Part of Claire’s brain wondered at what point Dave’s patience would snap and he would either push her over the edge or give in to her demands to be freed from the harness. The pep talk before they left the centre to walk down had informed them all that even those terrified of heights would be encouraged to descend the 17m drop into the gorge and that the thrill of abseiling down the side of one of The North Pennines' highest waterfalls always encourages cheers and applause. Claire glanced down at the group of faces peering up at her from below.
I don’t want a sodding clap I want a drink.
She picked out Josh’s face from the crowd. He is not going to let me hear the end of it if I chicken out now. It’s his fault I’m here in the first place. Him and sodding Carl.
Claire let her mind drift back to the email she had received from Carl that morning, just after check-in at Alston YHA.
Claire, we feel your blog needs to be spiced up a bit. Happy Cola are concerned that you are not promoting the outdoors enough. Hiking and biking is all well and good but they want to see more adrenalin. Try for some rock climbing, abseiling, maybe a sky dive. Make sure you post pictures. Carl.
The swearing had gone on for some time but when she had shown Josh the cause of her expletives, he'd merely laughed and said “Good on him.”
She wondered now whether Carl and Josh were in secret collusion to maximise her humiliation.
“If you set Carl up to this Josh you can kiss goodbye to your free ride.” Claire’s words were lost in the spray from the falls. She turned back to face Dave and caught him exchanging grimaces with a colleague. He quickly smoothed his face back into a mask of patient concern but it was too late.
Roll your eyes at me will you, you silly old man? We’ll see about that.
Claire took a short step to the edge of the gorge, threw a glance at Dave’s mate to make sure he was gripping the rope, and tipped herself backwards. Her feet skidded on the slippery wall and all plans of walking slowly down the gorge vanished. Her stomach shot up to her chin as she fell down the cliff-face until she felt the harness catch under her bottom. The motion caused her to spin and her vision filled with alternate views of white water and dark gorge. Freezing spray drenched her and the roar of the rushing water rang through her head.
The world stumbled to a halt as Claire hung suspended from the bright yellow rope, the only primary colour in a field of muted greens and greys. The few seconds it took to lower her to the ground dragged by but eventually Claire felt her boots touch rock. Traitorous knees failed to support her and she landed in an ungainly heap on the wet stone as the rest of her group whooped and clapped.
“Good on yer, Claire.” Josh rapped his knuckles on Claire’s helmet and beamed at her.
She glared up at him for a moment before reaching up her hand. “The least you can do is help me up, you bastard.”
“Hey, it wasn’t my idea. You said you needed high-adrenalin stuff for Blog Fodder. Well, how’s your heart rate? Is she pounding?” He pulled Claire to her feet and leaned in close. “Nice arse by the way. Great view.”
Claire felt the blood heating her frozen cheeks. She considered pushing him into the water but decided she’d save her vengeance for later.
“I hope you got a picture of something other than my rear, I’m not putting that on the blog.”
“Aw, go on, that’ll get the punters coming for sure.” He winked. “No pun intended.”
It was only once she had trudged all the way back to the centre and handed in her gear that Claire realised what he had said.
“I’ll get you, Josh. Just you wait.”
***
NINE
“Josh?” Claire looked over at the thatch of messy blonde hair; all she could see of her travelling companion as he lounged on the sofa with a paperback raised over his head. She wanted to grill him about his blog. She had tried several times already but each time he seemed to escape the question. Hopefully I’ve got him pinned now.
Josh twisted round to face her, his eyes veiled, almost wary, as if he knew what she wanted to ask.
“Er, can you remember the name of the guy holding the rope this morning?”
Josh's frown relaxed into a wicked smile that set fire to the amber flecks in his brown eyes. “What, you mean the one who pissed his pants when you threw yourself off a fifty foot cliff without checking he was ready?”
“I checked he was holding the rope. It's not my fault he was looking the other way and burned his hands. He should have been paying attention.”
