They clambered back up the slope and onto the trail. Jess took a moment to look back up the track in the direction from which they had come and then noticed Simon had already set off ahead, so she quickly followed him.
She noticed immediately his pace was quicker than Sujay’s but was relieved to discover she was becoming acclimatised and suffering no ill effects. They walked in silence and soon she found herself immersed once more in the magnificence of the Himalayas. There was no one to be seen, the wilderness complete apart from the vultures, buzzards and eagles circling high above them and the occasional group of yak or tahr grazing on steep slopes across the valley.
Stream upon stream tumbled down the mountains and cliffs to their left, carving through the rocks, rushing under makeshift bridges fashioned from tree trunks and rope. She had no idea whether they were headed in the right direction, but the path hadn’t split at any stage so she assumed that until it did, they couldn’t go wrong. In addition, she felt safe and secure with Simon, content to place her trust in him, and he had already more than adequately demonstrated his survival techniques. And if the worst came to the worst, there was always the satphone to call up a chopper and get them home.
“Where did you learn to speak Nepalese?”
“Spent a couple of years here with the Gurkhas, training them.”
“You’re army then?”
“Not any more. Gave that up a long time ago.”
“So, what do you do now?”
“Oh, this and that. A bit of private security, you know.” She didn’t know and sensed it was not something he was going to talk about readily, so she decided not to push it. Maybe the less you know, the better. But she tried again anyway.
“But you obviously have friends in the Nepalese Air Service?”
“I’ve got friends everywhere.” He smiled at her and she took the hint.
“You haven’t been to Chumtang before?”
“No. It’s a bit off the beaten track, but it’s a reasonably big village and they do lots of trade with China because it’s so close to the border.”
“How do you know?”
“Looked it up. Didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know where I was going. Sujay showed me on a map and I just followed him. But how did you know?”
He laughed.
“Michael. When he set it up with Sujay, he wanted to know exactly where you were going and what you were doing and how long it would take. And then he briefed me.”
“And how do you know Michael?” He gave her a look that suggested she should stop asking so many questions, but she waited and he sighed.
“Just google it. Private security offering invisible protection service to young women travelling in the Himalayan wilderness. Discretion assured.” He shrugged, and they trudged on, side by side, picking their way between the stones and thorny shrubs that littered the trail, the afternoon sun warming their backs as they continued to head north-east.
“Do you know why I’m going to Chumtang?”
“Yes,” he said casually, “but do you know what you’ll find when you get there?” She stopped in her tracks. He kept going.
***
By 5 p.m. the light was beginning to fade and the temperature had dropped to just above freezing, the sun having disappeared behind the mountains an hour before. Just like Sujay on previous days, Simon showed no signs of fatigue, but Jess was feeling tired. Her legs ached, she was hungry and the chill was beginning to permeate her jacket and fleece. She stopped and called to Simon, who had consistently been five yards ahead of her for the last couple of hours.
“How much further?” He stopped and turned around.
“What? Do you mean to the Chumtang Hilton?” She hung her head and sighed. She was in no mood for jokes. He walked back to where she stood, bent double, forehead resting on her poles. “I don’t think we’ll get there tonight. Sujay’s plan was always to get there by tomorrow.”
“So, what do we do?” She was suddenly alarmed. Whatever Simon was, he was not Sujay; and Sujay was an expert at his own job, in his own country. Sujay had been this way before, more than once, so he’d know exactly where they were and would have made plans to provide shelter, just as he’d done before. Simon was thinking the same thing and she had read his mind.
“Well, I assume he must have known there was somewhere around here to bed down. It can’t be far away; we just haven’t found it yet.” His insouciance annoyed her and she looked at him in dismay. But she couldn’t moan at him, after all he had done. All she wanted to do was lie down. “Come on, I bet it’s just around the next bend.” He turned and set off again. She shook her head and followed meekly behind.
***
It was. A single farmhouse set back on one side of the trail with another small wooden shed-like structure opposite and below them, rice terraces stretching down the mountain and out of sight. The ubiquitous plume of white smoke drifted up from the roof of the hut and she could already smell the stir-fried vegetables and taste the lemon and ginger tea.
