Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4)

Shopaholic and Sister (Shopaholic #4) Page 108

I understand Jess!

Everything Jim said chimed a chord. Everything! How many times have I smuggled pairs of shoes in from America? How many times have I risked my own safety at the sales? I even got a leg injury, just like her! It was when I saw someone heading for the last reduced Orla Kiely purse in Selfridges, and I leapt off the escalator from about eight steps up.

God, if I’d just seen her rock cupboard earlier. If I’d known. Everything would have been different! Why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t she explain?

Abruptly I have a memory of Jess talking about rocks on our first-ever meeting… and again at the flat. And I feel ashamed. She did try. I just didn’t listen, did I? I didn’t believe her when she said they were interesting. I said rocks were… stupid. And boring. Just like her.

“Can we go any faster?” I say to Jim. We’re rattling along in his ancient Land Rover, past grassy slopes and drystone walls, heading higher and higher into the hills.

“Going as fast as we can,” he says. “We’ll be in time, easy.”

Sheep are scattering off the road as we thunder along, and small stones are hitting the windscreen. I glance out the window — and quickly look away. Not that I’m afraid of heights or anything, but we seem to be approximately three inches away from a steep drop.

“All right,” says Jim, pulling into a small parking area, with a crunch of gravel. “This is where they’re starting. And that’s where they’re climbing.” He points to the steep mountain looming above us. “The famous Scully Pike.” His phone rings, and he reaches for it. “Excuse me.”

“Don’t worry! Thanks!” I say, and wrench open the door. I get out and look around — and just for a moment I’m floored by the scenery.

Craggy rocks and peaks are all around, interspersed with patches of grass and crevasses, and all are overshadowed by the mountain — a stark, jagged outline against the gray sky. As I peer across the valley, I feel a sudden swooping, a bit like vertigo, I suppose. I honestly hadn’t realized quite how high up we are. There’s a little cluster of houses visible far below, which I guess is Scully, but apart from that, we could be in the middle of nowhere.

Well, come to think of it, we are in the middle of nowhere.

I hurry across the gravel to a small level patch where a table has been set up, with a banner reading SCULLY ENVIRONMENTAL GROUP ENDURANCE HIKE, REGISTRATION. Behind the table two yellow flags mark the foot of a path leading up the mountain. A man I don’t recognize is sitting at the table in an anorak and flat cap. But apart from that, the place is empty.

Where is everybody? God, no wonder they don’t have any money, if no one turns up for the sponsored walks.

“Hi,” I say to the man in the anorak. “Do you know where Jess Bertram is? She’s one of the walkers. I really need to speak to her.”

I’m totally wound up with anticipation. I cannot wait to tell her! I cannot wait to see her face!

“Too late, I’m afraid,” the man says, and gestures up the mountain. “She’s gone. They’ve all gone.”

“Already? But… the hike starts at eleven. It’s only five to!”

“It started at half past ten,” corrects the man. “We brought it forward because of the poor weather. You’ll have to wait. It’ll only be a few hours.”

“Oh.” I subside in disappointment and turn away. “All right. Thanks.” It’ll be OK. I can wait. I can be patient. It’s not that long, really, a few hours.

Yes, it is. A few hours is ages. I want to tell her now. I gaze up at the mountain in frustration, only to spot a couple in matching red anoraks, a few hundred yards up. They’ve got bibs with SCULLY ENVIRONMENTAL GROUP on them. They’re part of the hike. And look, a little beyond them, there’s a man in blue.

My mind is working quickly. They haven’t got that far. Which means Jess hasn’t got that far either. Which means… I could catch up with her. Yes!

This kind of news can’t wait a few hours. I mean, we’re sisters. We’re real, genuine sisters! I have to tell her immediately.

I hoist my Angel bag firmly on my shoulder, hurry to the start of the steep mountain path, and look up at it. I can climb this. Easy. There are rocks to hold on to and everything. I take a few tentative steps — and it’s not hard at all.

“Excuse me?” The man in the anorak stands up in agitation. “What are you doing?”

“I’m joining the hike. Don’t worry, I’ll sponsor myself.”

“You can’t join the hike! What about your shoes!” He points at my turquoise kitten heels in horror. “Do you have a cagoule?”