Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Rowan
Despite Ewan’s new – and amazingly colourful – crutches, he’s still the slowest walker in the group, and within half an hour he’s cursing like a sailor, bothered by the heat, by the pain, by the slowness of his pace.
None of it helped by the terrain, which is another steady climb, as we leave Kinlochleven behind and start the long journey across the Highlands to Fort William – and Ben Nevis, in whose shadow we’ll end the walk.
Angus’ mood is similarly dour. He’s fallen back into brooding, his brows drawn low as he tramps down the path, hunched under his bag like a beetle. A veritable rain cloud follows him despite the brightness of the day, and whenever he looks at me, the cloud seems to grow heavier.
Last night, we kissed, and this morning I woke wrapped in his arms. For a few, blissful moments I let myself enjoy it. That heavenly feeling of being half-asleep, warm and protected. It felt different than it did with Ethan. More intimate, more connected, even though we hardly know each other.
For a few, blissful moments, I let myself pretend that he felt that too.
But reality broke with the same force as last night’s storm, brought on the winds of Angus’ deep voice as he – rightly, fairly, reasonably, but also awfully, upsettingly, finally – requested that I return his arm.
I’m an idiot for thinking it could be something more.
And now we’re trudging along, hardly speaking. Even my attempts at an apology haven’t fixed things: if anything, he’s grown stiffer, colder, more like the guarded man I shouted at on day one.
There’s nothing I can do. It’s the last day, and I’m determined to enjoy it, before I crash back into the reality of Sophie’s wedding.
The storm has blown away, and everything is fresh and new.
My feet are still bundles of pain, but I’ve learned that the only thing to do is accept it and keep walking anyway, and while there’s an ache in my legs, it isn’t the sharp stabbing of the first few days.
There’s a heavy satisfaction to it, of muscles that have been well-worked, that are growing stronger with every step.
I huff and puff my way up the last of the incline, pausing at the top to catch my breath.
When I turn back the way we’ve come, I can see all the way to the start of the day: to Kinlochleven, the loch sparkling in the sun.
Rolling hills and green forests and an earthy umber landscape that I’ve begun to associate with the raw, primal beauty of the Highlands.
“Stunning, isn’t it?” Lila strolls up beside me.
I nod, words failing me.
“Water?” She offers me her canteen, and we fall into step as we descend again, following the glen as the path bumps and jolts into the distance.
There is no sign of Ben Nevis, but my guidebook tells me that won’t be until after lunch, when we turn north through the forested slopes, along the bottom of the valley, descending into its shadow.
“Last day, huh?” Lila adds wistfully. “I can’t believe it’s gone so fast.”
“I know. If you’d told me on the first day, I’d be sad about it ending, I’d have laughed in your face.”
“That’s how it gets you.” Lila laughs. “One second you’re complaining about your sore back and wishing you were curled up at home, and the next your feet are squelching in your boots and your knees are aching, but you couldn’t be happier.
” She holds up a stern finger. “Fair warning. You’re one of us now, Rowan.
You can take the girl out of the hike, but you can’t take the hike out of the girl.
You’ll see – five minutes back at home, and you’ll be itching to be out here again. ”
I take a deep breath. “Again, if you’d said that to me day one, I’d have called you a liar. But now…” I shrug. “I guess we’ll see. Not like I’ve got much to be going home for anyway.”
“Sounds like you’re at a bit of a crossroads then.”
“I guess I am… I think I need to take some time to figure out what I want. I’ve been on autopilot for so many years, and I didn’t even realise. So, that’s scary, but also good, I think?”
“And what about Angus? How does he factor in?”
“Angus?” I look at Lila in surprise.
“The grumpy, incredibly sexy bear of a man we’ve been walking with for five days? The one who keeps looking at you with fuck-me eyes?”
“Lila!”
“What? Because I’m a mum and I prefer it when everyone doesn’t constantly swear in front of my ten-year-old, I don’t know how to say the word ‘fuck’? How do you think Priya came into being anyway? It certainly wasn’t an immaculate conception.” She twiddles her eyebrows.
“I will admit, there is a certain appealing ruggedness to Angus’ face. And he does have great arms.”
“Also his arse. Let’s not forget that tender peach he’s carting along.”
I struggle not to laugh. “Also that. And his shoulders.”
Lila nods. “Perfect ankle resters when he’s got you on your back.”
“Lila!” I can’t help it, I’m going red.
Angus glances back, still wearing his grumpiest frown, and we wave at him and laugh.