She stayed on the trail as Simon climbed the steps to the front door and rapped a couple of times, but there was no answer. He looked around at her and tried again.
“Namaste!” he called once, then again. There was a click and shout from their left.
“Ni shi shui!” Who are you?
A man stood by the side of the house, pointing his rifle. Simon instinctively raised his hands. Jess stepped back and the rifle swung towards her. She shrieked. The man shouted. “Zou kai!” Go away!
“He’s Chinese,” said Simon and it filled her with dread. “It’s okay, he’s just a bit nervous.” He’s a bit nervous! Simon broke into Chinese, speaking softly and steadily, gesturing down the trail where they had come from and pointing up to where they were going, and after a few moments, the man lowered his rifle. He barked something that sounded overly aggressive and it worried her, but he then waved at the tiny wooden structure opposite. Simon nodded and reached carefully into his inside pocket and brought out some money. He handed it to the man who snatched at it, barked again and waved him away. Simon bowed and came back down the steps to where she was standing.
“He says we can sleep in the barn.” She turned her head to look. It was dark and featureless and there was no smoke coming out of the roof. Her heart sank. “He doesn’t want us in the house. Foreign devils.” He shrugged. “Might have been different if Sujay had been here.”
“Didn’t you tell him?”
“What? About Sujay?”
“Yes.”
“I guess if I’d said we had a Nepalese guide with us but he got stabbed and had to be airlifted out, it might have got a bit lost in translation.”
She sighed and looked at the shed.
“Oh, great.”
“Come on. It’ll be fine. Just think how good the Chumtang Hilton’s going to feel tomorrow. They’ve got a swimming pool and a sauna and jacuzzi.”
“Have they?” Her eyes lit up. He looked at her, impassive, staring, and it gave him away. She slapped his arm in anger. “Stupid!” He chortled, rubbed his arm and put on a pained expression.
“Come, madam, allow me to show you to your suite,” he said, grinning, and to her total annoyance, she couldn’t stop herself grinning back at him.
The barn was about three metres square, little bigger than a large garden shed, and housed a range of scythes, hoes, spades and other farming tools, together with a number of white plastic tubs, some open, stacked and empty, some closed with lids, all emblazoned with Chinese writing. The floor was stone, covered with a layer of straw, and the air bore a pungent smell; a heady cocktail of manure, ammonia and tar.
A workbench with a vice and a few other tools lined one side below a filthy, cracked window and, incongruous amongst the farming paraphernalia, an aged mattress stood vertically on its end against the opposite wall. Some of the yellow foam padding had burst out of rips in the seams and it featured brown and yellow streaks; stains of indeterminate provenance.
“En suite over there” – he pointed to a corner – “space-saving bed—”
“Enough!” she said, desperately trying not to encourage his puerile behaviour. “I thought this was the loo.” Then, looking puzzled, said. “So, where is the loo?”
“Er, I think it’s wherever you want it to be. Outside.”
“Oh …”
“Look, it could be worse. At least we’ve got a roof.” He dragged the mattress and laid it on the floor. “Here. Take a seat. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Where are you going?” she said, suddenly alarmed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared out the door, pulling it closed behind him, and she unfastened her rucksack. She sat down on the mattress and drew her knees up towards her, wrapping her arms around them and resting her head. She must have dropped off, because the sound of the door being kicked open startled her awake. Simon came in backwards and then turned, a steaming bowl in each hand.
“God, you terrified the life out of me!”
“Just been down the local takeaway. Noodles, vegetables, chilli sauce.” She gaped at him, open-mouthed in delight.
“My hero.” He passed her a bowl.
“Bunch up.” She shuffled along the mattress as he sat down beside her, pulling two sets of chopsticks out of his top pocket.
They shovelled the hot food in without speaking, grunting and murmuring and slurping the noodles as they went down.
“White wine, madam?” He passed her a bottle of Himalayan spring water and she took a large swig. She passed it back and he did the same.
“How did you manage that? What did you say to him?”
“The old boy’s fine. Just as long as you ply him with rupees and stay out of his house.”
