‘Good.’
‘It does feel good.’ Which is true. Doing the exercises Ani taught me I’ve never felt more at peace.
‘So does Olive love Olive yet?’
I laugh once. ‘There’s not much to love.’
She points a bony finger at me. ‘This is your problem! You don’t like being invisible. So you don’t like yourself. So stupid! No logic!’ She growls angrily at me. ‘I do not like this wrinkled skin, do I?’ She pinches the skin on her forearm. ‘But do I hate myself? No. I am not wrinkled skin, I am more than that.’
I feel my own skin prickle as I recognise the truth of her words. ‘So what do I do?’
‘Decide who you are—apart from being invisible. Olive is so tied up in being invisible, there is nothing else, nothing to move toward. It is your whole identity.’
She’s right. Ever since I was born, I’ve been the invisible girl. Nothing else.
‘I need to find out who I am apart from being an invisible girl.’
‘Yes!’ Ani says, clapping her hands.
I beam like a stupid puppy who just won praise for jumping through a very large and low hoop. I should have known this. I should have figured it out. I’m more than just invisible. I’m cracking brilliant.
I climb back up to the village feeling jubilant and when I see Jordan sitting outside with Saraswati’s small children playing at her feet it makes me happier still. I whistle so Jordan knows I’m coming and she holds up her hand, smiling. She looks better this afternoon, there’s a pink flush to her cheeks.
‘Olive!’ she calls, a bit too recklessly. ‘Olive!’
I wait until I’m close to respond. ‘Careful, old girl, you don’t want the Sherpas thinking you’ve lost your marbles. Who knows what they’ll put in your tea.’
‘But Simon’s here!’
And even though I knew he was coming, I feel sick in the pit of my stomach.
‘Yeah, well, we were expecting him, right?’
She holds out her hand to try and find mine. ‘Thank you for calling him.’
‘My pleasure,’ I say. And looking at how happy she is, I know it should be my pleasure, and it is, but somehow I know it signals an end.
As if to solidify this feeling, Simon walks out wearing a chunky cable-knit sweater, bringing Jordan and himself drinks with a jaunty step.
‘God, he’s gorgeous,’ Jordan says. ‘Can you believe that hair?’
He’s grinning at her, his stupid woolly white hair being tussled about in the breeze.
‘Enjoy it while it lasts, he’ll be bald in five years, eight tops.’
‘He will not!’
‘Look at that hairline! There’s no way he won’t.’ I can’t help myself. ‘He’ll be the triple threat: bald, pompous and huge kneecaps.’
Jordan just laughs. She’s looking at him with this huge goofy grin and I can actually feel it—her love for him. It shakes me.
‘Darling,’ Simon says, handing her a glass and kissing her hair. ‘Saraswati said you can have a proper sit-down meal with me tonight. Do you fancy that?’
‘I’d love to,’ Jordan replies.
Later that night, I see them together in the guesthouse restaurant; tealight candles illuminate their enraptured faces as they stare into each other’s eyes, their hands locked either side of their yak stew. Ani is right about love. Their love changes the world around them, but it’s left me icy cold.
I walk through the dark to the nunnery where Ani sits reading by an oil lamp. It’s chilly in the room but it doesn’t seem to bother her.
‘What are you reading?’
‘Murder mystery,’ she says without looking up. It makes me chuckle. ‘You’re back soon,’ she notes.
‘Jordan’s boyfriend has turned up.’ There is more emotion in my voice than I want there to be.
Ani places a bookmark in between the pages and closes the book. ‘That’s good.’
‘It’s not good.’ I slump against the wall and exhale loudly.
‘Why not?’
‘I want to keep travelling with Jordan, that’s why. Simon is making that impossible.’
‘You want to have the same journey as her?’
‘Well …’
‘Identical life too maybe?’
Man, she is annoying sometimes. ‘No. I just want someone to travel with. And she’s my best friend. I’m not asking her to marry me or something.’
Ani laughs.
