoods. At the centre was a paragraph which looked as it if had been printed off a website:
Join us for a two-week adventure of a lifetime!
Immerse yourself in the natural beauty of the world’s highest mountain, let us take you higher than the clouds and discover endurance levels and strength within you that you never even dreamed of.
Experience the thrill of suspension bridges across chasms, the charm of Sherpa villages and a warm Nepalese welcome in tea houses as we climb to the Everest Base Camp.
‘Bloody hell, Mags! You can’t go there.’ She clapped a hand to her mouth.
‘I can,’ I said automatically. My heart was pounding but I didn’t want Kat to sense my fear. ‘I can do anything I put my mind to.’
‘Please don’t do anything foolish. People die going up Everest.’
‘I think that’s climbing to the summit,’ I corrected her. ‘Base Camp is not as treacherous.’
But it would be tough going, and I was far from fit. I had been so weighed down with sadness since losing Bronte that I’d probably only done 10,000 steps in the whole of December.
‘But still really dangerous,’ Kat squeaked.
‘I’ve committed to this trip; I can’t fall at the first hurdle,’ I told her.
‘But do you want to do it?’
‘This isn’t about me,’ I tried to explain. ‘It’s about Bronte. Okay, I haven’t trained for it, and I don’t have the right clothes, but I can buy what I need.’
‘Bronte wouldn’t expect you to start flinging yourself around mountains. This was her dream trip,’ Kat said firmly. ‘Hers. There might be lots of things that you don’t want to do on those pages. Are you going to do them all regardless of how miserable or scared they make you feel?’
‘Yes!’ I shot back, adding more quietly, ‘Probably.’
‘Of course you’re not!’ she retorted. ‘You’re going to make this trip work for you. If Bronte had designed it with you in mind, it would have been kaftans instead of crampons. Am I right or am I right?’
I conceded a smile. ‘You’re a bit right.’
Kat shook her head fondly. ‘You idiot. Look, promise me you won’t rush into anything. Take a breath and think it through.’
‘I promise.’ Although I might go back and buy that puffa jacket I’d seen.
‘Mam?’ The waiter slid a plate between me and the phone and bowed as he walked away.
‘I’d better go. My food has arrived.’
‘What is it?’
I looked at my dinner: a pile of wafer-thin poppadoms, two bowls, one of rice and one containing something brown, and a tiny pot of something fragrant. ‘Not sure. Curried lentils by the look of it.’
‘Sounds absolutely delicious and good for your digestion.’ She gave a snort. ‘Glad I’m not your roommate tonight.’
‘I haven’t got a roommate,’ I said. ‘I have a private suite, darling. The best that the Ganesh Guest House has to offer.’ Which wasn’t saying a lot.
I promised to keep in touch, and after we ended the call, I opened my internet browser and searched ‘Nepal trekking for beginners’.
Kat was right about the lentil curry, it was delicious. Was she right about the trekking too? Was it one step too far? How far would I go to carry out my daughter’s wishes?