‘This is Lily Tarn,’ she told him. ‘Lovely, hey – but we’re heading a bit further up yet.’
As they moved on, she guided them away from the main walking route. The uneven path grew steeper, and became strewn with rocks and loose stones, until sections of the trail were little more than flattened grass and bracken. Georgia took the lead, searching for the best footholds. She could tell that Leo was finding this more taxing than the runs they had done together previously. Fell-running wasn’t just about speed or strength, it was about knowing where to plant your feet, and the spring in your step that moved you between tufts of heather, rocky boulders and loose shale. Georgia knew she was fleet-footed – it was why she had been the school fell-running champion for the past two years – but she was also aware how often off-road runners injured themselves. Fell-running tested the mind as much as the body. Agility could not be taken for granted.
Leo trailed her until they reached Loughrigg Tarn.
‘Wow, is this Loughrigg?’ he panted, and when she nodded he stopped and rested, bent over with his hands on his knees.
‘I’m impressed,’ he said when he looked up. ‘That was hard going at times.’
Georgia had her hands on her hips, shaking her legs out, trying to regain her own breath. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘We definitely deserve a rest.’
They walked across the grass to a sheltered spot not far from a group of trees that overlooked the water.
‘This is the quintessential English view, surely.’ Leo seemed absorbed in the breathtaking scene before him. Beyond the lake, the gentle rolling green hills were generously dappled with blossoming trees, and all this formed an intricate hemline for the larger, steeper Langdale peaks behind. Directly in front of Leo and Georgia, the whole vast and verdant scene was perfectly mirrored in the still waters of the tarn.
Leo sank to his knees as Georgia produced a small towel from her backpack. She set out the bread and cheese she had brought, and Leo added fruit salad and juice.
‘It’s like a postcard, isn’t it?’ Georgia said. ‘And it’s good we’re up here early.’ She couldn’t see anyone else close by yet. ‘By lunchtime it will probably be busy.’
As they ate, Georgia began to enjoy her role as tour guide. She told him that this place was well known as one of Wordsworth’s favourites. Then she began to describe her own favourite place, Haweswater, which sometimes dried up enough to reveal the skeleton of a village that had been drowned to make the reservoir when her grandfather was a boy. When he seemed intrigued by the local folklore, she mentioned the spirit roads – one in particular that could be followed all the way from Mardale to Swindale Head, and the one close to her house, where they had issued dares to one another as kids.
Leo had been fascinated. ‘Dorset has its folktales and its beauty spots, but I don’t think they can compete with this.’
He asked her about the local running clubs, and Georgia outlined the rules and rivalries of each one. He laughed at her descriptions of some of the stalwarts, and he would hold her gaze for just a fraction too long, until she had to look away to get the breath back into her lungs. They moved on to talk about the best places for a night out, and Georgia was just trying to decide on her favourite pub when he suddenly said, ‘These are delicious, try one,’ and fed her a strawberry. His fingers were warm against her lips, making her blush and leading them into a pressing silence that was only toppled when Leo pointed towards the ridge of the hill. ‘What’s that?’
Georgia had already spotted the large yellow object bobbing slowly against the skyline. ‘I think it’s a giant banana,’ she laughed.
‘Why on earth is someone up here in a banana costume?’
‘Running for charity, probably. You’d be surprised what you see up here. Don’t be fooled by the emptiness – there’s rarely a dull day on the fells. My dad’ll testify to that.’
They watched the jogging banana make its way slowly across the horizon, until it disappeared from sight. A few other walkers kept a steady pace in the distance, but no one else had yet reached the water.
Georgia turned to Leo. ‘So, are you ready to bag your first tarn?’
He smiled, and pulled off his T-shirt in one movement. She tried not to stare at his bare chest, although her pulse began a frenzied tribal dance that made her turn away quickly. They both bent to pull off their footwear and socks. She had worn her swimming costume underneath her running singlet and shorts, and stripped down to it self-consciously, aware he was openly watching as he waited for her.