Careful...

Consciously, she put the divorce to the back of her mind and remembered what the counsellor had said. She booked a hill-walking holiday, a first. In preparation, she bought herself a pair of beautiful and luxuriously comfortable walking shoes. Calves-leather uppers, with that smell of new leather, and synthetic soles like tractor tyres. They were a bit over-budget, but as soon as she saw them, she was sold. They represented not merely a snazzy pair of shoes, but a symbol of her new identity, an investment in her future.

The group was limited to eight participants plus the group leader who was one of those sturdy silent competent types.

He greeted them, made fleeting eye contact with each and went back into his office. They stood about unsure of what was next. Eventually one chap said his name was Sam and he hoped everyone had a good day. That broke the ice and they gathered into informal groups and a hum arose as they introduced each other.

She noticed one chap who seemed intensely shy. He mumbled his name as Tom and the effort seemed to exhaust him. He looked awkward, shoulders up and bent slightly forward, and worried. She immediately thought that he was paralysingly shy, something she had experienced when younger. Feeling that they had something in common, and the fact that he was not at all unpleasant to look at, she determined to try to help him.

They filled their water bottles, checked their rucksacks, and set off. The first hour was easy going. They walked between pine tree, ever upwards, and they stopped for a break and to let everyone catch up. She was happy that she was amongst the first lot. She noticed that Tom brought up the rear. The group leader, nodding at her shoes, said

“Great shoes, good brand, can’t understand why some people come up here in trainers.” As he spoke, she saw Tom move in behind one of the others. She thought maybe for some people, all they have is a pair of trainers.

After four hours the sun was up and they stopped for a meal. The group leader produced a tarpaulin and they sat cross-legged and ate quickly. Everyone had packed some food and there was much rustling and unwrapping going on. The group went quiet as they ate. Tom seemed to have only an apple. She was sitting two places away from him. She stretched over her neighbour and said

“Would you like one of my sandwiches?” offering him one. He looked horrified, backing away as well as one could sitting cross-legged on the ground, and made a strangled noise indicating

“No.” She felt she might have offended him and said

“I am sorry if I embarrassed you.”

“Not embarrassed.” he said “angry.” and with a glare he made a business of eating his apple, core and all. Her neighbour made a face to say ‘at least you tried’.

They got going again and would have another stop at four in the afternoon. She noticed Tom holding back, ensuring he did not mingle.

When they stopped for the second time, she found herself seated next to Tom

She tried to get him to open up.

“Is this the first of these walks you have done?” He merely stared at her with a glint in his eye, which scared her for a moment, then he looked away. She decided to give up on him, and fell into conversation with the chap on her other side.

Overnight she was billeted with the only other girl in the group. When it was time to sleep, the other girl unselfconsciously peeled off her clothes, folded them and put them in her rucksack, put on pyjamas and slid into her sleeping bag, saying good-night, turning away. She had never been naked outside her home, but decided that this too was a part of her new self. In the pitch dark, she disrobed and quickly put on her pjs with relief. It was a start, she told herself. She didn’t think about the morning.

She made it to breakfast without incident and avoided looking at Tom. He sat apart, not talking, staring straight ahead. Her mind drifted back to the recent past. A marriage that had foundered long before he admitted he was having an affair. It almost came as a relief. She was angry, of course, but mainly at the wasted years. She was now just turned thirty and from her point of view, she was old. The counsellor had made her see that there was a possibly great future out there just waiting to be captured. She was not entirely convinced, but was game enough to give it a try, hence the shoes and the hill-walking. Initially she had been prone to episodes of fury, and periods of misery. Slowly however, she began to relish her new-found freedom. She had started quietly enough, going to restaurants on her own. Most of her social circle were married couples. Her ex and his new partner were welcomed in, but she as a singleton was seen as too dangerous. She regretted not keeping up contact with her friends from school and college. When she married, she now realised, he had slowly made her old friends feel they were not welcome.

Everyone said take up a hobby. So many said it she wanted to scream. Underneath her dismissals though she felt that they might be right. He had never liked dancing, so she took a few dancing classes. They were fun for her, but nothing else. She did not meet anybody. She joined an amateur dramatic society, but they had all been together for years and were all paired up. Hill walking had seemed the best bet.

