Chapter 5
Nepal
‘Your room, mam.’ A young member of staff opened the door and set my suitcase over the threshold.
I took a quick look at the piece of paper I’d put in my pocket.
‘Dhan-ya-bad,’ I read out.
My waiter had patiently taught me how to say ‘thank you’ and I’d written it down on the back of the receipt from the café. I’d looked it up since and this was not how it was spelled, but written phonetically I’d have a chance of remembering it.
The boy grinned, no doubt impressed at my mastery of his language, and handed me the key to room 106 with a small bow.
I repeated my only word of Nepali and bowed back to him. I locked the door as soon as he’d left and looked around, trying not to grimace.
It resembled a prison cell, except perhaps not as clean.
Twin beds, separated by a small nightstand, a thin folded towel at the end of each one.
A window overlooked a row of air-conditioning units which thrummed loudly.
The person in the room next door had the TV on full volume.
Above me someone flushed the toilet and it sounded as if water was cascading through my ceiling.
I consoled myself with the fact that not only had I brought ear plugs with me, but I was so tired that I’d probably be able to sleep on the street with that puppy I’d seen earlier.
Moving into the bathroom, I found a stained bath and a chipped toilet bowl; but on the upside, the light was so dim I could barely see anything at all.
My bed was calling, but first I needed to wash away the grime from the journey.
The shower over the bath only produced a dribble of lukewarm water when I turned on the tap, but it was better than nothing. I checked the door was locked, stripped off and showered and washed my hair as quickly as I could.
Ten minutes later, I was searching for my new satin pyjamas in my suitcase when I heard the unmistakable scrabbling noise of a key being inserted in the lock of the door.
I froze, holding my breath, my heart thumping.
I was only wearing a towel. Looking around for something to throw on, I picked up a hoodie.
The handle jiggled as whoever was on the other side wrestled with the lock.
‘Who is it?’ I inched towards the door, struggling to tug my hoodie over the bath towel turban I’d got wrapped around my hair. I got my head into the hood, but the rest of it stayed wedged on my shoulders.
The rattling stopped.
‘Your roomie,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘Have you got the key in the lock by any chance?’
American by the sound of her.
‘Yes. But I don’t have a roomie.’ I opened the door a fraction and peered out into the narrow corridor to find the woman I’d met in the lobby earlier shrugging a large rucksack off her shoulders. ‘You must have the wrong room.’
‘Ah, shoot.’ She looked at the key in her hand. The fob was carved with the number 106.
A family group chose that moment to pass by, forcing the woman to lean in through my open door, knocking her rucksack over onto my legs as she did so.
I staggered backwards and the rucksack hit the floor.
‘I’ll run back down to the lobby and sort it out.’ She gave me an apologetic smile. ‘Can I leave my bag here, save me lugging it all the way?’
‘Sure.’ I tugged it inside with one hand, the other making sure my towel didn’t drop off.
The woman strode away, and I shut the door, wedging the backpack against it. By the time she returned, I was wearing my pyjamas. This time she wasn’t alone. The man from reception was with her.
‘Mam,’ said the man, addressing me nervously. ‘On behalf of the Ganesh Guest House I am very sorry. But there has been a mix-up.’
‘What sort of mix-up?’ I looked from him to her.
She shrugged apologetically. ‘A double-booking sort of mix-up. You and I have both been allocated this room.’
I glanced over my shoulder and indicated my stuff everywhere. ‘But I’ve already unpacked.’
‘No problem,’ said the woman. ‘I never unpack, so you can keep all the drawers.’
‘But why do we have to share?’ I said to the man. ‘Can you not put this lady, er …’
‘Tiff,’ she supplied.
‘Could Tiff not go in another room?’
‘This is impossible,’ explained the man. ‘Our hotel is full except for one spare bed in the men’s dormitory.’
‘Listen, it’s not ideal, but you won’t even know I’m here,’ said Tiff. ‘It’s one night and I’m leaving early in the morning.’
‘Thank you, mam,’ said the receptionist, bowing as if the matter was settled. ‘The management are very grateful.’
‘Hold on!’ I gripped the front of my pyjama shirt. ‘I specifically requested a private en suite room.’
‘I am very sorry, mam. We have only one private room. Somehow this lady booked it also.’
