Page 14 of The Sky Beneath Us
‘Look at this,’ he said, showing me a tiny shoe that fitted easily into the palm of his hand. ‘When the shepherd and his family were living here, they’d have put this wee shoe in a niche in the chimney piece to keep the fairies from stealing away their bairn. It’s an old tradition.’
‘How on earth did you know it was there?’ I asked, gently stroking the smoke-cured leather.
‘I was sleeping here one summer’s night, with no need for a fire, and a crow came tumbling down the chimney. I suppose it was nesting up top, or maybe just looking for trouble, as crows often do. It dislodged the shoe. Once I’d chased the bird out the door and dusted off the soot, I realised what this was. It will have been here for a hundred years or more, I’d guess. So I popped it back. Not wanting to be stolen away by the fairies myself, you understand.’ He set the little shoe on a rickety wooden shelf above the fireplace and then stooped down to light the sticks.
We soon had a good blaze going and the bothy warmed up, despite the nip of frost in the clear night air outside. Through the age-warped glass of the single window, the first Samhain stars appeared, pinpricks of light in the darkness. We spread a blanket on the floor and from the basket Callum produced some slices of cooked ham, a jar of Mrs Gillespie’s homemade chutney and a neat stack of shortbread. He tucked two potatoes into the fire to bake and then handed me a bottle of ginger beer.
‘What a feast!’ I exclaimed, taking a long draught from the bottle before handing it back to him.
‘And whilst we’re waiting for the tatties to cook, I have a snack to keep us going.’ He pulled a knotted handkerchief out of his pack, showing me a cache of hazelnuts. He broke the glossy brown shells on the hearth with a stone and handed me a few of the creamy kernels.
We sat there contentedly, watching the flames make leaping shadows around the walls, happy to be cocooned in a sanctuary all of our own again. This would be the nature of our future together, I realised. We’d need to find a place where we could be together without judgement from others. But if it had to be this way then I, for one, felt I could be perfectly happy.
Once the potatoes were cooked, we scooped the soft insides from their burnt skins and mashed them with a knob of butter. Our meal was quite delicious. And we remembered to set a bit of it aside to ensure we were in the good books of the night’s returning souls. ‘I reckon we’ll be needing all the luck we can get,’ said Callum, his eyes shining in the firelight. ‘At least the ones who’ve passed over might be on our side, even if the living aren’t.’
After supper, we sat on the blanket watching the fire settle and shift as the sticks burned down. Callum picked up the last two remaining hazelnuts and rolled them together between his fingers.
‘Do you know the superstition about these?’ he asked. I shook my head. ‘It’s believed that if a pair of lovers puts two hazelnuts inthe fire on Samhain, it will foretell how they are to fare together. If the nuts pop and crack, it bodes ill, meaning the relationship will break. But if they burn calmly, side by side, it means the pair are well matched and are meant to stay as one.’
I reached out my hand. ‘Give them to me, then.’
‘Vi, no, it’s only a silly superstition.’ He closed his fingers around them, reluctant to release them to me.
‘What are you scared of, Callum Gillespie? Do you worry they will explode and we’ll have to part?’
He shook his head, then nodded it slowly. ‘I suppose I do. I couldn’t bear to lose you, you see.’
‘Well, I’m not afraid,’ I replied. I prised open his fingers and placed the two nuts side by side in the glowing embers at the edge of the fire. He drew me close to him and we sat and watched as they began to burn. I think we were both secretly holding our breath. And I knew if they popped then I would laugh the whole thing off as a silly bit of superstitious nonsense. But they burned steadily, giving off an unwavering flame until they had crumbled away to ashes.
‘There.’ I turned to face him. ‘It’s official now. We are supposed to be together. The laws of Samhain have decreed it.’
I kissed him and then my fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. As I began to undo them, he clasped my hand, stopping me from opening it further. ‘Vi ... are you sure?’
‘Sometimes in the river of life, Callum, you just have to throw your heart in and dive in after it.’
He released his grip and his eyes were alight with a smile that spoke of his love for me more eloquently than any words could ever have done.
I drew a blanket around us, and we lay together in the dying glow of the firelight, with only the stars and the spirits of the dead keeping watch over us until daybreak.
Daisy – March 2020
After four more days of trekking – following the path up and up over high passes in the hills marked with piles of carved stones and strings of tattered, fluttering prayer flags, and then down and down again into the terraced farmland of the valleys – we finally see Lukla clinging to the mountainside above us. As the path skirts below the town, a propellor plane comes in, flying so low over our heads that the roar of its engines forces me to clamp my hands over my ears. I turn to watch it make the landing on the infamous airstrip above us, engines screaming as it makes a stomach-churning last-second swerve to the right at the top of the short runway to avoid the sheer wall of rock in front of it.
I can’t help feeling glad I’ve managed to miss that particular experience. But from this point on, where our path joins the main Everest Base Camp trail, the climb into the higher mountains really begins. I tip my head back to look up at the snow-covered peaks emerging from the clouds on either side of the valley.
Tashi Sherpa seems to brighten visibly the further he gets from Kathmandu and the closer he gets to his home in the mountains. He answers my questions about the birds we see soaring above us – mostly vultures, but he spots an eagle too – with a ready smile. And he laughs and jokes with the few people we meet along the way. There’ve been almost no tourists in the pastfew days. The few we have crossed paths with have all been heading in the opposite direction, back towards Kathmandu and the possibility of a plane home. Sonam, on the other hand, becomes a little quieter and more preoccupied with each mile we cover, every step carrying us closer to Phortse.
‘Three more days, Mrs Daisy, no worry,’ Tashi tells me as I shrug off my backpack and sink thankfully into a chair on a terrace outside the teahouse in Phakding. It’s been another long day’s hike and the sun is setting, bathing the snow-capped peaks in rosy light. I gratefully accept the welcoming cup of tea the owner’s daughter brings me, feeling a pang of guilt as I notice our porters’ baskets propped against the wall by the door with my heavy bag still tied to the top of the load.
‘We get to Namche Bazaar tomorrow. Stay two nights there so you don’t get sick. Then Phortse day after that.’ Tashi goes to get the keys for our rooms, while Sonam pulls out his phone and flicks a little despondently through his messages before placing it face down on the table.
‘Beautiful view,’ I say, gesticulating with my cup towards the last of the light as it slides up to the very top of the mountains, chased by the dark shadows of evening. ‘Amazing sky.’
He shrugs, attempting to summon a little enthusiasm, and his phone buzzes with an inbound message.
‘News from your friends?’ I ask him, nodding to where it sits in its plastic case on the table between us.
He picks it up and glances at the screen. ‘Not good news,’ he says. ‘But then it never is these days. This virus is affecting everyone.’ He puts it back down and gazes morosely out across the valley again.
