Page 15 of The Sky Beneath Us
I shiver as the last of the light slips away and the chill of night immediately envelops us. In an attempt to cheer Sonam up a bit, I pull my own phone out of my pocket and scroll through until Ifind a photo of my girls. ‘These are my daughters,’ I say, holding it out for him to see. ‘They’re about the same age as you. Not easy times for young people everywhere.’
He takes it from me and examines the picture carefully. ‘Very beautiful,’ he says, smiling a little more widely. ‘What are their names?’
I point. ‘This one’s Sorcha and that one’s Mara.’
‘Mara?’ he asks. ‘Is that a Scottish name?’
I nod. ‘It means the sea, in Gaelic.’
‘In Buddhism, Mara is a demon,’ he says.
I laugh. ‘Well, she can be a bit of a demon sometimes, I suppose. But mostly she’s okay.’
‘And the other one – Sorcha? What does her name mean?’
‘Shining light,’ I reply. ‘I grew up on the shores of a wild Scottish sea loch, so you don’t have to look very far to see where I got my inspiration from. Does your name have a meaning?’
‘Sonam means merit, or good karma,’ he replies. ‘And my dad’s name means good luck. It can be quite a lot to live up to. We get given our names by the monks, depending on what is auspicious at the time of our birth. Although a lot of people just get called after the days of the week, which is why you’ll meet a lot of Mingmas, Lhakpas and Pembas in the Sherpa community.’
He hands me back my phone. ‘What do your daughters do?’
‘They’re both studying at university. Although I guess that’s probably about to grind to a halt if this lockdown they’re talking about actually happens.’
‘Same here,’ he says. ‘Same all over the world.’
‘What was the course you wanted to do in Kathmandu?’ I ask him.
‘Computing. I want a good job in the city. But instead maybe I’ll have to become a guide like my dad and take people up Mount Everest. My parents don’t want that for me – it’s a dangerous career.It’s a good way of earning money, but it comes at a cost too, because the mountain gives but she takes as well. In 2014, many Sherpas were killed in an avalanche on the Khumbu Icefall, just above Base Camp. Maybe you heard about it?’
‘I read the newspaper reports. It was a terrible tragedy.’
‘Terrible for the ones who died. Terrible, too, for the widows they left behind who depended on the money they should have made from guiding. And for the more than fifty orphans, and the elderly who they supported as well. This is a tough place to survive, Mrs Daisy, no matter how beautiful it is.’
He gets to his feet, stuffing his phone into the pocket of his jacket. ‘We better go inside. It’s getting cold now. You can check into your room and then have something to eat. Tomorrow is a hard day’s climb to Namche Bazaar, and we will cross the Hillary Bridge, so you’ll need to keep your strength up.’
Tucked up in my sleeping bag that night, I rub my feet together, trying to warm them. Sonam’s words ring in my head. I knew this trip would be a challenge, of course, but the dangers are very real and getting closer. I feel we’ve reached a tipping point on the trek now we’ve passed Lukla. I guess I could still turn back, return to Kathmandu and try to get a flight home. But we’re over halfway to Phortse now. I check my emails to see whether there’s anything more from the British Embassy, but there’s no reply to another message I sent yesterday asking for advice, apart from an automatic response saying the staff are working hard to handle queries, but due to the pandemic there will be unavoidable delays.
I toss and turn in my bed, once again physically exhausted but still somehow unable to sleep.
The screen on my phone lights up with a message and I reach to read it, hoping it may be from Mum. But it’s a newsflash from one of the Nepali news channels I’ve been following. ‘All domestic and international flights in and out of Nepal are now cancelled until further notice.’ So that’s that, then. Definitely no turning back now.
Giving up on trying to fall asleep, I turn on the light, swallow the big lump of loneliness that rises in my throat and reach for Violet’s journal to help keep it at bay.
Violet’s Journal
SUNDAY, 11THNOVEMBER, 1928
It was a relief to return to Edinburgh, immersing myself back into the routine of my studies and the work in the Herbarium. Neither of the trips north with Callum, to my home and to his, had exactly been a rip-roaring success. But the night of Samhain had fully cemented our bond and I know, more than ever before, that he’s the man I want to spend my life with.
He was silent on the train ride back to the city, his face turned to the window to watch the countryside pass by. I guessed what was on his mind. When we rattled across the Forth Bridge and the city came into view in the distance, I took his hand and said, ‘It doesn’t matter what our parents think. All that matters is that we love each other.’
He gave my fingers a squeeze, and I felt the reassuring strength in his own, but there was a sadness in his eyes when he turned towards me. ‘I love you more than anything on this earth, Vi. But I can’t ask you to sacrifice your position in society for me. I want to be able to support you, to give you the life you deserve. Instead, being married to me would deprive you of your friends and family and many of the choices that are your birthright.’
‘So you’re thinking of asking me to marry you, are you?’
He laughed and reached up with his other hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, the tenderness of his gesture making my heart turn a sudden somersault. ‘That is what you take from what I’ve just said? I’m telling you how impossible it is.’
‘No,’ I replied firmly. ‘It is most certainly not impossible. Don’t tell me that. All I know is how much better my life would be with you. And if you feel the same way about me then nothing should stand in our way. We’ll find work, make a home together. Once I’ve finished my course, perhaps we can look for a position together as gardeners on an estate in the south, far away from the judgement and disapproval of your parents and mine. Or we can stay in Edinburgh. You can carry on your work in the Botanics and I’ll make a living with my paintings. There is such a demand for illustrating the new specimens coming to these shores from the expeditions. We will find a way.’