“Thanks. What would I do without you?”
“All part of the service.”
Darkness descended quickly and they sat there in the light of their head torches, talking about Sujay, Kathmandu, England and, inevitably, her daughters.
“Would you like to call home?” he said.
“Do you mind?”
“No. Not at all. I think we might get a signal.”
“I thought it used satellites.”
“It does, but it depends on the satellite coming around.”
“I’ll pay for the call,” she said. It would be expensive and she was anxious not to appear presumptuous.
“Er, you already are.” She looked at him, puzzled, then she laughed.
“And I suppose I’m paying for you, too?”
“I suppose.”
“Give me that phone!” She snatched it out of his hand but she was smiling. “What do I do?”
“Just dial as normal.” She waited and it rang, and rang, and when it rang four times, Sandy’s voice cut in.
“Answerphone,” she said. “Hi Sandy and Keira, just checking everything’s okay. I guess you’re out somewhere. No idea what time it is, but I’m fine and hope you are too. Please give a big hug to the girls. Call you tomorrow. Bye.” She ended the call and handed the phone back. She noticed he was looking at her and she ventured a personal question. “Do you have any family to call?” But she was fairly certain of the answer.
“Nope.” She wanted to ask why. She wanted to know more about him and wanted to chat, but whenever she’d got close he’d either changed the subject or walked away. There was nowhere to walk to now, but she didn’t feel brave enough to press him any harder. He got to his feet.
“Where are you going?” she said, trying to suppress the sudden apprehension in her voice.
“To give you a bit of privacy. Best get some sleep.”
“Wait! Where will you go?”
“He’s got another hut round the back. Not quite as salubrious as this one, but it’ll do. Goodnight.” He picked up his rucksack and opened the door.
“No!” she almost shouted, her fear rising. “Please … don’t leave me.” He stopped and turned round and laid his rucksack on the floor.
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t want to be alone.” She felt awkward, cowardly, embarrassed at her helplessness. But the memory was only a few hours old, still raw, and she was fatigued. Alone, in the cold darkness of the night, her mind would never let her rest. It would taunt her and terrorise her.
“Okay. Neither do I.” He said it with a smile but she knew he didn’t mean it. She knew he’d said it just to make her feel better. He’d be one of those who always preferred to be alone, whenever possible, so there was no one to ask awkward questions. And in that moment, Peter’s voice echoed in her head.
“I’ll have you know, I’m a founder member of MYOBS – The Mind Your Own Business Society!”
Simon. Another member.
“Thanks.” She got to her feet and rummaged around in her rucksack, pulling out her sleeping bag and laying it on the mattress by the shed wall. She unzipped her jacket and then noticed he was still standing there, watching, looking awkward. She twirled a finger in the air, smiling. “Turn round.”
“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” He turned to face the door and she stripped to her thermals, climbed into the sleeping bag taking her outer clothing with her to keep it warm, and pulled the zip all the way up so that only her face was visible.
“Okay.” He turned back, studiously avoiding eye contact, and took off his jacket. She saw the brown dried bloodstain on his shirt. He sensed her eyes on him, and twirled a finger.
“Turn round.” She grinned at him and then turned on her side, facing the wooden planks of the shed wall, pulling the sleeping bag over her head. She closed her eyes and listened intently. Listened to the rustle of heavy fabric, the buckles unclipped from the rucksack, the whoosh of his sleeping bag, the rasp of its long, heavy zip and the sound of undressing, imagining each item in turn: fleece, shirt, belt, boots, trousers, and she smiled wickedly to herself. She felt his weight on the mattress next to her and his fumbling with the zip and heard it slide all the way up. The head torch clicked off and they lay still in a silence that would be absolute but for their own barely discernible breathing.
“Are you warm enough?” he asked in a whisper and her eyes darted around in the blackness.
“Yes. Thank you,” she whispered back. She felt him roll over on his side, facing the opposite way.
“If you get cold, just move closer. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Why are we whispering?”
“You started it.”
But she felt warm and safe and secure. She smiled to herself, and despite the horrors of the day, she was still smiling when she fell asleep.