She pushed the heavy key into the lock and turned, the mechanism responding with a loud clunk. The door swung open and she stepped tentatively into the room. It was huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows dressed in translucent nets and heavy ornate curtains hung at two sides. A king-sized bed piled high with colourful cushions, elaborately carved wooden furniture and a three-seater sofa sat on a floor tiled with terracotta, adorned in places by the occasional thick rug. A bowl of exotic fruit lay on the coffee table alongside two bottles of mineral water.
The room opened out into a bathroom area dominated by a central double-width bath, seemingly carved out of a single block of black stone. A large porcelain sink with antique brass taps was set into a mahogany cabinet, next to which were a toilet and bidet and a separate wet area with a shower enclosure tiled in the same black stone.
She walked over to a window and pulled back the nets. She could see people down in the courtyard and by the pool, and across the rooftops, the crazy panorama of Kathmandu with its ramshackle architecture and myriad smoke trails drifting inexorably into the deep blue sky.
She plucked her phone out of her pocket and dialled.
“Keira?”
“Jess. Hello. Are you there?”
“Yes. I’m here. What time is it?”
“It’s just gone nine.” Jess looked at her phone which read 14.52 and thought it a bit weird she was five-and-three-quarter hours ahead. No matter.
“How’s everyone?”
“Hold on.” There was a pause and she heard Keira calling in the background, the slap-slap of tiny feet, the unmistakeable squeal and the breathless enthusiasm of the little people she loved.
“Hello, Mummy!” Her face lit up.
“Hello, Sophie.”
“Hello, Mummy!” A second, similar voice chimed in.
“Hello, Lucy. Are you having a nice time with Keira?”
“Yes!” They shouted in unison.
“Are you being good?”
“Yes! We’re making fairies!” And before Jess could say anything else, they were gone, their shrieking and squealing receding into the distance.
“They’re fine. We’re having a great time. We’re making fairy cakes.” Jess laughed at the image; the kitchen a bombsite, no doubt, the girls with sticky fingers and flour in their hair.
“How’s Leila?”
“Oh, she’s sitting quietly on the sofa reading a book.” Jess’s amusement waned a little as she tried to imagine the scene.
“Can you put her on?” She heard Keira whisper something and then her elder daughter’s voice, calm, detached, withdrawn.
“Hello?”
“Hello, darling,” she said, trying to sound happy and enthused, attempting to suppress the dark feelings rising inside her. Stop it! You know Leila never says very much. She asked the same question. “Are you having a nice time with Keira?”
“Yes.” Cold. Disengaged.
“Well, I’m missing you lots and I promise I’ll be back very soon.” But there was no response. “Leila?”
“Why have you gone away?” It sounded plaintive and disconsolate, yet accusatory. Judgemental. Jess tried to maintain her composure, but almost immediately she felt it cracking.
“Oh, Leila.” How do I explain? “It’s just a few days, baby. I’ll be back before you know it.” But her heart was bursting and, without warning, the tears came. “Leila? Leila?”
“She’s okay, Jess. Believe me,” said Keira, wise beyond her years.
“Keep telling her, Keira. Keep telling her I’m coming back. I can’t bear it if she might think I’ve left her again.” She wiped a cheek with the back of her hand.
“I will. Don’t worry. Go and do what you have to do and get back here. We’re all missing you.”
She dozed for a while then showered and dressed in a white linen shirt and jeans. Down in the reception area, Sujay was waiting for her.
“Hello, Miss Jess. Are you refreshed?”
“Yes thanks, Sujay. Are you hungry? Would you like to have some dinner?” She didn’t feel terribly hungry, but thought it only polite to ask.
“Oh no. Thank you. My wife will be waiting for me at home. She will be cooking something. Perhaps we can take some tea? Lemon and ginger?” She nodded and he shouted something unintelligible to a passing waiter who bowed and scurried off.
They sat on sofas opposite each other and Sujay spread a map out on the table between them, sliding it around so they both could read.
“We are here in Kathmandu,” he said leaning over the table, pointing at the spot. “Tomorrow we take a bus up here to Syapru Besi” – his finger tracked a winding road north-west and then north – “which is about one hundred and forty kilometres.”
“Oh, not that far then.”
“Yes, Miss Jess, but—”
“Jess,” she jumped in and he nodded, smiling.
“But this is not your M1. The road is very winding and not very smooth, and it will take about seven or eight hours.”
“Oh. Okay.” She felt a little stupid. She still had a lot to learn.
“And then we have to walk east and follow the route of the Langtang Khola, that’s the river, to Langtang, which is about thirty kilometres and will take us about three days.”
“There are no roads, then?”
“No,” he laughed. “No roads. Just trails. And then we pick up the trail that goes north-east across the mountains almost to the border with China. To the village of Chumtang. And this is another three days.”
“Lisa … Alisha is in Chumtang?”
“Yes.”
“Have you warned her we are coming?”
“It’s not possible. There is no phone signal there.”
“So how do you know she’ll be there?” Sujay sat upright and smiled at her.
“She will be there. This is her home. There is no reason for her to leave and nowhere for her to go.” Jess frowned. It was going to take them a week to get there, so presumably a week to get back. That’s two weeks, plus a day or more in Chumtang. She was going to miss her flight back.
“Is there not a quicker way? I can’t be away for more than two weeks.” She didn’t mean to sound agitated, but despite having been away for only a few hours, all she could think of was Leila and the girls; especially Leila. She’d been gone less than a day and already felt homesick; guilty she had rushed off and left her. Left them all. She began to regret ever starting out on this mad adventure. She’d never imagined it would be so difficult. They tried to tell me.
