Best of Friends. Cathy Kelly

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       CHAPTER EIGHT

      Greg and Erin Kennedy were not the sort of people to let life pass them by – not when they could go out and grab it firmly with both hands.

      When Greg’s mum developed really bad flu and the planned Kennedy family reunion scheduled for Dunmore had to be put off for a few weeks, Greg and Erin decided to take advantage of the day’s holiday Greg had taken.

      They quickly booked a small hotel in Glengarriff, packed their walking gear in the suitcase along with some glad rags, and set off for a weekend of sightseeing and climbing mountains.

      It was two years since they’d last done any climbing. Greg pointed out that a week’s hiking along the Appalachian Trail didn’t count. ‘That wasn’t a trek, that was an amble through the woods!’ he said. The long weekend in the Rockies was their last serious trek, in his opinion.

      Erin remembered the ache in her muscles after the trip to the Rockies and she hadn’t expected the same level of sheer exhaustion in the beautiful Kerry mountains. But, somehow, she felt worn out before they’d even begun.

      On Saturday morning, by the time Greg decided it was OK to stop for a break, Erin felt tired enough to lie down and sleep.

      ‘Come on, slowcoach. You’re nearly there. Just another few yards. I’ve got the chocolate opened…’

      ‘If you eat it all, I’ll kill you,’ panted Erin as she hauled herself up the steep excuse for a path, side-stepping sheep droppings shaped bizarrely like tiny bunches of grapes, to arrive at the rocks where Greg was laying out their picnic.

      ‘I am so wrecked. How high did you say this mountain was?’

      She slumped down onto a small rock, stretching out her legs and leaning against a bigger rock, with her rucksack as a cushion for her back. This was ridiculous; she couldn’t believe how exhausted she felt. Where was the athletic woman who used to daydream about the pair of them tackling something serious, like Everest?

      Greg handed her a square of chocolate and then poured out a plastic cup of coffee from the Thermos.

      ‘High enough to work off all this food on the way down,’ he said, unwrapping the hefty cheese and ham sandwiches the landlady of the Mountain Arms Hotel had given them that morning before they’d set off. ‘Just look at the view. Isn’t it fantastic?’

      Erin sighed with pleasure. They weren’t at the top yet, but already acres of steep slope stretched out beneath them, covered with waves of pinky purple azaleas that flowered amid the gorse and bracken. To the right were the brooding shapes of more of the Kerry mountains, splayed haphazardly northwards towards Kenmare. The landscape below looked beautiful, untamed and desolate. Only the telephone poles and the odd house tucked away in the valley among the trees spoke of civilisation.

      Far below lay the road where they’d parked the car – a rackety grey road just wide enough for two vehicles to pass, but from this great height, it looked nothing more than a winding dark line on a child’s picture.

      Despite the early April sunshine, which made everyone in Glengarriff insist it was ‘a fabulous day for the time of year’, it was cold on the mountain and Erin was glad of the steaming hot coffee. She was wearing a heavily padded skiing jacket, lined hiking trousers, thick socks with her walking boots, and a hat that was squashing her ponytailed hair, but she could still feel the chilly wind.

      When they’d eaten everything in his rucksack, Greg sat beside Erin on her rock and put his arm round her. He hadn’t bothered to shave that morning and when he rubbed his cheek against hers, she felt the spiky beard rough against her face.

      The combination of designer stubble, a soft grey hat pulled down over his hair and the pale sun glinting against his sunglasses gave him the look of some glamorous French skier who’d just come down a black run.

      ‘Wasn’t this a great idea to come away for the weekend?’ he said.

      Erin kissed him on the cheek. ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘We really needed the break. I’m sorry about your poor mum, but it’s nice to get away all the same, isn’t it? And we can have the big family reunion soon.’

      ‘Erin,’ began Greg, ‘we’ve been here nearly a month…’ He paused.

      Erin stilled. She knew what was coming. Greg didn’t disappoint.

      ‘Don’t you think it’s time to visit your family or at least make contact?’

      She said nothing but dug out another chocolate bar from the side pocket of her rucksack. Did he really think she could just phone up after nine years and think everyone would be thrilled to hear her voice?

      ‘OK, OK, forget I said anything,’ Greg apologised. ‘I don’t want to ruin the day.’

      ‘No, don’t,’ begged Erin. ‘We’re here for the weekend to forget about everything: the pressures of your job, the non-pressures of my non-existent job and the horrible rented house. And I know you’re on the rental agency’s case and they’re going to find us a mansion soon, but it is horrible.’

      ‘Right, we’re here to forget,’ he agreed, and took a big slab of chocolate. ‘I think we’ve been sitting here too long. I’m getting cold and stiff.’

      ‘Me too,’ admitted Erin. ‘Can we phone mountain rescue and get them to helicopter us back?’

      Greg pretended to think about this. ‘I think they prefer to be called out in genuine emergencies and not to airlift lazy, fat tourists down to their cars so they can head back to their hotels for more Irish coffees.’

      ‘Who are you calling fat?’ Erin ripped the last piece of chocolate from Greg’s hand and shoved it in her mouth with a wicked smirk.

      ‘Oh, not you! But since you’ve eaten everything, we’d better go.’ Greg got to his feet and put out a hand to haul Erin up. ‘I’m afraid we’ve a bit further up to go before we’re on the way down.’

      They walked in silence, Erin reserving her energy for the hike rather than wasting her breath talking. As she climbed steadily, she couldn’t help her mind slipping off the path in front of her and back to her estranged family in Dublin.

      Greg didn’t understand her reluctance to go home. He was a black-and-white sort of person. Families loved each other and no stupid argument, no matter how bitter, should stop people from being there for each other.

      But a long time had passed since she’d left. Erin knew she’d changed beyond all recognition. She was a different person from the angry eighteen-year-old who’d packed her suitcase and stormed out of her home one evening. What really scared her was what if everything else had changed too in the years she’d been away? What if her grandparents had died? Erin wouldn’t let herself think about that.

      Kerry was eleven years older, so she’d be thirty-eight now, maybe married with kids, or maybe not. Kerry’s love life had never run smoothly. She looked a lot like Erin, without the red hair but with the same long nose. Dad used to joke that Kerry, who had mousy hair dyed blonde, had got the red hair temperament. He’d been right. However the rest of the family reacted, Kerry would find it hard to forgive Erin.

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