Page 27 of An Italian Wedding Adventure

‘We’ve obviously both changed.’

She couldn’t tell if he meant that as a good thing.

‘But I have an expedition to the Himalayas. There’s a team taking shape. We were looking at going in autumn this year – I don’t know exactly when.’

Sophie stilled, waiting for him to continue, although a ripple of unease went through her at his further plans to scale dangerous mountains for reasons she’d never really asked – or at least he’d never satisfactorily explained.

‘If you’re here, you won’t like handing it over to someone else. You’ll want to be the one to lead.’

She expected him to bluster and deny it, but he just smiled, a closed-mouth twist of his lips that was mirrored in his eyebrows. ‘Maybe. But if I do it, I’m not going to say “code green” into a radio and I amdefinitelynot coming to the reception.’

‘Roger that, over and out.’

11

Andreas mourned the old Sophie the following morning as he nudged his rucksack impatiently with his toe. He’d piled up the equipment ready to take out to the car, checked and re-checked his emergency kit and now could only stand restlessly by the door with his hands on his hips. When they’d been together, she’d scrambled out of bed as soon as he had in the morning, stumbling after him even though she’d looked like a zombie until about nine.

That last part hadn’t changed. She’d made a beeline for the kettle first thing, with puffy raccoon eyes and a cardigan pulled over her patterned pyjamas, but half an hour after her sacred tea, she still wasn’t ready to go.

That she hadn’t gone hiking or climbingat allover the past eight years gave him an uncomfortable twinge between his ribs. Had he put her under pressure back then? He couldn’t rule it out. He’d struggled, wanting to spend time with her whilst also feeding his rock-based obsessions.

But she’d enjoyed herself on those trips. He remembered the light in her eyes, the growing confidence in her fingers as he taught her to tie knots, the sounds of wonder she made when she looked out at the view. He was tempted by the thought that she might enjoy it again.

‘Sophie?’ he hollered from the front door when he didn’t see her in the kitchen.

She poked her head around the door of her bedroom. ‘There’s no need to shout. I’m nearly ready to go.’

‘We have to hurry to catch the next ferry. There’s a chance of rain late this afternoon and I want to reach two summits before it hits. We need to get moving.’

‘When were you planning to tell me this?’

He drew himself up. ‘I didn’t?’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t read your mind. I can barely read your expressions.’

‘Ah… Sorry.’

She disappeared again before emerging with a day pack and a pair of pristine hiking boots. ‘Don’t worry,’ she anticipated his words. ‘I broke them in walking the dog. I did have a good teacher and I haven’t forgotten everything.’

Every sentence from her seemed to land on him like a flaming arrow.

The lake was looking fickle as they took the traghetto vehicle ferry across. He peered out of the windscreen at the slanted limestone cliffs, draped in cloud. The heaviness in the air hinted at instability. He would never depart for a high-altitude trek with a client in this weather.

‘So, what’s the plan?’

‘The peaks on the western side are lower altitude, but the ascent is steep and the views are good. If the weather holds – and you can keep up a decent pace – we can tick off Monte Castello di Gaino and Cima Comer.’

She retrieved her tablet from her bag and scribbled something with the stylus, flicking through multiple windows and zooming in on a map that she marked meticulously.

‘Is that thing an extension of your body?’

She barely spared him a glance. ‘My brain, actually.’ She lifted the tablet to snap a photo of their approach to Toscolano Maderno, a riviera oasis of warm colours and clay roofs with a line of stone pines along the promenade and cypress trees rising into the jagged hills above.

‘To keep your memories?’ he asked mildly.

This time, she turned her gaze on him. ‘Something like that.’ Then she lifted the device again – between them this time – and snapped another picture. ‘To remember you by, when you’re up on Mount Everest later this year,’ she said with a smile.

Andreas tugged off his cap and belatedly smoothed his hair and rubbed at his three-day beard. ‘Our goal isn’t Everest,’ he said with tolerant smile. ‘It’s Manaslu. And you don’t need a picture. You won’t forget me.’ He winked at her.

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