“Speaking of men… What about you?” I ask. “Will Priya’s dad be waiting for you when you get back?”
I have this vision that Lila’s husband is the kind of man who’ll greet them both with flowers, protesting that he’s missed them far too much, and they should never go away without him again. That he’ll be passionate, showering them with kisses, declaiming poetry from the top of the stairs.
“No.” Lila shakes her head. “He’ll be away for a couple more days. He gets back on Monday.”
“Do you miss him?”
“I—”
But she pauses, distracted by Priya, who has stopped, and is pointing into the trees. “Mum! Rowan! Look!”
We hurry up to her, Lila returning to Mum mode, scanning her to make sure nothing is wrong. But Priya seems fine, bouncing on the tips of her toes as she waits for us to join.
“Look,” she says again, lowering her voice to a whisper.
I follow her gaze and freeze, awestruck by the sight of a small herd of deer scattered among the trees. Their red coats gleam in the dappled sunlight, and their ears perk as they amble past us, stopping occasionally to nibble on a piece of leaf or grass. Their antlers are proud, their eyes shine.
“Mum,” Priya whispers, reaching for Lila’s hand. “They’re so beautiful.”
Lila hugs her daughter tight. “I know, baby.”
“I wish I could look at them forever.” Priya blinks hard, once, and then again, as Ewan limps up.
“What are you doing?” he asks, clocking the deer.
“I’m taking a picture for my memory bank,” Priya explains. “So then when I’m old, I won’t forget.”
“Why bother with that when you can take a real picture? Don’t you have a phone? Here. I’ll do it for you.” Ewan lets his crutch slide up his arm and scrabble at the pocket on the side of his bag, eventually fishing out his phone and pointing it at the deer.
But when he presses the button, the phone flashes with a white light, startling the closest deer, who shies into the next.
The effect is instantaneous: the entire herd, sensing danger, lift their heads, casting around for the most likely source – us – and rapidly darting away, until we can barely see them through the branches.
“Idiot.” Angus sends a dirty look in Ewan’s direction.
“What? I didn’t know the flash was on!” Ewan protests. “I was trying to help. The kid was doing some nonsense with her eyes.”
“I was creating a picture in my memory bank!” Priya repeats.
“And I was taking you a photo so you would actually remember.”
“I can remember!” Priya closes her eyes and smiles. “There you are, friends. And now we can be together forever.”
“You know your kid is weird, right?” Ewan asks Lila, who rolls her eyes, takes Priya by the hand, and walks away. “What?”
“Like I said, idiot,” Angus adds.
“I’m trying to help! What is wrong with all of you?”
“It’s not nice to call people weird,” Priya says, pausing in the road, “unless you mean it in a helpful way because you’re weird too, like Rowan. Otherwise it hurts their feelings.”
“You tell him, honey,” Lila cheers.
It takes Ewan a second to understand. “Did I hurt your feelings, Priya?”
“No.” She keeps walking.
“Ah, shit, I’m sorry. Obviously, I’m weird too, if that helps?”
Priya pauses. “You are?”
Ewan spreads his arms wide. “Look at me! Yeah, I’m bloody weird.”
“The swearing! What is it with you lot and the swearing?” Lila says.
Priya squints at Ewan. “Okay. I guess we’ll let you join the club.”
“Er, thanks? What kind of club is it? Do we get badges? Or stickers? My mum used to give me a sticker when I went to every lesson for a week.” He pauses. “I… didn’t get that many of them. But they were cool – she bought loads of packs from Poundland and she’d let me pick.”
“You got a sticker for going to school?” Priya looks at Lila.
“Everyone is different, honey.”
“My mum would buy us an ice cream if we got all As on our report cards,” I say, a flash of a memory taking me back to hot summers sitting in the park, my hands sticky with ice cream, nibbling on a flake next to Sophie and thinking life couldn’t get better than this.
“If you got all As? Mate. No wonder you’re messed up.”
“Ewan!” Lila chides.
“What? Talk about impossible standards!”
“I get all As,” Priya chimes in.
“That’s because you’re my prodigal wunderkind.
My special girl. But a lot of people don’t love school the way you do, or they learn in different ways, or they’re interested in different things.
It doesn’t mean they’re not smart, it means that the education system doesn’t cater to them the way they need.
” Lila ruffles her hat. “And what about you, Angus? What awful system of bribery did your parents have for you?”
Angus frowns. “No bribery. We didn’t always have time for school because we’d be helping on the farm. And Da didn’t care much about our grades, long as the teachers weren’t calling him in to talk about us.”
“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”