The Harder They Fall (7 page)

“Is it anything to do with Josh?”

The way he was gripping the sugar dispenser confirmed she had guessed correctly.

“What’s he done this time?”

“Nothing. He’s fine. Very happy, in fact. Or so he tells me.”

“And you don’t believe him?”

“Honestly? I can’t tell whether he’s happy or not. He’s so…” George couldn’t find a word for it.

“Emotionally distant?” Sophie offered. George shrugged. True: Josh could be very cold, but then he could also be overly emotional. Sean could fire him up like nobody else, and whenever Eleanor was down he would come out in sympathy, almost to extremes. But with George, he was exactly that: emotionally distant.

A tray appeared on the table between them, laid out with a pot of tea, cups and saucers, a small jug of milk and two plates of sandwiches. Sophie waited for the woman to unload all of these onto the table, thanked her and then poured the tea. George sat with his arms folded, staring into space.

“I know I’ve asked you this before,” Sophie began cautiously, “and I’ve seen how tetchy the pair of you get whenever somebody brings it up.” She paused to gauge his reaction before deciding it was safe to continue. He knew where this was going, but permitted her to ask. “Are you two actually together now? Romantically, I mean.”

George sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think we are, but you’d have to ask him.”

“If you don’t think you are, then you’re not,” Sophie said bluntly. “Relationships are by consent and negotiation. Both partners have to feel they are benefitting equally and that’s clearly not the case here.”

George was beginning to feel very uncomfortable and Sophie sensed this.

“What did you get me?” He picked up half of his sandwich and peered in between the slices of bread.

“Egg and cress,” she told him, even though he’d figured it out for himself. He glanced up at her and she smiled sympathetically. “I understand that you don’t want to talk about it, so I’ll just be here for you. If that changes, just say. The offer’s open.” She took his free hand and he nodded. Half of the filling fell out of his sandwich and landed on the table cloth with a plop. They both gasped and looked to the woman behind the counter, who was rearranging the cakes and didn’t notice.

“Thanks,” George said appreciatively. “I will tell you about the other thing that’s bothering me though.”

And so the conversation turned to his placement at the prison and how the psychologist was getting him to do all her work for her. Sophie didn’t advise or comment; she just listened, which was precisely what he needed. By the time they had eaten their sandwiches and a butterfly cake apiece, he felt a lot better. They paid the bill and went for a walk through the fields, sticking to the paths and avoiding any overgrowth. George stopped to stroke one of the horses that came over to investigate, amazed at how confident he was with large animals these days, so long as they weren’t of the bovine variety. His time on the ranch evidently wasn’t all a waste and Sophie asked him about it, from a professional perspective, keen to hear how he had overcome his fear of horses, although there was nothing methodical to it. He’d had no choice but to get on with it and the more time he spent with them with nothing awful happening, the less his fear that it might. It was classic desensitisation, coupled with a serendipitous incident involving a stallion (although he didn’t see it that way at the time) that put paid to most of his phobias for good.

When they were ready to go, Sophie dropped him back home and gave him a hug in reiteration of her earlier offer. He kissed her on the cheek and waved her off, then went inside, where the house was still empty, leaving him time to consider his options and deal with the contents of the suitcases. It was Thursday, so Josh would be working late and George would make dinner. Afterwards, if he was still feeling the same, well, he didn’t have a plan really, but one thing was for sure: he couldn’t stand another evening of watching Josh flit up and down the stairs with bathroom cleaner, or washing, or whatever else he decided needed to be done right at that very second, acting as if everything was just the same as always. In fact, he was sorely tempted to take the shredder up to his room and get rid of everything once and for all, because there really was no point in keeping it anymore, not that Josh would appreciate the significance even if he did tell him what was in those suitcases. What he didn’t realise, and never would have predicted, was that Josh had been snooping while he was out and already knew.