“You’d been hovering at the edge like a scaredy cat for nearly twenty minutes; you can't blame the guy for getting bored.”
Claire flushed at the memory. Who knew I was scared of heights? It had never been an issue before. The highest things in her life prior to starting this assignment were her six inch steel stilettos.
“The name?” Her voice rang with dire consequences if Josh pursued the current conversation. She had heard every joke he knew about being a wimp.
Josh grinned. “Bill. His name was Bill. Poor burnt Bill.”
Claire raised an eyebrow and Josh retreated behind his book, his chuckles drifting across the room like cigarette smoke.
Why does he keep evading enquiries about his blog? Claire stared first at the dirty blonde hair then at her iPad screen. He was the one who told me he wrote a blog. What’s the big secret? She tried to recall exactly what Josh had said. Something about keeping in touch with the folks back home.
She opened her search engine and typed in “Aussie down under,” before realising that was going to return a million results. She typed a few other phrases but they were equally generic and useless. She had no idea how to find out what Josh’s blog was. Or why it was important to her to do so. I guess when you share a room with someone, even if it’s just because it’s more convenient, you want to know something about them. As the words walked through her head Claire realised she didn’t even know Josh’s surname or the part of Australia he was from. It’s as if he doesn’t want anyone to be able to trace him. Yet if he’s really in hiding why is he travelling with me? Surely there are easier ways of getting around and staying invisible.
Claire shook away the thoughts and returned to the tricky task of writing her account of the morning’s abseiling escapade without portraying herself as a complete idiot. The words refused to come, even with the pictures Josh had taken. Ignoring the dozen shots of her bottom framed by the harness she managed to find one or two that stood out. A nice profile shot of her gazing back up the waterfall, one that seemed to say I did that. Another of her with the whole group, everyone beaming. He certainly captured the essence of the moment. I’m impressed. And still Claire couldn’t dislodge the voice of curiosity that kept prompting that unwanted question.
What does Josh blog about. And, more importantly, what is he hiding?
***
TEN
“What do you mean it’s closed?”
“I’m sorry,” the man on reception explained, “some of our hostels are only open at certain times of the year. University vacations, that kind of thing. Durham and Carlisle are both halls of residence, so they’re only available in the summer.”
“Bloody students. I want to go to a city. I want a Starbucks, I want to feel pavement beneath my feet instead of dirt.” Claire swallowed the lump in her throat and wondered if she was due.
The man smiled as he would to a toddler demanding chocolate. “Why don’t you try Cockermouth? The hostel is only ten minutes’ walk from town.”
“Do they have a Starbucks?” Claire could hear the petulance in her voice and hated herself for it.
“Excuse me?” Claire heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see a girl in a red anorak smiling at her from behind designer specs. “There are Starbucks at Penrith Center Parcs which is on the way to Cockermouth from here. Or you could go via Carlisle, it’s not that far out of your way. Spend the day in the city before heading out to the hostel later?”
Claire beamed at this girl who seemed to be speaking a language she could grasp. “Thank you so much. Do you work here?” She doesn’t sound like a local. I can understand what she’s saying for a start.
“No I’m one of the bloody students at Carlisle Uni, sleeping in the Hall of Residence that doubles as a hostel in the summer. Sorry.”
Her unapologetic grin brought a flush of blood to Claire’s cheeks. She opened her mouth to apologise but the girl was still talking.
“My mates and I came for the weekend to go hiking and we’re just heading back to the city now. We have lectures this afternoon.”
It seemed she might continue her monologue but a voice called out from deeper in the hostel.
“That’s my boyfriend. I have to go. I hope you find Starbucks. It’s in the pedestrian bit in the town centre if you do go to Carlisle. It’s not a big one, but a skinny latte is a skinny latte right?”
Claire watched the girl hurry out in response to a second, more urgent, summons. Funny how coffee can give a common cause to the most unlikely of meetings. She tried to remember if she had been that forward or sassy as a student. It seemed so long ago now, even though it was less than a decade. I was probably worse.
