There’s a picture of a boy around Ewan’s age, not quite pushing twenty, with ears that stick out of his mop of messy, curly hair, and a nose he will never grow into. He’s wearing a shirt that’s clearly two sizes too big and squinting at the camera with a gap-toothed smile, holding a beer up to cheers whoever is taking the photograph. He looks loose, relaxed, like he’s about to tell a joke he knows will land.
“Is he meeting you at Fort William?” I ask, already knowing with a sinking feeling that he isn’t.
“No.” Ewan scowls. “He’s dead, yeah. He was my oldest mate and last year he keeled over and died. Sudden cardiac death, they called it. No warning signs. Nothing. He was fit, ran marathons for fun and bollocks like that. One day, we were down the pub, the next his mum’s calling me to tell me he’s socked it.” He closes his eyes. When he opens them, they glimmer with tears. “He was well outdoorsy. Loved all this shit: hiking, camping, mountain biking, kayaking. He was always inviting me on these trips. Adventures, he called them. But I… I dunno. Iwas busy, or I couldn’t be bothered. It’s not really my thing, you know?”
My heart hurts for Ewan, who is too young to be carrying this kind of grief, to be weighed down by all the what-ifs and should-haves that come when someone leaves so suddenly.
“Anyway, this walk, it was his favourite. He did it once when were kids and afterwards he was obsessed. Went on and on about it. I promised I’d do it with him. Mostly to shut him up, you know, but—” His voice goes quiet. “I never did. I kept putting it off. Next year, I said. And then next year again. And then suddenly there wasn’t a next year to have.” His shoulders slump. “I thought we’d have more time. We were supposed to have more time.”
I freeze. I need to say something. Offer him comfort. Tell him things will be okay. But I can feel my Da there, the loss too close, and with the weight of it on me, crushing the air from my lungs, I have nothing to give.
Come on, Angus.For once in your life, don’t be the emotionally stunted man-child they all say you are. Stuart’s voice.
But the words won’t come.
And then someone else is barrelling between us and wrapping Ewan up in her neon-blue arms.
Rowan.
“Where the fucking bejeezus did you come from?” Ewan squeaks.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice muffled. “I was on the other side of the log. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but after this morning, I wasn’t sure if you were going to shout at me again, so when I heard you coming I… hid. Not very brave, I know.” Then she draws back a little so she can look at him. “What was his name?”
Ewan goes stiff as a board. But slowly his body loosens, some of the tension dropping from his face.
“Caleb,” he says at last.
“So you’re walking this for him? To honour him? Keep your promise to him?”
Ewan nods. “Yeah.” The word sounds stronger. “Yeah, I am.”
Rowan releases him from her iron grip. “That’s beautiful, Ewan. Truly. I’m so sorry your friend is dead. That’s unbelievably hard. You’re right: you should have had more time. But I think that what you’re doing with the time thatyoustill have is incredible. And I’d like to help you get through it, if you’ll have me?”
Ewan pulls his cap down and tries to wipe at his face, as if the rest us can’t see the tears that sparkle there.
“And me,” Priya comes to stand beside them, and takes Ewan’s hand. “I’d like to help too.”
“We both would,” Lila joins in.
Silence falls and after a few seconds I realise they’re all looking at me. Waiting for me to join in.
“What do you think I’ve been doing all day? Skipping through daisies?” I ask. “Fucking hell.”
“Not in front of Priya,” Lila admonishes.
“He swore earlier.” I point at Ewan.
“He’s injured. And his friend’s dead. He gets a free pass.” Lila puts her hands on her hips. “You’re more than old enough to know better.”
This. This right here is why I don’t like groups. Too many bloody feelings.
“Come on then.” I slide my shoulder under Ewan’s and hoist him up. “Day’s wasting.”
Together we stagger down the path, leaving the others to catch up.
“See! I told you he was angry-nice.” I hear Priya say behind me.
“You’re absolutely right,” Rowan replies. “He shouted at me the first time I saw him. But then he helped me with my tent. I’ve been calling him the Scottish yeti in my head.”
