Page 22 of Somewhere Only We Know

‘Well.’ She tilted her head back, threw a peanut up in the air and caught it in her mouth. ‘Life has a habit of going off at a tangent until you’re so far away from yourself that you forget who you are. Are you with me?’

I nodded politely.

‘Staying somewhere unpretentious and authentic, travelling with a backpack instead of a flashy case on wheels,’ her eyes wandered to my nice spinny case and back to me, ‘brings me back to the girl I was at eighteen, who was so certain of who she was and what she was going to achieve in life. Staying in a guest house like this helps keep the money in the local area instead of lining the pockets of the global chains, and it’s like pressing my reset button, I guess.’

I studied her. Mid-thirties, maybe. Far enough away from eighteen to have changed completely, at any rate. ‘Do you honestly think you’re the same girl?’

‘I know I am.’ She slurped her beer. ‘There’s a little more junk in the trunk, but that internal flame still burns the same. How about you?’

‘Why am I here at this guest house?’ I asked. Tiff nodded. ‘My daughter chose it.’

‘Is that her?’ Tiff pointed to the framed photo of the two of us I’d brought with me from home.

‘Yes, that’s Brontë on her twenty-first birthday almost three years ago. My only child.’

‘She has a beautiful smile, and you look so alike. I bet she thinks her mom is cool, coming to Nepal on her own?’

I shook my head. ‘She was the cool one. She died last year.’

Tiff groaned. ‘Oh shoot, Maggie, I’m so sorry.’

We fell silent and both drank our beer. I was used to this pattern. I always felt so sorry for the other person as they racked their brains to follow my revelation with something which didn’t sound clichéd that I usually ended up talking for England. I needed to get better at that.

‘She was going to take a gap year and go travelling,’ I said. ‘Had it all mapped out. So I’m taking her place, to her honour her memory. Nepal was the first stop.’

‘Wow. That’s brave.’ Tiff raised her beer bottle across the gap between our beds and I chinked mine against it. ‘Kudos to you, lady.’

‘Not brave; naive,’ I argued. ‘I found out today that she was going to trek to Everest Base Camp. Which means I’ll be doing it instead. My sister isn’t happy about it. Quite honestly, I’m not thrilled, but that was the deal I made.’

‘With that suitcase?’ Tiff gave a bark of laughter.

‘No, obviously not,’ I said haughtily. ‘I’ll buy what equipment I need.’

She looked at my Nike trainers. ‘I’m assuming you’ve got walking boots already. Because you can’t do it in new boots, they have to be worn in.’

That was a good point; imagine if I ended up with blistered heels and I had to keep going despite the pain. I’d hate that.

‘How’s your fitness level?’ Tiff went on. ‘Even the base camp is like a 5,000-metre climb. It’s a physically challenging trek at high altitude. You can’t rock up and say a single ticket to EBC, please. And you can forget having a private room – they’ll laugh you off the mountain.’

‘I think I’ve proved I can share if push comes to shove,’ I said primly.

‘What about the rest of your group, huh? They’ll have been preparing for months, saving their money for this trip of a lifetime, bucket-list-level expedition. Don’t you think it might be a teeny bit selfish to tag along and slow everyone down?’

‘Okay, fine, I get it,’ I snapped.

She was so annoying. Correct, but annoying.

‘Well, that’s a relief,’ she muttered under her breath.

I could sense that she was dying to laugh. I didn’t blame her: the stupid middle-aged English woman who thought she could trek the world’s most treacherous landscape on a whim. I can do anything, I’d claimed hours earlier to Kat. What an idiot.

I wished I could laugh at myself. I used to be able to, years ago, when life had felt like one big adventure, when I’d got by on finding solutions to life’s challenges and brushing off mistakes as part of the learning process.

But now the stakes were too high to laugh it off. I had three months to tick off all the things Brontë wanted to see and do. I’d made her a promise. I didn’t want to let her down.

I let out a long sigh.

‘Hey, I didn’t mean to come on so strong.’ Tiff swung her feet to the floor and turned to face me. ‘I’m sorry.’