Dan was extremely uncomfortable, perched on the far edge of the pickup truck’s bench seat, his head out of the window, partly to avert the nausea, but also because the windscreen wipers weren’t coping well with the mix of heavy rain and mud splashing up from the road. Indeed, one of the wipers was completely dysfunctional and obstructing the view, although luckily not on the driver’s side. All the while, Bhagwan pointed out various features of the landscape that they would have been able to see in clear conditions, but for now Dan had to take his word for it that it was beautiful. They’d been on the road for five hours, which would, again in clear conditions, have put them well past the halfway point, but they had at least another five hours ahead of them, so would soon need to stop for a rest and something to eat. There was a village more or less midway to their destination where they could normally buy local food; however, today there was a wedding and all the villagers were celebrating. It seemed a little ironic that they couldn’t get any food when they were transporting catering equipment, although they were invited to share in the wedding feast. Andy refused; Bhagwan accepted. Dan hadn’t eaten since his meal on the plane from Istanbul, but took up their offer of tea and was very pleased with himself for keeping it down.

Soon they were back on the road again, which was busier than before their rest stop, when they had only passed two other vehicles. It was also much narrower now, and manoeuvring around the other cars was a real and dangerous art. Bhagwan knew the route well and stopped in advance of particularly narrow passages, giving way to oncoming traffic, whilst feeling compelled to repeatedly point out that he wouldn’t usually be this cautious. Andy still kept up the pretence of laughing at this justification, even though it was starting to grate on him. Dan napped on and off, drifting into a light sleep for a few minutes, then awakening if they swerved or hit a rock.

Further up the pass, a wagon was engaged in clearing a landslide, an operation that appeared to consist of scooping up a couple of tons of rocks and mud and throwing it over the side of the mountain. Bhagwan explained that the road was being improved by the Chinese authorities, whereas the wagon clearing the landslide was Nepali and ‘unofficial’. Further on still, they came across a herdsman moving his very small herd of buffalo to new pasture. Bhagwan stopped the truck right in the middle of the road and waited until the lumbering beasts had passed before setting off again. After that there were a few other motorists, including two English motorcyclists, who had stopped to fix a puncture and were having a problem getting one of the bikes started again. While Bhagwan worked on the bike, Andy chatted with the men about where they’d been, sharing his own stories of locations they had in common. Dan stayed in the truck, rubbing his side, where there was a dull ache that coincided with the position of the handle on the inside of the door. He was feeling worse than ever and was desperate to get to the village. Fortunately, Bhagwan, who was a whizz with all things mechanical, had the bike up and running in fifteen minutes, and with less than an hour of travelling ahead of them.

Dan’s head had slumped onto his chest and he had slid sideways so that he was leaning on his brother, the heat radiating through his jacket. He’d evidently been underplaying how unwell he felt, and it made Andy angry. They were now at an altitude of around two thousand metres, which was easy to cope with for most people of a good fitness level, but not a westerner used to living at sea level, and with a fever to boot. He knew that whatever he suggested, Dan would refuse to go along with his advice, and the sensible thing would be to return to Kathmandu as soon as possible. They had planned to stay in the village until morning, to ensure that everything was correctly installed and in working order, before a final night at the hotel and then the flight back to Turkey. Whether Bhagwan would be up to driving a further six hours (at the very least) before tomorrow, was yet to be seen, but a glance at his companion gave him some indication. He was squinting through the mud-smeared windscreen and stifled his yawn when he realised he was being watched.

“Not far now,” he smiled.

“Dan’s sick,” Andy told him. “He’s got a fever.”

“Not far now,” Bhagwan repeated, nodding towards the road in front of them. Andy joined him in squinting and saw that the village was just up ahead. It disappeared from view as they rounded a bend, then reappeared again, the vibrantly painted houses standing out against the misty black of the mountains. Andy gently righted his brother, an action that awoke and startled him. He stretched and groaned and Andy pointed to the village.

“Thank God for that,” he mumbled.

“Why didn’t you say you were so sick?”

“I’m fine!”

“No. You’re not bloody well fine at all. You’ve got a raging temperature and you’re clearly in pain. Do you realise how dangerous it is for you to be in the mountains in your state?”

“Yes, Andy, I do. Or it would be if I was as sick as you think I am, which I’m not. I’ve got a touch of food poisoning or something, but apart from that I feel OK, so stop going on, will you?”

Andy could feel his temper rising and was trying to keep it contained, as they were now slowing down outside a little stone building with disproportionately large blue gates.