‘Look, I’m not crazy about it either,’ said Tiff, casually. ‘But I’m as entitled to this room as you, so why don’t we agree to get along?’
I let out a breath. ‘I’ve never shared a room with a stranger.’
‘Never?’ Tiff wrinkled her nose in disbelief. ‘Not a traveller, huh?’
‘Not since I was twenty-two.’
I had a sudden image of how Bronte would have dealt with this mix-up if she’d been here instead of me. She’d have opened the door wide and welcomed the other woman in. Maybe I was going to have to be more like Bronte on this trip. I was supposed to be letting her guide me, after all.
‘And actually, I had the time of my life on that trip, so I guess it’s about time I did it again. Pleased to meet you, Tiff, I’m Maggie. Come in.’
‘How early are you leaving tomorrow?’ I held out a bag of peanuts for Tiff to help herself.
‘Thanks.’ She took a handful. ‘Five a.m. maybe?’
I’d cleared my things off one of the beds for her, but she’d insisted that she didn’t need any other space.
I’d left her to work on her laptop while I dried my hair and now we were both sitting on our beds, sharing my snacks and drinking bottles of the local beer Tiff had fetched from the hotel bar.
‘Right.’ My heart sank. I’d been looking forward to a slow start to the day. On the plus side, I’d have the bathroom to myself again. My stomach was protesting about all the lentils I’d eaten earlier.
‘I’m taking a flight tour around the Himalayas,’ Tiff told me. ‘It’s my second trip. It was so foggy the first time I couldn’t see a thing. This time I’m hoping I get some good pictures. But if I don’t,’ she shrugged, ‘well, I guess I’ll be back a third time.’
‘You love Nepal that much?’ I said with a hint of scepticism.
‘Absolutely I do,’ she confirmed. ‘But officially I’m here for work.’
‘So this is a business trip?’
‘Yep.’
She had a brand-new phone and an expensive-looking laptop and her rucksack looked very professional.
‘So why are you staying in such a cheap hotel?’
She grinned. ‘I was thinking the same about you in your silky PJs and your fancy suitcase.’
I smiled back. ‘Touché.’
‘You strike me as a woman who likes a hotel room with a safe and a proper coffee machine and nice toiletries.’ Tiff’s eyes sparkled with mischief.
‘Definitely not one where you end up sharing a tiny twin room with a beer-swilling American.’ As if to press home her point she belched softly. ‘Excuse me.’
I would have liked a safe; I’d been contemplating sleeping with my passport, credit cards and Bronte’s notebook under my pillow until Tiff turned up. ‘You’re not wrong. But I asked you first.’
‘Well.’ She tilted her head back, threw a peanut up in the air and caught it in her mouth. ‘Life has a habit of going off at a tangent until you’re so far away from yourself that you forget who you are. Are you with me?’
I nodded politely.
‘Staying somewhere unpretentious and authentic, travelling with a backpack instead of a flashy case on wheels,’ her eyes wandered to my nice spinny case and back to me, ‘brings me back to the girl I was at eighteen, who was so certain of who she was and what she was going to achieve in life. Staying in a guest house like this helps keep the money in the local area instead of lining the pockets of the global chains, and it’s like pressing my reset button, I guess. ’
I studied her. Mid-thirties, maybe. Far enough away from eighteen to have changed completely, at any rate. ‘Do you honestly think you’re the same girl?’
‘I know I am.’ She slurped her beer. ‘There’s a little more junk in the trunk, but that internal flame still burns the same. How about you?’
‘Why am I here at this guest house?’ I asked. Tiff nodded. ‘My daughter chose it.’
‘Is that her?’ Tiff pointed to the framed photo of the two of us I’d brought with me from home.
‘Yes, that’s Bronte on her twenty-first birthday almost three years ago. My only child.’
‘She has a beautiful smile, and you look so alike. I bet she thinks her mom is cool, coming to Nepal on her own?’
I shook my head. ‘She was the cool one. She died last year.’
Tiff groaned. ‘Oh shoot, Maggie, I’m so sorry.’
We fell silent and both drank our beer. I was used to this pattern. I always felt so sorry for the other person as they racked their brains to follow my revelation with something which didn’t sound clichéd that I usually ended up talking for England. I needed to get better at that.