“So, do you want me to book you a dorm at Cockermouth Miss?”
The broad accent of the receptionist cut through Claire’s thoughts. “I just need to check whether Josh wants to come.”
Who knows what Josh wants? It’s as if he’s done one of those teenager-adult swaps, like in the movie with Tom Hanks.
Claire tracked Josh down in the garden where he looked like he was practising slow rave dancing. Claire guessed it was probably taekwondo or t’ai chi or one of those classes she’d seen girls doing at the gym when she went in for spinning. It made her numb with boredom just watching it, although as Josh had stripped to the waist, despite the freezing temperature outside, its appeal was increasing.
She stood waiting for him to finish, watching the muscles shifting under his smooth tanned skin. She became aware of an urge to walk over and run her hands across his back, to plant a kiss where his shoulder met his neck. When it looked like he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, Claire gave a little cough.
Josh completed the move he was doing before bringing his hands to his sides and turning round.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’m about ready to move on.” Claire tried to keep her gaze on his face rather than following the line of hair that ran down his chest and into his trousers.
“Where to?” Josh responded without meeting Claire’s eyes.
“Um, Cockermouth I think. Carlisle is only open in the summer holidays and the rest round here are all bunkhouses.”
Josh smiled at that and his face lost some of the new sternness. “You’re going to have to face a bunkhouse eventually you know. They’re not much different to hostels, just a bit more remote.”
“In the summer maybe. I’m beginning to think they started me up here just to wind me up. Half the hostels are closed and the rest are in the arse-end of nowhere.”
“Well you said the entire point of the mission was to make you quit your job. What better way than to chuck you in it?” Josh leaned over and retrieved his jumper from the floor. His voice was muffled as he pulled it over his head. “Why don’t you head to London or somewhere, do some city hostels until the spring at least?”
Claire thought about getting lost in London. Could she cope with staying there and not frequenting her usual luxury hotels? At least there were shops and Starbucks. “That’s not a bad idea you know. The assignment said it was up to me what order I did the hostels in. I could be in London in a few hours.” She looked at her watch and was surprised to see it was mid-morning already. Her muscles were still sore from the abseil and what she wanted, more than anything else, was a skinny latte.
“No, sod it, let’s stick to the plan for today. I’m going to Cockermouth. Are you with me or staying here?”
“Will you go to London tomorrow do you think?”
Claire tried to read the expression on Josh’s face. “Is that why you suggested it? Do you need to be further south?”
“I need to work and it’ll be easier in suburbia.” Something in his tone suggested to Claire that she wasn’t getting the full story. Nothing new there then.
“Then, yes, I will be heading south. I might go to Bristol rather than London. Maybe even Liverpool.”
“Okay, count me in.”
Claire wondered whether her decision to try Liverpool rather than London had anything to do with choosing not to spend six hours in her tiny car next to the temptation of Josh’s smooth skin.
***
ELEVEN
Claire settled into the squeaky seat and wrapped her hands around the solid white cup. Her smile spread wide as she raised the drink to her lips and sipped at the froth, glad Josh wasn’t there to see her milk moustache. She felt the air exhale from her lungs in a contented sigh. It wasn’t the biggest Starbucks or the most up to date. But the coffee always tasted the same. The caffeine zinged through her body, carried to the furthest tips of her fingers by her grateful blood.
She glanced up through the window for the eighth time. Stop looking. It’s no concern of yours where he’s gone. Another voice in her mind said no concern but still intriguing. We’d barely parked when he said See ya later and legged it.
Claire took another long slurp of her latte, letting the sensation of civilisation wash through her, warming her right to the centre. With a sigh she placed the cup back on the table and took out her Lonely Planet guide. If I’m only going to be in the Lakes for a day or so I’d better find something noteworthy to do. I don’t want Carl making me come straight back. I intend to spend at least a week in the next city we come to, even if it is Liverpool.