“No. I am sorry. If we walk for longer each day we can get back, maybe, but remember we have to think about the altitude. How are you at walking at altitude?” Jess looked at him without knowing how to respond. Altitude? Before she could say anything, the waiter brought the tea and set it down on the table.
“We’re not doing any mountain climbing, are we?” she asked, unable to conceal the consternation she felt. She had visions of ice and snow and pickaxes and ropes. It was inconceivable. It was impossible.
“No, no, no. The walking is not too difficult. But the trails go up and down and we will get to four thousand five hundred metres at the highest point. You may not be able to go too fast and you may get a headache.”
“Oh, I can manage a headache,” said Jess, her mind put at ease. Or so she thought.
“Yes, but you might feel sick too. Sick and a headache. It’s called altitude sickness and it is not good. If you get altitude sickness and it’s severe, then you may not be able to carry on.” Jess couldn’t quite grasp the concept so decided the best thing was to dismiss it.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Jess. Neither you nor I know whether you will be okay. It affects different people in different ways. It does not matter if you are old or young, fit or not fit. Anyone can get altitude sickness and there is no medicine you can take to stop it, once it starts, apart from paracetamol or ibuprofen. If you get it bad and you don’t descend immediately, then you could die.” She looked at him in horror. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Go home now. Leave it! She took a sip of tea. The lemon and ginger somehow felt invigorating. Medicinal. She lifted her head and banished the negative thoughts.
“Well, then. We shall have to see. There’s only one way to find out.” She was pleased she hadn’t done any research on altitude sickness before she came, or she might not have come at all. She trusted Sujay. Trusted he’d keep her safe, and if, for some reason, she couldn’t get to see Lisa after all, then at least she’d tried. There was no giving up. Not yet.
“Okay. Do you have good walking boots?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have sleeping bag and warm clothes?”
“Yes. All my stuff is new.”
“Okay, then. I suggest you get some food and go to bed early and have a good sleep. I will be back tomorrow. We leave at eight.” He folded up the map and they both stood up.
“Sujay?” she said, still clutching her teacup. “I’m not Lisa’s twin sister.”
“You are her sister though?”
“No.” She looked at him and he frowned, obviously confused. Who wouldn’t be? “We’ve never met before.”
“You are not a relative?”
“I knew her father.”
“Colonel Peter?”
“Yes.”
“Colonel Peter had two identical daughters, but you are not sisters?” She could see this would take time.
“I’ll tell you along the way.”
***
She had dinner in the Krishnarpan, one of five choices of restaurant within the hotel, notable for its traditional Nepali cuisine. She sat on a cushion on the floor at the end of a long table, invited to join a group of adventurers from England the night before their flight to Pokhara and the start of their trek to the Annapurna Sanctuary. She chatted with a middle-aged couple who were on their eight or ninth trek and their third visit to the hotel, and they managed to give her some reassurance that, in all probability, she’d be fine at altitude. Just take it easy, they said. Bistari – slowly, not too fast. If they can do it, I can do it.
The woman expressed surprise and concern that she was travelling alone with a guide and was curious to understand the reason for the trip, but Jess remained non-committal, something in which she was well practised.
She ate samaya bajee, a mixed hors d’ouevres, then dal bhat, a traditional vegetable curry with lentils and rice, and finished off with fresh fruit. She declined the wine, determined to keep a clear head, but it was well after midnight before she could make her excuses and return to her room.
She rang home again before going to bed. She’d calculated it was around 7.00 p.m. UK time.
“How’s Leila?”
“Oh, you know Leila, Jess. She keeps herself to herself.” Like mother like daughter.
“But she’s not … unhappy?”
“No. She bathed the twins and put them to bed. She’s up there now, reading them a story.”
“Is she now?” Jess was pleased if it meant Leila’s reading was getting better and proud her eldest seemed confident enough to assume responsibility for looking after the twins.
“Yes – oh, wait a minute, here she is. Leila, it’s Mummy.” There was a short pause while the phone changed hands. Jess’s eyes darted around in anticipation.
“Hello?” Again, no emotion. No warmth. Like mother like daughter.
“Hello, darling. I hear you’ve been working very hard.”
“I have given Sophie and Lucy a bath and I have read them a story and now they are fast asleep,” she said proudly.
“Well done!”
“I will look after them for you, Mummy. So you don’t have to worry about us.” Jess choked back a tear.
“Love you, darling.”
“Love you, Mummy.”
“Bye, sweetie. Can I speak to Keira, please?”
There was another pause while Keira came back on the line.
“Hi.”
“I’m leaving early tomorrow. I don’t think I’ll get much of a signal for a while, so I won’t be able to call.”
“We’re okay, Jess. Honest. Call us when you get a chance.”
“I will. Bye.”
She ended the call and stared out of the bedroom window at the dim, sporadic lights of Kathmandu and over the rooftops in the direction of the mountains to the north.
Peter might have had the same view, she thought. Five years ago, he was preparing for a similar journey, at least as far as Langtang, but with little hope of finding Lisa alive. However difficult the trip might be for her physically, she wasn’t burdened by the same mental pressure as Peter. She wasn’t alone in the world. She had a family waiting for her and she would get back to them just as soon as she could.
She would find Lisa for him and she would tell her, and she would try to put things right. It was the least she could do.