‘She was going to take a gap year and go travelling,’ I said. ‘Had it all mapped out. So I’m taking her place, to her honour her memory. Nepal was the first stop.’
‘Wow. That’s brave.’ Tiff raised her beer bottle across the gap between our beds and I chinked mine against it. ‘Kudos to you, lady.’
‘Not brave; naive,’ I argued. ‘I found out today that she was going to trek to Everest Base Camp. Which means I’ll be doing it instead. My sister isn’t happy about it. Quite honestly, I’m not thrilled, but that was the deal I made.’
‘With that suitcase?’ Tiff gave a bark of laughter.
‘No, obviously not,’ I said haughtily. ‘I’ll buy what equipment I need.’
She looked at my Nike trainers. ‘I’m assuming you’ve got walking boots already. Because you can’t do it in new boots, they have to be worn in.’
That was a good point; imagine if I ended up with blistered heels and I had to keep going despite the pain. I’d hate that.
‘How’s your fitness level?’ Tiff went on. ‘Even the base camp is like a 5,000-metre climb. It’s a physically challenging trek at high altitude. You can’t rock up and say a single ticket to EBC, please. And you can forget having a private room – they’ll laugh you off the mountain.’
‘I think I’ve proved I can share if push comes to shove,’ I said primly.
‘What about the rest of your group, huh? They’ll have been preparing for months, saving their money for this trip of a lifetime, bucket-list-level expedition. Don’t you think it might be a teeny bit selfish to tag along and slow everyone down?’
‘Okay, fine, I get it,’ I snapped.
She was so annoying. Correct, but annoying.
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ she muttered under her breath.
I could sense that she was dying to laugh. I didn’t blame her: the stupid middle-aged English woman who thought she could trek the world’s most treacherous landscape on a whim. I can do anything , I’d claimed hours earlier to Kat. What an idiot.
I wished I could laugh at myself. I used to be able to, years ago, when life had felt like one big adventure, when I’d got by on finding solutions to life’s challenges and brushing off mistakes as part of the learning process.
But now the stakes were too high to laugh it off. I had three months to tick off all the things Bronte wanted to see and do. I’d made her a promise. I didn’t want to let her down.
I let out a long sigh.
‘Hey, I didn’t mean to come on so strong.’ Tiff swung her feet to the floor and turned to face me. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ I replied, feeling teary. ‘I wasn’t thinking it through, that’s all. Seeing the mountains up close was Bronte’s number-one reason for being in Nepal. I have to find another way to do it, preferably one which won’t require an oxygen mask.’
Tiff grinned. ‘That’s easy. Come on the flight tour tomorrow with me. You won’t get closer than that.’
She opened her laptop and tapped at the keyboard. ‘Want me to book you a seat?’
‘I …’ I tried to concoct a reason to refuse, but other than the fact that I’d have to be up before dawn, I couldn’t think of one. Tiff’s idea was a great compromise and flying would be a damn sight easier than walking. ‘Why not. Yes please.’
Within minutes, I had a seat on board the 6:30 a.m. flight with Yeti Airlines and a plan for the day. Between us on the nightstand lay Bronte’s Gap Year . I gave it a kiss and settled down to sleep, feeling closer to my daughter than I had in months.
‘Thank you,’ I said into the darkness once we’d turned the lights out an hour later. ‘I’m glad the guest house was double-booked, and I got to meet you.’
‘Save your thanks until tomorrow,’ said Tiff. ‘Apparently my snoring could wake the dead.’
I snapped on the light and rummaged around for my ear plugs. ‘I don’t suppose you’d mind waiting for me to fall asleep first, would you?’
From the other bed came a low rumble which grew into the sort of noise I hadn’t heard outside of a sea life centre. So that would be a no.
Bronte’s Gap Year
Nepal absolute definites:
Trek to Everest Base Camp
Visit the Boudhanath Stupa and see the prayer flags
Take art materials into a school (maybe even do some art with the kids???)
Bathe an elephant. Harry did this in Sri Lanka and the photos he got are awesome.
Visit a women’s empowerment project. Mum told me that if you put other people at the centre of your world, you’ll always feel fulfilled. I love that. This trip feels self-indulgent, so my aim is to give back as much as I receive.