“Welcome to Syabru Bensi,” a voice called from the other side of the gates, as a young, dark-haired woman came into view. Her face broke into a broad smile when she saw the oven on the back of the truck. “This is fantastic!” she said, and called back inside the building to her partner, who emerged a moment later to greet them.

“Hello, hello,” he called cheerily, as Dan climbed out of the cab. “I am Michal and this is Zuza,” he introduced in perfect English. “You are Andy and Dan, yes?”

“I’m Dan,” Dan replied, shaking Michal’s hand.

“And I’m Andy.” He closed the door and walked round to greet the two people who had set up the bakery project. “It’s great to meet you after all this time,” he said, shaking first Zuza’s, then Michal’s hand. They had been communicating via email for many months now, so it was a bit strange to be meeting for the first time, when he felt like he already knew them.

“And also to meet you,” Zuza smiled, wandering around the back of the pickup and inspecting the packing material, all of it impressively still intact. “The people here are so excited about this, but you must be tired and hungry. We should go inside.” She said this, although it was apparent that all she wanted right at that moment was to tear off the plastic and cardboard and get at the oven. However, it was going to take several people to lift it from the back of the truck and take it to the building that was to be the bakery, producing the sort of bread and cakes that western tourists craved, hence destined to provide a significant income to this small, poor community. The Jeffries brothers didn’t know much more than this about the project, other than that they’d had some problems transporting the equipment from overseas and up into the mountains. Andy had offered to take on the authorities, and with a few strings tugged in the right places, weeks of coordinating transport, three days of travelling through thunderstorms and monsoon rain, here they were. He was overwhelmed: such an incredible sense of achievement, and yet he knew it was nothing compared to how the young Polish couple who made all of this possible were feeling.

They followed Zuza and Michal inside the small guesthouse, with Bhagwan heading off across the village to pay a brief visit to another ‘cousin’. Dan was glad to be inside of something that wasn’t moving; it was colder up in the mountains than it had been in Kathmandu, and he was struggling because of this, combined with the thinner air. Andy pretended not to notice his brother’s shivering, so as not to detract attention from their hosts, although he was going to have to say something soon. It was getting worse and, in spite of the spread laid out before them, Dan didn’t touch a single thing, choosing instead to sip at the milky tea, occasionally showing some engagement with the conversation, but he was a bit out of it. When the opportunity presented itself, Andy pulled Michal to one side and asked him if he knew where he could find a doctor, hoping the answer wouldn’t be in Dunche, or it would be as well to wait to get back to Kathmandu. Michal told him that there was a group of German tourists travelling through, one of whom was a doctor, and gave him the name of the family who were putting him up. Andy thanked him and returned to the table, where everyone, other than Dan, was eager to finish the meal so that they could unload the oven, and as soon as she felt sufficient rest time had passed, Zuza started dropping hints, asking how heavy it was, how many people they would need to move it, and so on. Michal was a little more tactful, and played along by ticking her off for her impatience. It made Andy laugh, but he could see how cruel it would be to stay and eat any longer, however delicious the food was, even if it was a bit on the spicy side. He signalled to Zuza that it was time, then held back a moment to get Dan on his own.

“I think there’s a doctor staying in the village. I’ll sort out for us to go and see him once the oven is off the truck.”

He expected further protest, but all he got was a shaky sigh and a nod. Dan levered himself up from the stool with the aid of the table.

“No,” Andy ordered. “You stay there. Let’s be honest, you’re not going to be much use in that state.” Dan sat back down again and Andy patted his arm. “Just take it easy, all right? I’ll be done as quickly as I can.”

Outside, the Polish couple, along with several villagers, had already untied the oven and were doing an excellent job of coordinating their efforts, thanks to Bhagwan’s bilingual instruction. Inside, Dan folded his arms and rested his head on top of them, slipping forward on account of his fever sweat, until his forehead came to rest against the table. He was in a deep, dreamlike state, but not quite asleep, and could hear the shouting outside, his brother’s voice calling. So much for being able to cope without him. He lifted his head and grimaced, the throbbing in his temples like tiny pneumatic drills, the effort of moving his arms more than he could take, and he yelled out as pain raced up his torso and across his shoulders, tearing through every muscle. OK, admit it, he thought, you’ve got mountain sickness. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Even the fittest people find they can’t cope with altitude. It doesn’t mean you’re weak.