Inside the bothy she found water and a kettle. There was no firewood but she did find plenty of bedding and a solar lamp. She set the lamp on the window ledge and its bloom of yellow brought a homely light to the freezing bothy. With bloodless fingers, she struggled to make herself a cup of tea. She was shaking so hard she kept spilling it. Everything hurt, her heart most of all.
Outside, the storm was intensifying. Was it her imagination or was the wind calling her name? Wrapped in a duvet and three blankets, she huddled in a dilapidated armchair. Her eyelids drooped. She wanted to sleep, but knew that if she had hypothermia there was a real chance she might never wake up.
Then again, would that be such a terrible thing?
If she could rewind the clock, she’d go back to Christmas Eve when she and Helen were making mince pies in the warm kitchen, laughing at the ones that went wrong. She’d spent almost the whole day smiling.
Now it was over. She’d burned her bridges. She had no home and no family. She was unloved. Unwanted.
Her eyes slid shut.
Then they snapped open. No, she refused to give up. Snow would never have let go of life. If one breath of air had remained in her lungs, she would use it to dance and convince everyone around her to do the same. That’s what made Makena so sure that her best friend was alive and only missing.
‘Climbing is like life,’ her father had said. ‘You start slowly. You try one way and if it doesn’t work out or you meet some obstacles, you keep searching until you find another trail. There is always a second chance.’
Makena had tried numerous trails and she’d had second chances and third, fourth and tenth ones. She’d also given plenty of chances to others. And yet here she was, stuck in a stone bothy in a country far from her own.
But if she used Snow’s magic moment principle, things were far from hopeless. On Christmas Eve she’d had more magic moments than she could count, and today, one of the worst days of her life, she’d already had five.
1) She’d woken safe and warm in a cloud-soft bed, two things she’d have given her right arm for in Mathare Valley. That counted as at least one magic moment. 2) The fox cubs had fallen upon her with squeals of appreciation and joy when she’d gone to the shed to feed them. 3) The sun had shown up and bathed the snowy mountains in peach light as she set out on her journey. 4) The silver fox had stopped her from plunging to her death. 5) It had led her to shelter.
So although the outlook was bleak, five special things had happened and she was only halfway through Christmas Day.
How could she give up on life when there were mountains to climb and books to read? Some mountains would be friendlier than others, and some would be downright hostile, but she wanted to climb them anyway or rescue people who got into trouble climbing them (like her).
The fox hadn’t saved her by accident. It had saved her for a reason. Helen had done the same thing. If she’d later changed her mind, then it was up to Makena to convince her she was wrong. First, though, she had to survive until she was found. That could be days.
Makena couldn’t get warm. Shivers ran through her as if she’d taken a dip in a Highland stream. She was well aware that she should get up, make more tea and do star jumps to get the blood pumping through her veins, but she’d done that once and it hadn’t helped. She was drowsy.
All … she … wanted … was … to … s-l-e-e-p.
‘No!’ Makena slapped her own cheeks and pummelled her arms. She had to stay awake.
A memory came rushing back. She and her mother sitting on the banks of the dam at the rose farm. Makena had pleaded again for Mama to tell the story of her mysterious childhood friend, Lucas, the boy who’d ‘lived among fishes’. To her surprise, her mother relented.
The tale began with them growing up in South Africa, where Betty’s father had worked for ten years as headmaster of a school in Maputo. They were inseparable. Among other things, they shared a passion for physics.
‘Lucas was brilliant – almost a prodigy.’
‘But you’re brilliant, Mama.’
‘Not like he was. He was the type of boy you just knew would change the world.’
‘And did he?’
‘Depends on your point of view. One day he didn’t turn up at school. I went to his house and he and his family had disappeared. Nobody knew where. It was as if they’d been beamed up to space by aliens.’
‘I thought you didn’t believe in aliens.’
‘Do you want to hear the story or not?’