She flicked idly through the pages around Keswick and came across a picture of a snowy ridge of mountains with the title Skiddaw. That looks the ticket. A picture of me up there should shut Carl up for a while. I wonder if I can climb up for a photograph without having to walk along it. It’s not far from the hostel, maybe it’s not a bad thing that Cockermouth wasn’t available.
There was a tap on the window and Claire looked up automatically. A gentleman in shirt and tie was peering through the glass searching the interior of the coffee shop. As his gaze locked with Claire’s the clean-shaven face broke into a smile. Claire automatically smiled back although she had no idea who the man was. He does look familiar. God I hope it’s not another client. She hadn’t bumped into anyone she knew since the services on the way to Berwick and definitely wanted to keep it that way.
As if in response to her smile the man raised his hand in a wave and headed for the door to the café. Bugger, he’s coming in. She plastered her best client-facing expression on her face and sat up straighter in her chair, sliding the Lonely Planet guide off the table into her lap.
“Hey Claire, still here? How many coffees have you had? Am I going to have to tie your arse to the seat so you can drive us to the hostel?”
The words, as much as the Aussie twang, confirmed to Claire what her eyes could not credit.
“Josh?”
“Of course it’s me, dingbat.” He slid into the seat opposite, a faint blush of colour peeping through his brown cheeks. His eyes slid away from hers and he made a show of looking round the room as if taking in the scene.
“So this is what we drove all the way here for? It’s nothing special.”
“It’s not the décor it’s the drink.” She wrapped her hands protectively around the coffee mug and drank the tepid dregs.
“Now I’ve heard that said about a bar but never about a coffee shop. You’re one strange girl.”
“I’m strange?” Claire’s voice rose in indignation. “I haven’t suddenly reappeared with a spanking haircut, shave, and shirt and tie still with the shop-bought creases in. What gives?” The words were out before she could stop them, despite vowing to herself that she wouldn’t questio
n him. Sure enough a veil dropped across Josh’s face and his eyes lost their sharp focus.
“I had to Skype the folks. Mum likes me to look smart.” They both looked down at his hands where they twisted like coiled snakes on the table-top. “Anyway are you going to buy me one of these famous coffees or shall we head back to civilisation? Cities cramp my soul.”
As the words settled softly in Claire’s mind like fresh snow she was aware of a sense of loss. Whose loss she couldn’t say, or even why she had the feeling. It seemed like Josh was floating away on an iceberg in a choppy sea. She shook off the strange sensation and gave him her widest smile.
“Sure, let’s head to Keswick. I’m thinking of hiking Skiddaw tomorrow.”
The effect was instant, like changing the batteries in a run-down appliance. Josh sat up, his face beaming. The air of ancient injury dropped away and he became young again.
“Sweet.”
***
TWELVE
“How are the boots?”
“Better than the Helly Hansens although it pains me to admit it. It’s nice not to be wearing jeans too. I’m glad I stopped by Cotswolds before we left Carlisle.”
“Well done.”
Claire beamed at Josh as if she had passed a test by getting the right gear. Even though he hadn’t been on the Pennine Walk he had read the blog post and seen the pictures.
“I can’t imagine how you didn’t get frost bite or at least torn muscles hiking in the snow in jeans. Idiot.”
“Thanks.” Claire paused to catch her breath. “Let’s say I’m learning on the job.” She turned to take in the view of Derwentwater nestled below amidst hills and woodland. Even on a bitter winter day it was quite a sight. “It must be impressive in the summer with a blue sky and a bit more green.”
Josh turned and walked back to where she stood. He reached over and held his hand to her forehead. “Are you ill?”
“No I feel great, why?”
“You’re being complimentary about the scenery and the nearest city is miles away. Are you sure you’re not crook?”
Two-Hundred Steps Home Volume Two Page 3
