“He left early this morning. I saw him packing when I went to brush my teeth.”
“Priya! Could you come help me?”
Priya glances her mother’s way, clearly torn between politeness to the stranger in front of her – and a desire to make sure I don’t run off with their second cup – and obedience to her mother.
“I’ll wash this up and bring it over when I’m done,” I say, and she smiles and runs over to help Lila fold their fly sheet.
Speaking of which. I turn back to my own tent and sigh. I need to do the same. But at least now I have coffee.
Packing up the tent is no harder than assembling it, although it does take me two tries to wrestle the plastic sheet back into its bag, as it seems to have absorbed every hint of moisture in the ground overnight. By the time I rinse out the cup, I’m feeling more human – although still in desperate need of more caffeine. A mirror hangs crookedly above the sink, and I catch a glimpse of myself for the first time since I set out.
I’m… different. Less put together, although I’d never go so far as to refer to myself as polished. My hair is escaping my loose braid in wisps under my cap, and my cheeks are flushed and wind-pinked. There’s a light in my eyes I haven’t seen for a while.
“Thank you so much for this.” I emerge from the bathroom and beeline to Lila and Priya. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“I hear that you’ve promised me the soul of your first-born child.”
Lila’s tall and willowy, dressed in practical walking clothes and wearing the ubiquitous hiker’s brown boots. Somehow on her they look like the height of style. She’s tucked a flower behind one ear and even without any make up her face is arresting. Long, thick eyelashes, a proud nose, and cheekbones to die for. But mostly it’s the laughter sparkling in her brown eyes that cinches it: she looks like someone who doesn’t take life too seriously, who knows how to have fun.
“You might be waiting a while. Would you settle for my undying gratitude instead? And perhaps an IOU for a slice of cake if we both make it to Inverarnan tonight?”
“Only if it’s carrot or chocolate and absolutely covered in icing. None of that lemon loaf crap.”
“I’ll be sure to hunt down the most decadent slice in Scotland for you.”
“Then we have a deal.”
We share a conspiratorial smile.
How long has it been since I’ve spoken to a stranger like this? Since interacting with an unknown person has felt not only easy, but fun? For once, I don’t want to run away, or hide in my shell, and I’m not waiting for the ball of awkwardness to drop.
We’re just two women, in a field, sharing a joke.
“Excuse me, but is that a violin case?” My eyes snag on Priya, who is tying a careful knot in the laces of her boot beside her bag.
“Er, yeah.” She glances at it, seeming genuinely confused. “What else would it be?”
“Did you bring a violin hiking?” My bag feels like I’m carting around a baby elephant: I’m half-considering jettisoning everything but a single outfit, and this girl is sporting an instrument like it’s nothing.
“I’m going to be a violinist, so I have to practice,” she says. “But don’t worry. It’s not my good violin. This is my Franz Hoffman. So it’s not the end of the world if something happens to it. Right, Mum?”
Lila watches her with tolerant adoration. “Exactly, kiddo.” And to me, she adds, “It’s not ideal, but Priya’s responsible and she really loves the violin. She’s got an audition coming up next week and she didn’t want to miss out on the practice time. So we figured…”
“Mum!” Priya shakes her hands, staring in mortification at the ground. “You didn’t need to tell herthat.”
“You’re auditioning for the National Youth Orchestra. That’s huge! You think I’m going to miss any opportunity to brag about my brilliant baby? You’re lucky I haven’t hired a sky-writer to scrawl it over Birmingham.My daughter the genius.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Lila lets Priya hang on for a few seconds, before she releases her with a shake of her head. “Not this time.”
“Mum!”
“It’s not my fault you’re a wunderkind.”
“You promised you’d stop calling me that.”
“I lied. Figured I’d start getting you used to the realities of life.” Lila raises her chin. “How’s it working?”