‘I know what you’re going to tell me,’ I say, sitting down opposite her. ‘That I’m always talking about wanting freedom—and there’s nothing more free than travelling alone.’
‘Could be true.’
‘And I know I should do it,’ I say. ‘I want to do it.’
‘Yes?’
I press my fingers to my mouth. ‘But I don’t think I can …’
‘Why not? The Olive I know is capable of anything.’
It’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me. It gives me the courage to admit, in a very small voice, ‘But I’m scared.’
‘Good,’ Ani says simply. ‘Being afraid will keep you safe. Stop you from doing foolish things.’
‘And I’d be lonely.’
‘We are all alone, my child.’ She smiles then. ‘But you have the best person in the world to travel with!’
‘Who?’
‘You.’
I feel a huge rush of love for this old woman. Meeting her has been the best part of this whole journey. My heart speeds up. I know what I want to do. ‘I’m going to do it.’
Ani nods as if she’d known this all along. ‘You’re choosing love.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ I scoff.
‘You’re choosing bravery over cowardice, faith in yourself over fear, you’re releasing jealousy to allow your friend to explore another relationship. All of this is love.’
Wow. She’s right. I’m doing a good thing. An amazing thing. It’s embarrassing how proud I feel of myself. Ani shuffles away and returns with a mala of wooden beads. She pushes it into my hands. ‘When you are lonely. Think of Ani. My spirit will find you.’
We hug and part ways, exchanging a fraction of our souls as we do.
I’ll never forget Ani. Not ever. The luck of it is, I don’t have to. She’s part of me now.
CHAPTER
12
We walk the track down to Namche Bazaar together. Simon and Jordan are going to stay on in Nepal for a few weeks then travel to India. Simon wants to find a guru. He’s such a Western-idiot cliché.
I’m not staying. I’m going to walk to Lukla and catch a bus to Kathmandu. From there it’s a flight to JFK, New York. Give me bright lights and Burger King. Give me fries with that and a damn hot shower. Not that I’ve told Jordan yet.
There are a few things I’ve been putting off telling her. But time has run out. We’re almost at Namche Bazaar, and I need to admit to the text message exchange before Simon brings it up. It’s a miracle he hasn’t already but maybe he hasn’t wanted to rock the boat while she’s been sick. ‘Nice’ people do stuff like that apparently.
Simon is walking ahead with the Sherpa who’s carrying our bags, trying to ingratiate himself with the local peasants, so it’s now or never.
‘Jordan?’
‘Mmm.’
‘If I did something really, really bad, would you forgive me?’
‘Depends what it was.’
I’m shocked. ‘Seriously?’
‘What answer do you want, Ol?’
‘No, I do want the truth. It’s just …’
‘Olive …’ Her voice has dropped. She’s suspicious.
‘It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever done … But probably the worst thing I’ve done to you…’
‘You did something to me?’
‘I fixed it, though. You’ve got to remember I fixed it.’
I’m not so sure this is a good idea anymore. Maybe I should have told her on the phone from the other side of the world.
‘Tell me.�
�
‘And I’m totally sorry. I know I was absolutely wrong …’
‘Just tell me!’
It’s so loud Simon turns around. ‘Are you all right back there, darling?’
‘Yep. All good,’ she calls to him, waving like she’s all carefree, but the second he turns back around she hisses at me, ‘Tell me now!’
‘Okay.’ I take a breath. ‘Simon called when we were in Lhasa.’
‘What?’
‘In the hotel. When you were in the shower. I answered your phone, well it was a text message at first …’
‘He called more than once?’
‘Well, it was a mix of texts and calls actually. I ended up adding his number to your blocked caller thingy.’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘Because he kept calling!’
‘You!’ Her jaw is clenched so tight you couldn’t wedge a Craven in there. ‘What did you say to him?’
‘Not a lot.’ God she looks scary. ‘I mean, I told him not to call you again and I might have said you hated him and you’d met someone else. I think I called him a pompous idiot, ass … something like that.’
