CHAPTER 29
We returned to Boot with me buzzing away and the other three somehow completely relaxed, after another four climbs.

It was all I had read of, in that book so long ago, and everything that Simon and Roger had spoken of. Space beneath my feet, as I would later find a woman climber had called her story, and that feeling of being somewhere you had earned a right to be. Lesser mortals, that was the phrase, earthbound.

Nana was grinning as we got out of the car.

“Tha enjoyed that, then?”

I noticed a hint of a tear there, and I realised that it wasn’t just me that had waited the best part of four years from dream to delight. Nana had been in her own prison all that time, with the obstruction, corruptly or otherwise, of the council, and there I was free and happy, and picking at her rocky scabs. I expected a comment on that one, and I wasn’t disappointed.

“If tha’re going up in the world, Steve, I think tha’ll be fine for a crossing of the Sca Fells. We could go by Mickledore…” and she winked at Simon, far too obviously, “And Broad Stand”

There was something hidden in her words, and I decided the first thing I would do would be some research. First, though, dinner, and Nana was the one pushing the boat out, with a meal that left us groaning, a full roast dinner that Arthur allowed her to serve on his picnic tables in the evening sun. After all, the boys got through enough beer to keep him happy, and I had already realised what a soft spot he had for my grandmother, and for me.

This was a community. The way Karen had described the bonding and banding together when she had found me, the completely unconscious acts of almost family generosity, this was Nana’s home ground in so many ways. Other people, like the Toffs, rode in on that wave of feeling, and the more I watched it the more I realised how deeply sick Castle Keep was. This was humanity, there was a place stripped of all fellow-feeling. Once more, despite what I knew and remembered, I had a sudden surge of sympathy for that lost boy in London.

There were revelations at tea, though. Arthur had happily chilled some champagne, as the mark up on that was a major boost to his takings, and as we six men (well, I would be eighteen in 76, so as far as I was concerned I was one) relaxed with a pint each before the champagne was unleashed, or whatever the term is, the four girls brought out platters of roast Herdwick lamb and vegetables, bowls of roast potatoes, mint sauce and gravy, Brian and Sid just sat and smirked. The slight buzz I had from the alcohol must have slowed my thoughts, because it was a minute or two before I clicked. Karen noticed my sudden understanding, and struck a “Ta dah!” pose as Tessa went to sit, in a summer dress and sandals, soft make up and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head that held her hair back from her ears. Somehow she had gained a bosom, and she looked like nothing so much as a rather raw-boned and broad-shouldered woman in her thirties. As I looked closer, I could still see a soft hint of beard shadow, but otherwise she was all woman, and then I made the connection.

She was relaxed, and that was the main change, not the clothes, the lipstick or the shoes. I could still see the scars across her wrist, but now they had no significance, no story of hurt and confusion, of resentment and despair. Just another blemish.

Karen was still grinning. “What do you think then, Stevie lad?”

I was bowled over. “She looks great, Karen! Where…the clothes, and shoes and that?”

Tessa was grinning too. “My shoes, but Sally had this dress, and the girls sort of did a job on my face, and my hands and….look, they did my toes!”

Karen was pretending to buff her nails in an act of obvious false modesty. “I do know what I am doing, then”

There was a bang, then another, and Simon was on his feet. Fizzy wine was poured, and he raised a hand for silence.

“My darlings, we do know that a delightful roast of perfect Lakeland lamb is not best accompanied by such a wine, but we have some suitable bottles breathing behind the bar with the ever amenable Arthur. This is by way of a toast to mark ends, and beginnings. The end of a living nightmare for so many of us here and for others known and unknown. The end of hurt and evil. And beginnings, the beginning of healing, the beginning of a new life. Please, a toast, to true friendship, the cure for all ills!”

I could drink to that.

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The next morning I was woken out of a slight hangover by Nana shaking me.

“Right lad, it’s Fell and Pike today! OUT AND ON WITH THY BOOTS!”

It really did feel that loud. I staggered down to breakfast where the Toffs, Tom and Sid were already dressed in breeks and flannel shirts, accompanied, to my surprise, by everyone else, in a variety of outdoorsy rigs. Nana was grinning.

“I was a shepherd, lad, and I can still round them up! This is going to be a proper outing, and we’ll see how people feel at Mickledore. There’s nobody fat here, so we should be aal reet. Now, a good breakfast, load thy sack with plenty to drink, and we’re off.”