On the second morning they began the assault on the summit. Yesterday’s terrain was easy by comparison. She felt stiff and her legs felt heavy. Yesterday’s sun had taken its toll and she had bruises all down one shin. The crown of the hill was craggy rock. The sun was behind cloud, and the wind had freshened. The chap in front called back

“Careful here, there’s not much path and the rock juts out.” There was the trace of a pathway in a series of switchback tracks between rocks which had to be climbed. The leader made sure they were all able to surmount the obstacles, paying particular attention to her, much to her annoyance. As the climb progressed, they began to be spaced out, and she found she was panting and her forehead glistening. It was an effort to stay in the leading group. At some points, with the gusting winds, she felt quite exposed. The ‘path’ was very narrow in places, with barely room to put one foot in front of the other, with a sheer drop on the outside down to the next level and on down the approaches they had climbed yesterday. She gave a little shiver and told herself to concentrate on where she put her feet and to ignore the wind. The chap in front of her said

“There’s nothing to hold on to.” indicating the rockface. The wind was whipping along. It seemed to her that it was being deflected by the rocks and blowing back out, pushing her off the cliff. She avoided looking down, and practiced parasympathetic breathing to calm herself. Looking down at her feet as she carefully placed them one after the other, and once again got a little dopamine hit of pleasure from these new shoes.

The next stop was the summit. There was a flat area there where they hoped to eat a meal. If conditions were bad, they would hug the rock and do the best they could, going back down all the way home that afternoon.

Climbing over the rocks was tougher than she expected, and used muscles long dormant. She knew she would be stiff the following morning, but she cheered herself up with the knowledge that she nearly had this climb in the bag. She found the smell of pine trees after the rain invigorating, and thought that maybe this was a hobby she could enjoy. All the others, bar Tom, were friendly and outgoing, even the team leader had become more communicative, all of which encouraged her to think that maybe this was the hobby for her.

They did manage to have a meal on the summit, windswept though it was. The team leader was beside her and became quite chatty, though talking over the noise of the wind was not easy. She did get his name, and ascertained that he was a smiley person under the gruff exterior. She made him laugh with some crack she made. Then she said

“I’m really on this climb to get over a divorce.” As soon as she spoke, she worried that she sounded desperate, and wished she had stayed quiet. He was silent for a moment. She guessed he was not sure what to say. Then he said

“Divorce is difficult. My wife - ex-wife – moved on after six years. Said she had fallen in love with the postman. I still wonder where I went wrong.” Now she was unsure of what to say. In the end she said

“Maybe when you got married?” That made him laugh.

“I suppose you are right” he said.

They finished up the meal, packed everything away and started the descent. In some ways this was more difficult. She could feel a blister forming on one heel. The wind was gusting. They made their way carefully off the summit itself, and down onto the back-and-forth track snaking down the side of the hill. They started out together but quickly spread out. Once again, Tom brought up the rear. On the first switchback she paused to take a photograph of the vista, beguiled by its craggy beauty, and wanted to preserve the memory. She was vaguely aware of the others passing carefully behind her while she focussed. She was aware of a groaning noise. She turned and saw Tom spring forward at her and push her out of his way, down over the edge. She fell down onto the ledge below. Then as if in slow motion, her body somersaulted over that ledge. She fell down the rocky face. Tumbling ever faster till she came to a rest at the bottom, unconscious.

She came to, sometime later. Her feet were very cold. Her first thought was would her shoes be ruined. She found she could not speak, and there was a blinding pain in her head. She was aware of a helicopter landing nearby, then two of the group carried her on a stretcher. She passed out again and awoke in hospital. It was several days later. Her jaw was wired, her arm in plaster, her spirits in the dumps, but the morphine kept the pain at bay. A nurse told her she had been in five days.

She had a visitor. The team leader came in to see how she was.

“What an awful accident. How are you feeling?” With her jaw wired she could not speak coherently. She mimed writing and he gave her a Bic biro and a page from his diary. She wrote: ‘Not an accident. He pushed me. I saw him as he pushed me’.

He said “Really!? Are you sure?" Tom said he came around the bend and saw you lose your footing and tip over the edge. Why would he do such a thing?” She wrote: ‘How could I not be sure? He pushed me out of his way. I only lost my footing because he pushed me.’

In the end, it was her word against his. No case could be made.

She crossed hill-walking off her list

© Dave Cuffe 2025

2025