Air hisses in and out between Jordan’s teeth. She reminds me of the wild demoness who once controlled Tibet—but I don’t think I’ll tell her that right now.
‘Jordan?’
Silence.
‘Pins?’
‘Shut up,’ she growls. ‘I’m trying not to push you off this mountain.’
‘But look!’ I say, pointing ahead to Simon who is walking along cheerfully, pointing at something in the grass. ‘It’s all worked out. Here you are living happily ever after.’
‘No thanks to you.’
‘Yes, thanks to me! I called him and asked him to come.’
Jordan grunts.
‘I also neglected you so you got run-down and sick, which guilted him into coming,’ I point out.
She grumbles some more.
‘Pins?’
‘What!’
‘Do you forgive me?’
‘I don’t know, okay!’ she snaps. ‘It makes it pretty impossible to trust you again.’
‘Okay. But do you still love me?’
She snorts.
‘I’ll make you the sole beneficiary to everything I have,’ I tell her. ‘You can even have Felix.’
‘I’m sure Felix would love to hear you giving him away like an old bike.’
I shrug. ‘I wouldn’t get much for him on eBay anyway.’
Jordan is still tight-lipped.
‘It’s really a compliment, you know. You’re my best friend. Of course I’m going to fight for you.’
Jordan sighs deep and heavy then. ‘Jeez, you make it hard to hate you.’
I leap onto her, hugging her. We’re going to be okay.
‘Argh!’ She struggles under my weight. ‘Get off me!’
‘I have another surprise for you. A reward, really, for your patience with me …’
‘God no. What is it?’
‘I’m not stopping here with you. I’m walking to Lukla for the bus to Kathmandu. Then I’m flying to New York.’
‘You can’t—’
‘It’s not your decision. And I’m not letting you choose between Simon and me—because you’re not invited to come with me.’
‘I’m not?’
‘No.’
Jordan takes some time to process this.
‘Unless you’re having second thoughts about him,’ I say. ‘I could whisk you away from Simon, on one of those Riwoche horses. You know the tiny ones? We could gallop through the fields like Genghis Khan, leaping over mountain crevices and hiding in huts with wool mats and warm mugs of yak milk …’
‘What an excellent idea!’ Jordan says.
I’m shocked. ‘Really?’
‘No. Not really.’ Jordan rolls her eyes. ‘It sounds horrendous.’
We both laugh. ‘I guess I’ll settle for New York then.’
Jordan turns serious. ‘You’re sure about this, Olive?’
‘Actually,’ I say, taking her hand and squeezing it, ‘I think I need it.’
At the guesthouse where Simon and Jordan are staying, Jordan pays the Sherpa porter who carried our gear from Tengboche to carry my bag on to the Lukla bus station for me.
‘What are you doing?’ Simon asks her.
‘Olive’s leaving.’
Simon looks flabbergasted. ‘She is?’
‘She’s going to New York.’
‘Well. This is unexpected.’
The three of us watch the Sherpa trudge away with my bag.
‘Well, that’s a waste of good money and a bag. But if it’s what you need to say cheerio to Olive, it’s for the best,’ says Simon. ‘We’ll be much better off without her.’
Huh. Nice. I’m going to miss you too, buddy.
‘Simon, she’s still here,’ Jordan says.
Simon looks suitably abashed. ‘Forgive me, I am sorry.’
Jordan smiles at him. ‘Why don’t you go and get a room while I say goodbye?’
‘One room?’
Jordan nods. ‘One room.’
‘Blimey!’ He backs away, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘I’ll be waiting …’
Urgh.
Jordan turns back to me. ‘Are you still here?’
‘Unfortunately.’
‘Sorry about that.’
‘He’s pretty ecstatic that I’m leaving.’
‘It’s not you.’
‘Sure it’s not.’ My sarcasm is thicker than the oxygen at this altitude.
‘Well, not entirely. I’ve been holding off, you know …’
‘No! Yuk. I don’t want to know.’
