“I suppose not,” he agreed after a moment. “We kept to ourselves, for better or worse. Yet you were still friends with Claire.”
And it always seemed to come back to that. “I have a kind heart,” Rachel answered flippantly. She turned back to her sister. “Don’t I, Lily?”
“Umm... sometimes?” Lily ventured, and Andrew gave a small smile.
“Even your family condemns you.”
“Damned with faint praise.”
“Why didn’t you go to university, Rachel?”
The suddenness of the question threw her. “Because I had to work.” She glanced at Lily, whose expression had turned wary. “I had better things to do,” she said, because the last thing she wanted to do was make Lily feel guilty. But when she saw a certain glint enter her sister’s eyes, she realized that might not have been the best answer. “Lily’s going, though,” she stated firmly. “Right, Lil? She has a conditional offer from Durham.”
“That’s great news.” Andrew turned to Lily. “To study art?”
“Um, no.” Lily bit her lip, and Rachel stared at her in surprise. “Biology,” she muttered, not looking at Rachel. “Probably.”
Probably? The offer from Durham was for biology only. Still Rachel said nothing, and Andrew murmured, “I see,” and they kept walking.
Art? Was this about those cartoons? Had Lily talked about them with Andrew? For a reason Rachel didn’t want to examinetoo closely, the thought made her break out in a hot, prickly flush. Why had Lily been talking to Andrew about her stupid cartoons?
They weren’t stupid, Rachel knew; in fact, even from one cursory glance she’d seen they were quite clever. So, fine. When Lily was at Durham she could do a cartoon strip for the Palatinate, Durham’s student newspaper. Rachel had no problem with that.
They were nearing the top of the fell, or at least Rachel hoped they were. The air was sharper and colder, and snow dusted the ground. She might not have worn hiking boots, but at least she had a warm coat. She dug her hands into its pockets as she carefully picked her way over the rocks, her gaze on the ground below. The last thing she wanted was Andrew to have to call Mountain Rescue because she’d sprained her ankle or worse. Although he wouldn’t be able to call Mountain Rescue, because he didn’t have reception on his phone.
“Careful.” Andrew cupped her elbow with his hand and Rachel instinctively tried to jerk away, making him hold her more firmly. “I don’t want you to break a leg.”
“I was just thinking the same thing.” She let him help her across the stony ground, even though it went against her instincts. There was something rather pleasant about being helped, held, even in such a small way.
“You could look up, you know,” Andrew said, and she realized, belatedly, that they’d actually reached the summit. She sucked in a hard breath, shaking off Andrew’s hand as she slowly moved in a circle, taking in the stunning view in every direction. Barren fells, rocky, rust colored, and unrelieved by any trees or bushes, swept to an endless horizon. She could see the glint of Wastwater in the distance, a hard, bright blue. It was beautiful, but there was something lonely and bleak about it too,something that made Rachel’s chest feel tight in a way that had nothing to do with the cold air or high altitude.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Andrew said quietly. From behind her Rachel heard Lily snapping pictures.
She didn’t answer Andrew, because “amazing” wasn’t the right word. It was awe-inspiring, incredible, and yet also painful. Looking at that endless view made Rachel realize how small she was, how utterly insignificant. There was a whole world out there to explore and conquer, and soon enough she’d be cleaning Henry Price’s toilet.
She closed her eyes, shutting out both the vista and the thought of Henry Price and his unhygienic habits. She wanted to savor this moment and at the same time run away from it. Lily came to stand next to her, and Rachel opened her eyes. She saw Andrew gazing at her thoughtfully, a look in his eyes that Rachel feared was too close to pity.
“I suppose we should head back and find Claire,” she said.
The walk back down Scafell Pike was as onerous as the journey up, each downward step jolting Rachel’s knee joints and sending loose pebbles skittering down the path.
“People underestimate how difficult it is to walk down a mountain,” Andrew remarked, and Rachel didn’t bother to answer. She was trying not to whimper in pain. She didn’t think she’d ever wear trainers again.
By the time the gate at the start of the trail came into view, she could have wept with relief. They’d passed a few hikers along the way, all of them decked out in the same sensible kit as Andrew. No one looked like they were in the kind of pain Rachel was. Lily, however, had managed all right. She’d borrowed a pair of hiking boots from a friend.
“Claire’s probably inside,” Andrew said, nodding towards the inn, and they all trooped inside the large whitewashed building. Rachel glanced around the wood-paneled bar with its deepbooths and full array of wines and beers and thought she’d do just about anything to sink into a seat with a large glass of red.
Andrew, however, didn’t look inclined to linger. He was walking around the room, looking for Claire, but after just a few seconds of searching it was clear she wasn’t there.
“Maybe she got a room?” Rachel suggested. After her glass of wine she’d like a bubble bath and a twelve-hour nap upstairs. She imagined Claire would like the same.
“Look.” Lily pointed to a notice board by the door, where various people had pinned adverts for secondhand hiking equipment or guided tours. There was a torn-off piece of paper with a few words scrawled on it: I went home. –Claire.
“How on earth did she get home?” Andrew demanded. “It’s not as if a bus comes through here.”
“Maybe she got a lift with someone,” Lily ventured, and Andrew scowled.
“Let’s go,” he said, and strode out of the pub.
