Page 77 of A Secret Escape

“Very much. He’s a great guy. And the girls adore him.”

“So Uncle Joel is no longer so much in demand.”

“I see quite a bit of them, but it’s usually planned rather than an emergency.” He turned into a small parking area with just one other car. “We can walk from here. It’s steep, but it should be quiet, and the views from the top are incredible. I packed water and a snack into my backpack. And I have a spare layer if you need it, but I doubt you will because it’s hot.”

It was more than hot. It was sweltering, but she didn’t care. She was just so happy and grateful to be outdoors.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you.”

She stepped out of the car and felt the sun warm her face. The fells rose up around her, cocooning them from the outside world. She heard the soft rush of water from the nearby stream and the occasional bleating of sheep. Fuchsia-pink foxgloves speared through dense ferns, adding a splash of bright color to the landscape.

“It’s peaceful.”

“It’s a magical spot.” He changed into hiking boots, hauled a large backpack onto his back and snapped a lead onto Buster’s collar. “He’s good, but I don’t take any chances around sheep.”

She laced up the hiking boots Milly had given her and rammed a hat onto her head, tugging down the brim.

He watched her. “Is that for disguise? Because we’re pretty much the only people here.”

“Reflex action.”

He nodded. “Well, Buster and I have your back, so hopefully you can relax. I’m guessing that’s something you don’t do very often.”

“Hardly ever.” But she felt relaxed now. The landscape was wild and beautiful, and it made her feel so small and insignificant that her problems shrank to nothing, and she wished she could just stay here, in this moment, and never go back to her life.

She’d never been able to get into mindfulness (although she did yoga for her backache), but as she followed him up the narrow trail, picking her way between rocks and scrambling up the steeper parts,the repetitive action of putting one foot in front of the other was oddly calming.

They climbed steadily toward the ridge in the distance, occasionally stopping to drink water. And during those pauses Joel did most of the talking. He didn’t ask about her life. He didn’t question her about anything, but he spoke freely about himself.

She learned that he’d been born and raised in a small town about half an hour from Forest Nest and that his sister still lived in the same town. His mother had died when he was five, and he’d been very close to his dad.

“My dad first brought me up here when I was seven. He gave me a book with all the Lakeland fells listed, and we ticked them off as we did them. I climbed a hundred and eighty with him. After he died my sister and I did his favorite climb together in his memory.”

She learned that he’d always liked building things and that one of the reasons he’d taken the job in London was that, after his father died, he couldn’t bear to be in the Lakes because it was so full of memories that every walk was painful.

So he’d moved away, and while his sister was getting married and raising a family, Joel had been building a life and a career in London, flying round the world working on big prestigious projects.

She learned that he’d had two long-term relationships, neither of which had worked out, mostly because he was always working and couldn’t find a way to be more available to a partner while still doing his job.

And then there was the day when he’d been staying in an anonymous hotel room in Toronto and he’d had a call from his sister to say that his brother-in-law had died suddenly. He’d flown home right away.

“And that was it.” They paused on a ridge, and he delved into the backpack and pulled out a couple of chocolate bars. “I resigned from my job, moved in with my sister for six months and kept things going until she was able to function again.”

“You’re a good brother.”

“She would have done the same for me.” He held out a chocolate bar, and she almost took it but then shook her head.

“I don’t eat chocolate.”

“What, never?” He tore the wrapper off his and ate a piece.

“Not for years.”

“Allergies? You don’t like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate.”

He studied her face for a moment and then glanced over her shoulder to the path they’d taken. “Look at how far we’ve walked. You don’t think you could safely eat a square of chocolate?”

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