The laundry was there as scheduled when they stepped outside their rooms the next morning. It smelt of detergent but was clean, ironed and neatly folded. Five dollars’ worth. Jess treated herself to a full set of clean clothes and put the remaining dirty ones in the bag to take back to reception. Simon had said they’d stay another night, so there was time.
They drank tea and ate pancakes with honey, the Chinese opposite shovelling down noodles and rice, alert and talkative, apparently suffering no ill effects from the previous night’s drinking session.
“I’ve been so busy thinking about what you told me last night I haven’t given much thought to Lisa. Where are we going to find her?”
“I don’t expect it’ll be that difficult. We just ask around a bit. Someone will know her. It’s not a huge place, just a bit spread out. Have you decided what you are going to say to her?”
She sighed deeply.
“No. I can’t say I’m looking forward to it. The last thing I want to do is upset her.”
“Fear of the unknown. That’s all.”
They started at the reception desk with the surly owner.
“European woman, twenties, looks a bit like my friend here but has a scar on her face, walks with a limp. They’re sisters.”
The owner shook his head without taking any time to think about it and went back to his calculator. They stepped outside, through the archway and onto the main street.
They walked through the village, passing people going about their business carrying bundles of grass or pushing trolleys full of vegetables, men flicking long bamboo whips at mules laden with gas bottles and heavy wicker baskets, the cowbells around their necks clanging tunelessly as they walked. Men and women were working in the fields on either side, prodding and poking at the rich brown soil with their hoes, forks and spades; small children hung around munching crispy snacks fished from plastic packets, while chickens, dogs and cats roamed freely. Simon asked a couple of people he thought might be able to help, but it seemed no one knew anything.
“You’d think Lisa would have been a minor celebrity,” he said after a while. “There can’t be many people like her around here.” They walked on and they could tell they were reaching the village outskirts as the houses began to thin out, as did the number of people they met. “Let’s go on another five minutes and then we can retrace our steps and explore some of the side streets.”
The path began to deteriorate and the paving slabs gave way to dirt and rocks, signalling the end of the populated area and the beginning of open countryside. Ahead of them the valley opened up, revealing mile upon mile of rice terraces cascading down the slopes to join endless lush paddy fields that stretched into the distance.
Jess had begun to think the whole expedition may have been a waste of time and she felt increasingly despondent. She wanted more than anything else to be back home with her girls and she wanted an excuse to give up. She had a plane to catch and they didn’t have much time left. She’d tried, she would tell Peter in her private moments, but she’d failed. She convinced herself that she would, after all, have to live with a cloud hanging over the heads of her and her family. So be it. Michael had been right. The chances were negligible, and having come all this way, seen the extent of the isolation and the remoteness of life in this far flung corner of the planet, it was inconceivable their two worlds would ever collide.
She stopped and leant on a rickety wooden fence that bordered the path and watched the cloud swirl around the towering, snow-capped peak of Shishapangma, 8,013 metres tall, which dominated the landscape, standing proud and majestic to the south-east. She looked down across a sloping wild flower meadow where a small stone house stood a hundred yards away, wispy smoke curling upwards from its thatched roof. In the fields around the house, goats grazed and chickens pecked, and beyond it a crystal-clear river glistened and sparkled in the sunshine as it danced its way down the valley.
Fifty yards to the right of the house she saw a bright white dome-shaped structure, topped by streams of multicoloured prayer flags that stretched to the ground, a large elliptical eye painted in blue on the side, its walls inset with prayer wheels – a small stupa, like the type she had seen in Kathmandu and in one or two villages along the way. And high above against the deep blue, circling effortlessly on the thermal currents, an eagle, vigilant and alert, guardian of its own domain. Simon rested his arms on the fence beside her.
“What are you thinking?”
She stood, quiet, the sun warming her face, her eyes squinting in the glare, her lungs pulling in the sweet, cool air until her chest could expand no more and she felt the spirit rise within her.
“It’s here.”
She walked back along the path until she found a break in the fence and the rough, grassy footpath that led through the meadow and down to the house. She walked slowly and rhythmically, relishing every step of the journey, her mind overtaken by a rare tranquillity, an awareness of calm and a growing enlightenment. As she approached the house from the right-hand side, a raised wooden platform came into view, and sitting on it, cross-legged, arms extended forward, hands turned upwards in supplication, was the figure of a young woman, long brown hair tied in a ribbon.
Jess continued until she was alongside the figure and then stopped, a distance of ten feet between them. She turned slowly to look at her, but the woman remained still, breathing slowly and deeply, eyes open but unseeing, unwavering in concentration.
Jess waited, unwilling or unable to interrupt, and after five minutes or so the figure bowed her head once, reached for the stick that lay before her, brought it up to a vertical position and, using only the strength in her arms, propelled herself to her feet. She wore a burgundy-coloured smock, streaks of orange and yellow on the sleeves, and black cotton trousers, baggy like culottes, revealing brightly coloured socks under open sandals.
She turned to look at Jess and her face was calm and benign, open and smiling, emanating a depth of goodness and kindness that filled her heart.
“I knew you’d come,” said Alisha.