Makena nodded eagerly.
‘The loss of Lucas left a huge hole in my life. I was haunted by the not knowing. Why? Where? How? It was two years before I saw him again, in the last place I could ever have imagined – at a healing ceremony performed by a famous traditional healer, a sangoma, from South Africa. Now you know me. I love tradition but have little time for superstition. Even as a teenager, I considered myself a scientist through and through. But I have the greatest respect for those sangomas who use their gifts and skills to help others. Their knowledge of illness and disease and of the healing powers of plants can equal, and even far exceed, that of Western doctors.’
‘Did you talk to Lucas? What had he been doing?’
Her mama refused to be hurried. ‘He was sitting apart from everyone in the shadows. I’d have missed him except that he had a habit of pushing his glasses up his nose. I noticed someone do that and I hesitated. He jumped up and ran to me. We both wept.’
‘Did you ask him why he never said goodbye? Why was he there? Was he sick?’
Betty took a moment to compose herself. ‘He was the sangoma’s apprentice.’
Whatever Makena was expecting it wasn’t that. ‘What happened to physics and studying the universe?’
‘The ones who came to tell him he’d been chosen to assist the sangoma were not interested in his career. They thought they were doing him a great honour. All he had to do was agree and he and his family would never want for anything ever again. Lucas’s parents were desperately poor. He did what he thought best for them and his sisters. Besides, he was flattered that the sangoma considered him so special. He wasn’t to know that the first challenge of his apprenticeship would be to spend six months underwater with fishes.’
Makena was wide-eyed. ‘But that’s impossible.’
‘That’s what I said. But Lucas insisted he’d lived in a cave beneath a lake the entire time. He described it as cold, green and lonely. Before I could question him further, he was called away. I’ll never forget his face as we parted. He said: “Betty, I didn’t choose this life. All I ever wanted was to be an ordinary schoolboy.”’
‘Did you believe it, Mama? That he’d lived for six months under the lake?’
‘No, but he did. So I had to ask myself why. This was a boy who dealt only in fact. He was incapable of lying. I came to the conclusion that there were three possibilities. Number one: he’d been trained to spend a long time – not months but maybe hours – underwater using reeds to breathe, as the old hunters did. Two: he’d spent six months underwater in a parallel universe.’
Makena laughed, but her mother was serious. ‘Many physicists, including Stephen Hawking, are open to the possibility that parallel universes or even multiverses exist. They’ve never been disproved.’
‘And what’s the third explanation?’
‘That Lucas’s heart was broken and he couldn’t think straight.’
‘But what if it was true?’ pressed Makena. ‘What if he really did live underwater?’
‘Honey, please. You know that’s not possible.’
Makena disagreed. ‘You told Uncle Samson that everything can be explained by physics in the end and if it can’t be explained, it’s not the end. So maybe it’s not the end. Maybe one day it will be explained.’
Her mama laughed and admitted she had a point. ‘It was Einstein’s belief that there are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.’
‘I believe in miracles,’ said Makena.
Her mother hugged her. ‘And so do I.’
Shivering in the bothy armchair, Makena understood why the story had come back to her. She too had spent six months slipping in and out of parallel universes. She too hadn’t asked for it. All she’d ever wanted was to be an ordinary schoolgirl with one or two extraordinary dreams.
Unfortunately, in this universe, ice was chugging through her veins. Her head tipped forward. Sleep swooped down.
‘Makena! MAKENA!’
The door flew open. Ray stood swaying in the light of his torch, more snowman than human. He rushed to her and lifted her into his arms. His cheeks were wet and she couldn’t tell if it was because the icicles in his hair were melting. When he spoke, his voice was deep and strong, the voice of a man half his age.
‘Makena, sweet child, oh, thank goodness you’re alive. I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. If it hadn’t been for the fox … Makena, Helen is in pieces. She needs you. We both need you, hen. If it’s all right, I’ve come to take you home.’