Chapter 4
The girl in the purple seersucker dress climbed all the way up, just to come down the same way she knew he would have. At its highest point, Lei stopped to admire the view. She rested herself on a boulder smoothed by wind and ages, and imagined three weeks ago he might have stopped there too, taking a drink after the long climb, rucksack at his feet while he surveyed the dale that stretched out below, into the distance.
The valley sat between two granite escarpments almost a quarter of a mile apart. The landscape changed from rock to shale, dropping away sharply, before becoming a gentle slope with patches of yellowish grass and scrub that grew wherever the roots could take hold, getting greener further down the hill where it flattened out around the stream.
A student in geology, she took in the extent of the flood plain and the displacement of pebbles and sandy deposits; it told her how, during heavy rain, it became a full-fledged river. She imagined the roar of the water, white and foaming, fed by the fingers of channels funnelling off from the slopes. The waters would swell, spilling out over bends that could contain it no more, settling back when the rains ceased, becoming once again a thin ribbon of water to gurgle its way over smooth stones, around rocks and boulders, before disappearing into a wooded glade.
The woods concealed the site of a tragedy, a system of workings and shafts, where thirty-nine miners lost their lives during one black day in the summer of 1857. A combination of freak weather and poor engineering had caused the mine to flood and then collapse. Soon after the deluge, downhill from the mine's entrance, a large swallow-hole had appeared in the ground and filled with water. Silt plugged its fissures and cracks, building up over time until the pond became permanent. Ferns, nettles and blackberry bushes, grew up in the gaps between the variety of trees that had taken root around it over the years, encircling and completing its concealment.
Seen from high above, the body of water appeared malignant, vigilant. The texture of the vegetation surrounding it, forming warty upper and lower lids, totally shaded and utterly black, like the open eye of a giant, perfectly camouflaged prehistoric creature.
A buzzard circled lazily against the silent backdrop of a cloudless blue sky. The mid-August sun beat down without mercy. In the meadow below, the girl was only visible above the waist.
Lei stopped to unhitch her rucksack. Cool fresh air passed over her back. She untied her jet-black hair and shook her head, allowing the glossy mane to cascade almost to her middle. After flexing her shoulder blades, she resumed walking, carrying the sack by the straps. The weight of it made her change hands frequently. Her fingers trailed through the dry tips of the long grass without a sound, but every stride whispered and rasped against the serrated leaves, scratching her legs, which stung as perspiration formed, finding its way into tiny cuts. At first, thinking some sort of insect was biting her, she looked to below her knees; the skin was red and blotchy. Already she'd hiked around seven miles, and sensing she was close to her destination, she took a map from her backpack to check.
The sudden disappearance of her boyfriend and the guilt she felt because of it had left her a little unstable and more likely to take risks. Earlier, she'd traversed a ledge that she should never have tackled without equipment, but she no longer cared.
She was breaking all the same rules that she'd spelled out to him. Always tell someone where you're going, when you'll be back, and never go alone.
Thomas was a caver and abandoned mine explorer. When he'd said he was going to scout the site of an old mine disaster, she refused to go with him. They'd argued about it. If you don't come with me, I'm going alone! She didn't believe for a minute he'd carry out his threat. Lei was sure he'd find someone else to accompany him, but the next thing she knew, he'd disappeared. It turned out that he did go on his own, and she felt incredibly guilty. If she'd only gone with him . . .
Now, she was going there anyway. The derelict Victorian mine complex down in the valley. The last place he'd still been alive.
In her heart, she knew he was dead, but she was convinced that if his spirit lingered, it would linger there. Rescuers found his tent pitched near the mine's entrance. It was empty, his equipment missing. Unable to find any trace of him outside, the rescue team concluded that he must have decided to sleep in the mine. Perhaps, because of the recent heatwave, he'd found the constant temperature inside preferable. A few hundred yards into the mine, a fresh roof fall, had rendered the whole section unstable, making it impossible to continue the search. In places like that, a single cough would be enough to trigger a further collapse. He wouldn't have stood a chance. The mine was now his grave.
It had taken her a full three weeks to summon the strength to travel there to pay her last respects, going on impulse when she realised the date, and what day it was. Ghost Day. Her Chinese origins meant she believed that just for one day the gates of Heaven and Hell would open, allowing the dead a reunion with the living. Thomas hadn't had a proper ritual send-off. The gods had granted her the opportunity to do it on this day. Suddenly it felt important.
With little time left to prepare, she phoned work and reported in sick. She never told anyone she was going.
The rucksack contained offerings to nourish and guide his spirit. As she was a part-time florist, she'd also taken along scissors and string, and she made up a wild flower bouquet as she sauntered along. She would build a rocky shrine and then place lit candles inside, with joss sticks, food and a poem she'd written for him. When today was over, she would return to Hong Kong. There she would learn to live without him, but she would remember him most especially on this day, every year into the future.
Three years together, gone . . . just like that. Her throat tightened at the thought.
Over to her right at the bottom of the hill, a scattering of trees marked the edge of a densely wooded area.
Eager to get into the woods and out of the sun's direct heat, she quickly crossed a field of swaying ferns.
At the margins of the wood beyond the canopy, dappled light dropped through the leaves, making a patchwork of sunshine and shade on the ground beneath. It looked so cool and appealing that she wandered in deeper.
So peaceful and quiet, only the occasional buzz of a fly and the gentle gurgling of a brook broke the silence. She approached the water's edge. In the curve of a long looping bend, there was a place where the banks flattened, making an expanse of pebbles like a small beach.
Her new Doc Martens were the most comfortable trekking boots she'd ever worn, but they made her feet hot, so she removed them, along with her socks. She couldn't wait to dip her toes in the cold water and crunched unsteadily towards it, holding the footwear by its laces. With stones digging painfully into her bare soles, she skipped and jerkily tiptoed to get the stream quicker.
Nearer the water, where larger, smooth grey boulders sat in the margins, she stepped in something slimy; the mud below oozed, blackening her foot as it sank into it, releasing a sulphurous odour. She found a rock with a flattish top, hitched her dress up, sat down and dangling her bare feet in the cool stream, rinsed the black sludge from between her toes. She decided to put the boots back on, before crossing the shale again.
The sound of gravel crunching behind made her jump. Heart thumping wild and afraid, chest tight, she spun around sharply. Nothing there!
She sighed with relief. Turned, and then froze.
A stranger stood before her, the rank odour of his sweat and stale cigarette smoke assailing her nostrils.
His eyes made his intentions clear.
