He thinks now that if he had joined the army, his way of seeing the sea would not have changed dramatically. Now, he sees death in it: death lurking beneath the surface, ready to blow him to pieces; death, readying to swallow men down into the dark. And then, suddenly, the shift will occur and he will see his hand, but smaller, a boy’s hand, skimming the surface as he leans over the edge of his boat. The water fracturing over his fingers into dancing beads of light.
‘Oh,’ Aubrey says, ‘thank goodness. We’re nearly at the top.’
The steps are indeed growing shallower, then petering out. The Contessa has got there first, and has found a great stone slab to sit on. Hal and Aubrey join her. Stella, who stopped to look at something at the edge of the path, is gaining on them now, moving with a weightless agility. Beneath her arms and at her neckline there are patches faintly darkened by sweat, her cheeks flushed dark red. It is a marked departure from her usually immaculate appearance, and Hal finds something fascinating in the transformation.
She stops a few feet away, and he moves along the rock. ‘You want to sit?’
‘Oh no,’ she says, quickly, ‘I’m fine standing.’ She turns to take in the view, and he looks with her. He is gratified to see how high they have climbed. The fishing boats are like specks of lint in the harbour and even the Pygmalion, which has not yet set sail, looks dwarfed.
Stella turns back to them with a smile. She seems briefly unfettered.
‘What were you looking at?’ the Contessa asks. ‘By the path?’
‘Oh.’ She points nearby, to a white bloom that looks like a child’s drawing of a flower. ‘This – I think it’s called cistus. I haven’t seen them for a long time; since my childhood. They’re all along the path here.’
‘Bring some with you if you like,’ the Contessa says. ‘I’m sure we have a vase on the yacht.’
‘Oh no,’ Stella says, ‘it’s all right. I like seeing them like this, growing.’
Once they have all recovered their breath they continue, picking their way along the path, which is wider in places, then narrowing to a foot across in others. Hal is just behind Stella now. He likes watching her quick plimsoll-clad feet. There is no hesitation in her movements when they come to a steep drop, a thin and knotty piece of path.
It is only when he hears Aubrey call his name from some way off that Hal becomes aware of the gap they have opened between themselves and the other two. He turns and sees them some thirty feet away.
‘What is it?’
‘An injury,’ Aubrey calls. Hal sees that they are on one of the thinnest parts of the path. He can’t see the Contessa, and for a horrible second he imagines that she has fallen. But as he jogs back towards them he sees her, sitting on the verge.
‘What is it?’
‘Oh,’ she says, quite cheerfully, ‘I stepped badly and turned my foot.’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t see,’ Aubrey says, sheepishly. ‘I was taking a photograph.’
‘Shall I take a look?’ Hal is no expert, but has played enough sport to know the signs of a sprain.
The Contessa manoeuvres herself onto a nearby rock, and pulls up her trouser leg a little. The ankle beneath, Hal notices, shows no sign of swelling compared to its twin. But the Contessa is elderly, and no doubt frailer than she appears.
‘We should get you back down,’ Hal says. ‘I don’t think you can carry on like this.’
‘Ah, no no.’ She waves a hand impatiently. ‘I will be fine in a few minutes.’ They continue, at a much slower pace than before. Yet only a few minutes into the next leg of their journey she shakes her head. ‘It is a great shame, but I cannot continue.’
Hal turns back. ‘We’ll all go—’
‘No,’ she says, quickly. ‘I can go alone. Or … Aubrey, you will help me, yes?’
‘Of course.’
The Contessa gestures to Hal and Stella. ‘You two must continue.’
Both begin to object simultaneously.
‘Please,’ the Contessa says, firmly. ‘I will be upset if you do not. Someone must do the walk.’ She sighs. ‘I have to accept that I am so feeble now that I may never do it again. So, please, do it in my stead?’
‘Fine.’ Hal holds up his hands. ‘I give in.’ Stella nods, with evident reluctance.
The Contessa smiles. ‘Thank you.’
Aubrey has the Contessa brace an arm around his thin shoulders, and they begin their slow return back towards the town. Stella and Hal watch them until they are out of reach. For a few moments, a strange new quiet descends. Then Stella says, ‘Do you think they’ll be all right? Just the two of them?’
‘I hope so. Either way, we weren’t exactly left with much choice in the matter. There isn’t any disobeying our leader.’
‘No.’ And then, to his surprise, she laughs.
*
The wildflowers are incredible. As they pass these clouds of colour Hal asks Stella if she can name them. She lists them for him, pointing out each variety as they pass. Wild garlic, more white bursts of cistus, pale yellow dandelions. The occasional bright flag of a poppy.
‘Where did you learn all this?’
‘It interests me. We had a garden when I was young.’