Page 32 of Somewhere Only We Know

I wondered when her loneliness had tipped over into freedom. Because I doubted mine ever would. ‘How did you get to be so wise when you’re still so young?’

‘Wisdom doesn’t come with age; it comes from experiencing things you don’t always want to.’

‘Even that was wise,’ I countered. ‘I envy you, not for what you’ve been through, but for how you got back up, how you found new purpose. How do I move forward when all that I love is in the past?’

‘I dunno.’ She shrugged. ‘By loving yourself, I guess, by believing that there is a purpose for you, and you don’t know what it is yet.’

I shook my head. I wanted to believe her, but I couldn’t.

‘This trip you’re doing for your daughter, it’s your earthquake. Don’t let yourself drift through this trip, don’t let it be a series of tick boxes. Dig deep inside you, use this time to find what makes you tick. This is your life. Yours. I know you’re grieving. I can see it in your smile: it’s only eighty per cent true. But it’s okay to feel joy, and have fun, and take pleasure from being someplace new. Your purpose is already inside you, waiting for you to notice it.’

I touched my face, and tried to remember the last time my cheeks ached from smiling so much.

‘Mum! Stop grinning at me.’

‘Can’t help it. It’s such a nice surprise to see you. I’ll probably fall asleep with this smile on my face.’

A minibus pulled up outside the guest house. Its roof rack held a mountain of luggage and curious faces were pressed to the windows; my ride was here.

‘To Chitwan.’ Tiff raised her water bottle and tapped it against mine.

‘To Chitwan,’ I chorused, ‘and to finding the missing twenty per cent of my smile.’

Chapter 9

Nepal

‘Namaste.’ A petite woman with shiny black hair greeted us as we climbed out of the minibus, her hands together in prayer. She had a flower tucked behind her ear and wore a green tunic with matching trousers trimmed with pink braid. ‘Welcome to the One World Project in Chitwan. I am Meena.’

Two young men in One World staff T-shirts scrambled onto the roof rack and helped the minibus driver to unstrap our luggage.

The drive had taken four hours from Kathmandu, with a couple of stops en route for surprisingly good coffee and snacks from roadside sellers. My fellow travellers were three eighteen-year-old boys, all friends from school, and fresh off a long-haul flight from London. While they slept, I listened to my audiobook and composed a WhatsApp message to Sadie and the rest of my book group, updating them on my whereabouts and asking if it would be okay to join them again when I returned home at Easter. Replies came back instantly from all of them with a resounding yes, interspersed with countless questions about my trip, expressions of envy and requests for updates. The conversation left me glowing. It was only a small step back to normality, but it felt good to ease myself back into my book-loving community.

We’d traversed hills and valleys, followed the path of sparkling rivers, honked our way through busy towns – at one point I’d seen two men on a scooter, the one at the rear holding a goat across his lap – and finally entered the Chitwan valley.

It was early evening and several degrees warmer than Kathmandu. I pressed my hands into the small of my back and stretched, drinking in the blue sky and inhaling air fragrant with the smell of tropical flowers.

We each introduced ourselves and the boys were led away to their room by the men.

I looked around me, taking in my new surroundings. There were two single-storey buildings: a long L-shaped one where the boys had gone and a second rectangular one which looked like it contained classrooms. Outside was a fenced-in area with brightly coloured outdoor toys, a swing and a couple of little tricycles. The kindergarten, I presumed.

‘Tiff has told me about your journey,’ said Meena, gesturing for me to follow her.

‘From the UK to Nepal?’ I said, falling into step beside her.

‘About your daughter, your journey from loss back to life.’ She smiled kindly. ‘I hope Chitwan is good for you, and you find what you are looking for to take onward with you.’

‘Thank you, Meena.’ I didn’t know what I was looking for, nor where to look. But if time was supposed to be a healer then at least I knew I had that, and that was a start.

‘The volunteers are out on a walk down to the river now, so it is very quiet. Please, follow me. I will show you to your bedroom. Tiff says you need a room to yourself?’ She looked at me, as if trying to gauge what reason I had for the request. I’d never felt more like a diva in my life. I hoped Tiff hadn’t said anything about the lentils.

‘I wouldn’t say need,’ I said, making light of it. ‘More of a preference. Sometimes it’s nice to have company.’

‘I understand. I will let you decide.’ She ushered me across a bare concrete yard and into the accommodation block.

‘There is space in one of the girls’ rooms. This one.’ Meena opened a door and gestured for me to take a look. The smell of ripe bodies wafted out. There were two sets of bunk beds separated by a slim gap. You could have probably held hands with the person in the opposite bed. The floor was decorated with trainers and discarded clothes and tiny bikinis hung from the bedframe. The spare bunk was on the top – of course it was. I didn’t know what was worse: the thought of climbing the ladder, or having three young pairs of eyes averting their gaze from the horror of my big bikini bottoms hanging next to theirs.

‘And there is a single room …?’ I said, backing out of the dorm.