55

ZOE

After dinner with our hosts, a couple in their sixties, we shared the space around the fire with our drying clothes. Martin was on Gilbert’s case again—according to plan, but not with a lot of subtlety.

‘They seem like a happy couple—nice lifestyle. I mean, out here, you barely know what country you’re in.’

Gilbert shook his head. ‘A plate of pasta and sauce leaves no doubt.’

‘Only because it was so good. Pasta is universal.’

‘True. For an Italian, our host was excellent.’

Renato had done the fun stuff like pouring the wine and sharing the meal with us. We hardly saw his wife, who had made the wonderful pasta. She was stuck in the kitchen, running after six guests and her husband. For Camille’s sake, I pointed this out.

‘Hey, he’s the one getting up early,’ said Martin. With the moving south and the lower altitude, the weather had gotten hot again and we’d asked for an early breakfast, then realised that we were putting them out. But Renato had insisted and volunteered to cook breakfast for us at 6.30 a.m.

‘So, Camille and I will get some sleep,’ said Gilbert, standing. Sarah and Bernhard followed, but Camille didn’t move.

Martin and I had so far had no luck trying to convince Camille of Gilbert’s strengths. Time for the last idea on the list.

‘Do you think Gilbert’s hoping he will be forgiven?’ I asked her.

‘By me or the Pope?’

‘Maybe by God? Then by you?’

Camille’s expression suggested it wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.

‘It’s not going to work,’ I said to Martin as we went to bed.

‘It all helps,’ said Martin. ‘Maybe she’ll have to try the hostel and fail before she’ll go back to Gilbert or call him in.’

‘Hardly fair to Gilbert.’

‘He’s made that choice. Love isn’t about fairness.’

And Martin had said he’d do the same for me. Whatever my dreams were, he wanted to be a part of them. Nobody had ever shown that sort of devotion to what I wanted before. I wished I could get Camille to appreciate that too.

Which of course meant I would go to Sheffield. I’d been obsessing about it, and it wasn’t the most important thing. Even if his apartment was next to smokestacks and had no sea view. Even if pea soupers would hide whatever the view was anyway. Now I’d made the decision, I felt the tension fall away.

I’d been worrying about Camille, but Martin had never wavered in supporting me—even with Sarah’s competing needs to deal with—and I could talk to him in a way I hadn’t been able to with either Manny or Keith. Sometimes he avoided answering, but only to give himself time to think. Oftentimes he saw things that I didn’t. More than he had the first time around.

He’d changed because of me, even when he hadn’t expected to be with me. Whether it was walking, Sheffield or San Francisco, this was who I wanted to be with. It was all about the person. The place didn’t matter. Well, not as much.

It was dark when the alarm on my phone went off. Outside the air was still cool; by the time we all went down to the breakfast room, with its windows looking across the valley, there was a golden hue on the horizon. We heard movement in the kitchen and caught the aroma of fresh pastries and strong coffee. Renato setting a good example for Gilbert.

Then Renato’s wife—whose name we hadn’t even caught—emerged with an expression of ‘Men—what do you expect?’

‘I do not think she would let him in her kitchen,’ said Camille.

I was feeling suffused with energy—a good night’s sleep, a balanced breakfast and fruit in my pack. The leg numbness was still there but the burning sensation had gone. I wasn’t going to think about it.

Bernhard and I took off first, barely noticing the mile climb back to the track. The sunrise sent a pale-yellow light dappling across the mountains, and the silhouettes of the wind turbines created a striking—and for me harmonious—juxtaposition of old and new. The chapel at the top of the hill added another element to the composition.

When we reached it, and the others caught up, Camille and I went in to do the candle ritual.

Since the conversation with Camille about Keith and whether I would have stayed with him, I had found myself also thinking about Manny, my first husband, who I had left when it became clear he couldn’t deal with the responsibility of fatherhood. Did we ever talk about hopes and dreams? Briefly, I guess, before we’d been overwhelmed by parenting the girls.

Looking around me at the panoramic views of farmland and forests, small pockets of mist engulfing sections, I felt a prickle of what my getting pregnant had cost him: of the freedom that we had both lost. The pregnancy had been as much his fault as mine, and I would never regret having my daughters…but when I lit the candle for him, it was the half of my responsibility for the timing, the lack of discussion and choice that I was saying sorry for.

Camille wasn’t walking easily and nearly tripped on the way out, but Martin indicated that he, Sarah and Gilbert had it in hand, so Bernhard and I took off again, leaving behind views all the way to the horizon, as the climb took us into forest again.

The dawn’s light-show magic was followed by exquisite patches of bright-red and orange fungi—circles of red toadstools which would have delighted my girls when they were little and delighted me now. It was fun even at my age to think of the fairy world of the imagination here in this forest. Bernhard seemed bemused by my interest in them. Gilbert would have been the same—they were not going to be edible.

‘For me, the walk is about being one with the universe—feeling nature’s power and using it to re-energise,’ I said.

‘Time to think,’ said Bernhard. ‘Too little deep thinking at university.’

‘What are you thinking about?’

‘What I do with my life. There is no bigger question than that.’

He and Sarah had so much time to work it out. Or at least they thought they did. Where did that time go?

‘Is Sarah part of your thinking?’

‘Is this question yours or Martin’s?’

‘Mine. Being young can be full of joy and possibilities—but it hurts too. You’ve been great meeting her physical needs—shit, I mean breakfast—’

Bernhard was laughing.

‘But don’t forget she’s looking for meaning too. Being a physician is important to her. She was right there for Camille when she had heat stroke.’

‘Of course. But I’m telling her, if she wants to save people, building turbines will have more impact. Sarah told you I am thinking of this?’

‘No, but you seemed passionate about it yesterday. Which was great. But it’s not a competition.’

Bernhard grinned. ‘Maybe she could come to Africa with me. That would mean she would not have her father around. A good solution for both of us, perhaps?’