A little while later our cars were rolling up the banks of Wastwater past the screes that slide precipitously into the dark waters, Yewbarrow standing sentinel at the Head. We parked by the campsite, and then set off easily up Lingmell Gill and then more steeply onto Brown Tongue and Hollowstones. As a seasoned crag rat I was, in my teenage arrogance, of which I had some, watching for signs of weakness in my companions. Nana walked steadily and economically, though I felt she would rather have run up, as did the Toffs. And all the others, as it turned out. That was when I started paying attention to how they were dressed, and realised that none of them had new boots. All showed the signs of regular use, and to be honest, I should have known better. Apart from the Toffs, we all lived around the hills, so I should have expected it.

Tom was, of course, very fit, as was Brian, and Karen’s dedicated gym work left her relaxed and happy. Sal and Sid were breathing hard, but their footwork was still comfortable and precise, and Tessa….

In unisex mountain clothes, she made her statement with a padded bosom and a lavender shirt, with a marching Alice band for her hair, and a smile to break hearts. I found out later that she had packed a razor to make sure that she didn’t give herself away too obviously as the day went on, and realised she had one advantage over me.

The chest strap on my rucksack was most uncomfortable across my tits, for mine were real. I resolved to ask Karen to help me find a woman’s pack, if such a thing existed. If it wasn’t for the fact that Em, who I missed dreadfully, would object, I would consider losing them, but of course that would mean doctors…

A thought struck me, in the way the mind wanders as you plod up hills. I hadn’t had a single nightmare since arriving in Boot, despite the lack of Em’s warmth by me at night. This truly was my home.

The route passed under the huge cliffs of Scafell Crag, and Roger pointed out some of the routes that worked their way up the vertical rock, including something he just called CB. “You’ll do that one day, Steve, trust me”

We rounded the end of the crags to the North and then headed south-east towards the summit of England, Sal and Sid panting a little, and then we had a small celebration as we looked out across a sea of hills, to Broad Crag and Ill Crag, Bow Fell and Great Gable, and the boys were right, and then I caught Nana’s grin and remembered her from years ago, on wild wet days on the high fells, shouting at the sky that this was living.

There was a little conference of war at the top of the Pike, and Simon asked for some decisions.

“We have a choice of two routes for you, boys and girls. Both start with a descent into that dip over there, which is Mickledore. The simple route contours round to the south by a small tarn, then up the back to the top of Sca Fell. The harder route goes straight up that jumble of rocks over there.

“Doesn’t look too bad” said Tom, and Simon started to laugh.

“Funny how many people think that…Sally, you and Karen will not like it at all. Ada?”

Nana grinned, and muttered something about backwards with a lamb under her arm, and Simon just nodded. “Right, then, Roger will take the more sensible folk for a gentle scenic stroll, and we have the torment of the adipose awaiting. Vamos, muchachos”

Roger sighed. “Forget Clint, dear, he’s absolutely straight. At least, that’s what I heard from his boyfriend”

Sal and Karen went off with Brian and Roger for the Foxes Tarn path, and the rest of us made our way up to the tumble of broken slabs that make up Broad Stand. At the initial chimney, aptly called ‘Fat Man’s Agony’, there was a dad and lad, in plimsolls, shorts and vests, with bottles of fizzy pop in carrier bags, and Dad attempting to push sonny boy up the chimney. Simon winced, and ostentatiously started to uncoil a rope.

“Don’t mind us, we’ll take a while to sort our climbing gear out. You go on ahead, we’ll follow”

Dad looked at us with apprehension. “Is this a proper rock climb, like?”

Simon was friendly helpfulness incarnate. “This bit? No, this is just a scramble. Further on is the fun bit!”

“Oh….is there another way up? We want to get to the highest point, say we’ve done the top of England, like”

“Oh, that’s not this one, it’s that one over there”

“Oh, aye? Come on our Darren, we’re going up wrong peak. Thanks mate!”

Off they went up the Pike, and Simon sighed as he put the rope away. “Thank god for that. The number of people who get cragfast here…right, those with tits might find this awkward, but onward and upward!”

The chimney was easy, actually, but the ‘easy’ slabs afterwards were nerve-racking, with a real lack of sharp holds, and some long reaches. There was one corner where both Tessa and I needed a boost up, but the others made it look so easy I hated them, and it was all so absorbing that it was hard to make the transition to standing upright when the angle finally eased and we were there.

The others joined us at the summit, and after some refreshments we set off down to Burnmoor Tarn, where I had run on a wet day in another life, and I got a little weepy, and Nana saw. She turned to the rest and said “Stevie and me knaa our way home from here. We’ll have the kettle on for ye aal, we’ll run home.”

She turned to me. “Ready, lad?”

Ready.