Chapter 5
FLAVIA
I’m aware that Dominic can be kind. He tried to calm Judith and me down on the plane, he helped with our luggage, he insisted on taking the sofa bed, and I’m pretty sure he purposely changed the subject from my time in Australia, having guessed that I don’t want to talk about Jed.
He is also, however, annoying me right now.
I did overindulge a tiny bit on the pancakes and brownies, and now I’d really like to have a nice siesta rather than haul myself up an actual mountain, and he’s gone all holier-than-thou about salad eating.
I’d rather be sitting next to a sympathetic person who would also like to get up the mountain by some mode of transport not involving their own legs.
‘Time for us to go,’ Maxim announces. ‘First, however, I need to explain that there is an element of choice at this point in your itinerary.’
Hopes raised, I glance at Judith and mouth, ‘Taxi,’ at her, and she sniggers.
Maxim frowns at us and says, ‘There are two possible routes. We have time for both, and – according to the forms you completed – all of you are fit enough to do either, and our guide is equally happy with either. One is easier; one is more challenging.’
Oh dear. I’m not sure Maxim’s the wisest tour guide. There is no possibility that everyone’s going to be happy with the outcome of this vote. As a teacher, I’ve led a lot of trips. It’s a bad, bad idea to give people a choice in a situation like this.
Maxim describes the routes in a bit more detail.
‘I’m also going to vote,’ he tells us, ‘so that we have an uneven number of people and a clear outcome.’ Even less wise.
Then, instead of just going for a show of hands, he gives us all a piece of paper to write our choices on, so that we won’t be influenced by anyone else. And then, we go round the group showing our choice one by one. Dominic is the penultimate person. He votes for the more challenging route.
At which point Maxim, clearly having watched too many Traitors Round Tables, goes full Claudia and gives us a summary of the votes.
‘And so the casting vote is Flavia’s,’ he concludes. ‘If she chooses the easier route, that is the one we will take. And if she chooses the more challenging route, that is the one we will take.’ He’s definitely channelling Claudia.
Everyone looks at me, and I say, ‘With huge apologies to the six people who wanted to go for the more challenging route, I’m going to have to choose the easier one.
’ I’m hard-pushed not to tell them all I’m a Faithful.
‘Maxim did say that it had amazing scenery,’ I add a little desperately when the challenging-route voters look at me with disappointment in their eyes. ‘I mean, all routes up are fantastic.’
‘Of course they are.’ Dominic – somewhat to my surprise – has come to my rescue.
‘It’s Table Mountain. And the Platteklip Gorge is famously beautiful.
’ He then supplies us all with a couple of facts about it, which we do all appreciate, before leaning into me and saying into my ear, ‘Apparently pre-reading a guidebook sometimes comes into its own.’
‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘Every single time your tour guide puts you in a Round Table situation and you have the casting vote. Which clearly happens all the time.’
‘Exactly.’ Then he raises an eyebrow. ‘Round Table situation?’
‘Traitors?’
‘Traitors?’
I gasp. ‘Do you not watch The Traitors? Or even know what it is? Like no-one you know talks about it?’
‘No?’
‘Whoa.’ I have no words.
While I’ve been discovering that Dominic lives under a reality-TV-free rock, Mike – who wanted to go the more challenging way – has continued to mutter in a disgruntled fashion.
‘Why don’t we split into two groups?’ he suggests (quite loudly). ‘Makes a lot of sense.’
‘I’m afraid we can’t do that,’ Maxim says. ‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy the walk.’
‘I’ve been to Everest base camp,’ Mike tells him. ‘I’m very experienced with much more challenging routes.’
‘We aren’t insured if the group splits up,’ Maxim says firmly. ‘We only have one guide. And unexpected accidents can happen to even the most competent of hikers.’
‘He’s right.’ Judith pats Mike’s arm. ‘My late husband was a very experienced hiker and climber but he once broke his collarbone falling off a pavement just outside M I should know better.
I just didn’t really think we were hiking today.
I kind of thought Table Mountain was right next to the city and that we’d be popping up to the top in a cable car or something.
I almost have to admit to myself that occasionally a bit of Dominic-style pre-checking of itineraries isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
It’s because it’s an organised tour. I don’t think I’ve ever been on one before; usually I sort everything myself.
The bag is heavy. And getting heavier. It bangs against my side as I walk.
The leather’s getting warm too and making my side too hot.
Basically, I’d like to chuck it. I can’t, though.
In normal, non-hiking times, it’s one of my favourites, plus I need the stuff inside it, plus I don’t have a lot of spare cash at the moment and it would be a big waste of money.
So I’m going to have to continue carrying it. For hours and hours and hours.
I take it from my left shoulder and carry it in my hand for a bit while I do some backwards and forwards circles with my shoulders. Then I move it to my right shoulder.
‘This is just stunning scenery, isn’t it?’ breathes Judith next to me.
‘Yes,’ I agree. It is. It really is. But honestly, right now I’d rather just be back in the hotel room so that I can stop carrying this bloody bag. All the others have backpacks or soft, crossbody bags. I am a complete idiot.
‘Can I carry your bag for a while?’ Dominic’s deep voice right behind me comes as a surprise because I had no idea he was walking so close to me, and I squeak an Oh.
Then – with great reluctance – I say, ‘That’s very kind, but no thank you, I’m absolutely fine with it.’ I can’t inflict my stupidity on him and ruin his walk.
‘Really? You looked like you were shifting it from side to side quite a lot, like you were finding it annoying. And I’d be very happy to help with it.’
I am, honestly, usually very good at admitting it when I’m wrong. With Dominic, though… He’s just so smug about his healthy eating and sensible dressing. He, of course, has come equipped with a small backpack to carry his water (and no doubt guidebook). I don’t want to admit he was right.
On the other hand, though, I’d love some respite from the bag carrying. Like… maybe he could do five minutes every half hour.
While I consider the issue, Dominic watches me, a definite twinkle in his eye.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘You trying to calculate whether you’d more hate to admit I was right or continue to carry the bag?’
‘Maybe.’
‘What about…’ Dominic pauses for dramatic effect. ‘You admit I was right and then I carry the bag the whole way and everyone’s a winner?’
I narrow my eyes. ‘You drive a very, very hard bargain.’ I think for a moment. ‘Also, though. The bag’s a nightmare. I’d feel terrible ruining your day instead of mine.’
‘Firstly, I can manage.’ He does a cartoon-style muscle-flex, which makes me laugh and also, I’m annoyed to say, slightly drool (internally). Those biceps are… well, very nice. ‘Secondly, I would love you to admit I was right. I’d carry a lot more than one large handbag to achieve that.’
I’m very, very tempted.
‘Come on. You know you want to.’ He gives me a big pantomime wink, which I can’t help smiling at.
‘Fine,’ I say, not that reluctantly. ‘You win.’ I hold the bag out towards him.