‘Fair enough.’ She starts swinging her hands side to side like she used to when we were small. ‘So, um, the Sherpa will take your bag to the bus …’
I grab her swinging hands. ‘I know. It was my plan, remember?’
She grips my fingers tighter. ‘You know this isn’t me choosing him over you. Right? I would never do that.’
‘You shouldn’t have to choose, Pins. That’s the point. You deserve this time.’ She’s looking as if she might lose it so I add, ‘Besides, how else are you going to figure out what a prat he is?’
She laughs, kind of cries. Her face is going all red and blotchy. I’m glad she can’t see my own. She drops my hands and grabs my shoulders, shaking me. ‘I will never forgive myself if something happens to you. You have to take care of yourself. Promise me you will?’
‘I will.’
‘Promise,’ she demands.
‘Okay, I promise.’ I use a tone like she’s being demanding and OTT—but really it’s nice that she cares so much.
She pulls me into a hug. She smells of sweat from our hike. She must have run out of deodorant like I have. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mutters. ‘I—’
I push her away before we both start blubbering. ‘I’d take a shower if you’re planning on getting amorous with Simple Simon or you’ll be hiking out on your own too.’
‘Shut up.’ She moves to slap me but I duck out of the way.
‘Too slow,’ I say, backing away. ‘Always too slow.’
‘You’re going?’ Her expression turns bereft.
‘You’ll never know for sure,’ I say, laughing.
And thank god, she laughs too. I turn and walk down the track. It hurts so much to leave. My heart is calling out to hers. I can feel it, the love stretching, reaching out for her. It must be the power of the Himalayas or all that meditating I’ve been doing with Ani, but it’s the most physical heart-pulling sensation I’ve ever experienced.
‘Olive!’ Jordan shouts.
‘What?’ I say, turning around.
‘I don’t forgive you.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t forgive you—but I love you.’
‘I know that, you idiot!’
She gives me the finger and I chuckle. It was nice to hear her say it. It makes me feel a fraction braver.
When we were eight, Mr and Mrs Withadrew took Jordan and me to the Easter Show. Jordan wanted to see the farm animals and I wanted to go on the rides. Jordan’s mum said we should compromise. Jordan’s dad said to leave ‘bloody Olive’ in the car, because what was the point of having an imaginary friend if they didn’t do what you wanted? (I later spilled my juice box on his trouser leg for that.)
Anyway, Jordan and I heeded the wise words of Mrs Withadrew and we saw most of the animals and did some of the rides. It was a good day but there was one big dipper I never got to go on, and I still regret that. If we’d done our own thing I wouldn’t have missed that big dipper. But then I would have missed Jordan passing me a tiny baby chick to cradle in my palms. It was so soft and warm, I’ll never forget it.
Who knows what’s best? Sharing and compromise, or the freedom of going it alone?
I look out at the long path winding ahead of me. The Sherpa is already far ahead. I pick up my pace to try and catch him. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
CHAPTER
13
I’m still feeling the love when I reach Kathmandu and recharge my phone. It goes mad for a little while, filling with unseen messages: Dad, Rose, Felix, Dillon.
Dillon! Love attracts love?
I tap on his message first.
Dillon: Hey lemon ice.
Dillon: You around?
Dillon: Maybe 3 minutes is enough for you
Hell. He’s talking about our last conversation when I accused him of only knowing me three minutes. He must think I’m ignoring him.
Olive: Hey Coconut. I’ll allow you 5. Would have replied before but I’ve been out of range. In Kathmandu now so all good. I mean, I left Simon and Jordan together, so it’s not ideal, but I’m coping.
He doesn’t reply so I shoot off a few ‘I’m safe’ messages with photos of the Tengboche monastery and Everest to Rose, Dad and Felix. And then it appears.
Dillon: You’re going solo? Admirable.
It’s stupid how proud his comment makes me. But it is admirable.
Olive: Hopefully I don’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere.
Dillon: Jesus woman you know how to scare a fella. I’ll be needing to keep tabs on you.
Olive: Surveillance cameras?
The Implausible Story of Olive Far Far Away Page 8