“I know you are,” he said with a small smile. “I’ve actually come to extend an invitation.”
“An invitation . . . ?”
“Claire and I are going to go hiking this weekend, maybe try to conquer Scafell Pike. We thought you, and any of your family”—he glanced at Lily—“might like to join us.”
Rachel gaped at him. Literally gaped, mouth hanging open, eyes bulging, speechless. “I...” she finally said, uselessly, and Lily jumped in.
“I’d love to go,” she said. “And so would Rachel.”
Chapter fourteen
Claire
Claire wasn’t an outdoorsy person. Growing up she’d been deemed too fragile for sports because of her health, and in any case, her parents weren’t exactly the fell-walking type. Andrew was, though; he’d run track at Wyndham, and when he’d gone to uni, he’d always come back and hiked through his holidays. He’d had a goal of conquering all two-hundred-odd peaks in the whole of Cumbria. Claire didn’t know how many he’d actually managed.
Apparently he was going to attempt one today, along with her, Rachel, and Rachel’s sister Lily. It felt like an odd assortment of people packed into Andrew’s usually roomy Lexus. Claire watched Rachel covertly, noticing the way she’d stroked the leather of the seats before jerking her hand back and then folding both arms and staring straight ahead. She hadn’t said much, and Claire couldn’t tell if she was still angry or not.
Why did you dump me in Year Six?
The question had been so unexpected, and it still made Claire inwardly squirm with a mixture of guilt and confusion. She hadn’t remembered it exactly like that. Back when she waseleven, it had felt like Rachel had been turning her back on her. Admittedly she’d gone with the Wyndham girls, but she’d been waiting for Rachel to elbow her way in and join them. She never had.
Lily was seemingly oblivious to the tension that Claire could feel from Rachel and even Andrew, although he looked relaxed enough, driving the alarmingly narrow road by Ennerdale with ease. Claire flinched every time they passed a car; the side mirrors nearly brushed each other.
“I’ve never actually climbed a fell,” Rachel announced from the backseat. She had insisted on sitting in the back with Lily although Claire had offered her the front seat.
“And you a born and bred Cumbrian?” Andrew said, arching an eyebrow, a small smile playing about his lips. For a second Claire wondered if her brother was actually flirting. With Rachel.
“You are too,” Rachel pointed out. “Even if you don’t act like it.”
“Yet I’ve climbed one hundred and ninety-two fells.”
“Andrew wasn’t actually born in Cumbria,” Claire chipped in. “He was born in Leeds. I’m the only one in the family who was born in Cumbria.”
“Have you ever climbed a fell?” Rachel asked.
“No, I never did.”
“So what are we all doing out here, then?”
“Having fun,” Lily said, and lightly punched her sister’s arm. “It’s an absolutely glorious day.”
Claire gazed out the window at Ennerdale in the valley below them, the water a brilliant blue in the sunlight, the fells, some still snow-capped, providing a backdrop so stunning it looked like a set piece from a play. It was so different from London or Portugal, and she had to remind herself that she’d actually lived here for most of her life. “It reminds me of the backdrop in TheSound of Music, when they do that song about the goats,” she said, and Andrew let out laugh.
“You’re comparing all of that out there to a painted bit of cardboard in a film?”
“Well, sort of...” she began, and Rachel caught her eye.
“Yodel-lay-he-hoo,” she sang off-key, and they shared a surprising, complicit smile before Rachel glanced back at Andrew.
“So we’re not actually climbing Scafell Pike, are we?” she asked.
“Why shouldn’t we?”
“Because I’m wearing trainers and it’s about five thousand feet high.”
“Three thousand and sixty-eight, actually.”
“I stand corrected.”
