Chapter 2
“Northwest Electrical, may I take your name, please?”
“Jim Brown.”
“Good afternoon, Mr Brown. I’m Jayden. How can I help you today?”
“The ’leccy’s gone off.”
“Your electricity is off. When did it go off, Mr Brown?”
“About two minutes before I got on the phone to you. I’ve been on hold for half an hour now.”
Jayden glanced at the screen and saw he’d been on hold for only ten minutes. The muzak’s bad, mate, but I’ve heard worse. “I’m very sorry about that, Mr Brown. I need to ask a few questions to try and figure out what’s happened. Is that okay?”
“If it gets someone out here to sort it, fire away.”
“Is it all the electricity or just say the lights or just the plugs?”
“Everything’s dead, love.”
“And if you look outside, can you see street lights, or lights or appliances on in other houses?”
“Hang on.” Crackling down the line indicated he’d put the phone down. Distant muttering and cursing followed before his voice was clear again. “The street lights are on, and it looks like the woman across the street’s trying to compete with Blackpool’s Illuminations over there. Every light in the house must be on. That enough?”
“Yes, thank you. Do you know where the fuse box is for your house?”
“Under the stairs.”
“Okay. We need to take a look at the fuses and see if they’ve tripped. If that’s what’s caused your power to go off, then we should just be able to reset it, and you’ll be good to go again.”
“Bloody hell. Hang on a minute.”
Jayden glanced at the clock. 4:45 p.m. Only fifteen minutes until she was finished for the day. Let’s hope I can drag this call out that long. I don’t fancy any more today.
“Right,” Mr Brown said, huffing. “I can see all the fuses, and they’re all where they should be. The lights and the telly are still off. Now what?”
“Okay, Mr Brown, let me just check a few details with your account to make sure there aren’t any issues or any problems in the area.” She quickly paged through several screens and closed her eyes when she located the problem. “Mr Brown?”
“Yes. You sending an engineer round?”
“No, I’m afraid I won’t be able to do that. When was the last time you topped up your electricity?”
“Eh? You what?”
“You’re on an electricity metre. You go to the shop to put money on the key and then top up your account, right?”
“I don’t. That’s bloody daft, that is.”
“Your account’s been on a metre for four years, Mr Brown. Does your wife normally take care of the top-up? Or someone else in the house? Perhaps you could ask them when it was last loaded up?”
“Can’t ask the bitch. She’s gone and fucked off with her fancy fella.”
Shit. “I’m really sorry to hear that, Mr Brown. Looking at your details, though, and given what we’ve looked at, it looks like your metre just needs topping up with credit to bring your electric back on.”
“How the bloody hell am I supposed to do that?”
“You take the key and go to the nearest shop that does top-ups.” She tapped a few keys on the computer. “There’s a shop about a hundred metres from your house that does them. If you go there with the key, they’ll put the credit on it, then you insert it into the metre, and your electric will come back on.”
“And the heating?”
“Are you on electric heaters?”
“No, gas.”
“Erm, then you’ll need to speak to the gas people about your gas problems, sir.”
“Bitch. I bet she’s got that on one of these bloody metre things an’ all, hasn’t she?”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help to you, Mr Brown.”
He sighed heavily down the line. “Not your fault, love. I’m sorry I’m being a grumpy old bastard. I just don’t know where anything is or how it all works. She took care of everything in the house, you see. I went to work and earned the money. Now she’s gone off and left me, and I don’t know what to do without her.”
“It must be really hard for you, Mr Brown.”
“Listen to me blathering on. You don’t need to be hearing my sob story.”
“It’s all right. We’re a help desk after all. Here to help.”
He laughed, but it sounded sad. “Not this kind of help. Anyway, sorry to bother you. And thanks.”
“Not a problem. I hope you get everything sorted out.”
“Aye.”
She rang off the call and watched as the clock ticked over to five o’clock. She signed out of the phone system, logged off her computer, and slung her bag over her shoulder as she made her way to the door.
“Jayden, we’ve talked about your call times before,” Steph, the twenty-one-year-old office manager, said before she could open it.
Jayden turned and looked at her. “And?”
“You know we have targets we need to meet.”
“And customers who need to be satisfied. Sometimes that takes longer than five minutes.”
“Not if you follow the script.”
“Yes, if you follow the script. Sometimes they have junk blocking access to the metres they need to read, or fuses to flip. Sometimes they’re old, and they don’t move very quickly.”
“Then you should gently encourage them.”
Jayden shook her head and turned her back on the young woman. “Whatever,” she said as she shoved open the door and left the petty issues of the office behind her.
The evening sun on the rare spring sunny day beat down on the busy pavement, and the odour of tarmac, diesel fumes, and sweat hung in the air. She crossed the road to the bike rack, slipping her helmet and sunglasses on as she glanced across the street for traffic. She quickly unlocked her bike, put the saddle back on, and clipped into the pedals as she set off.
Manchester in rush hour was no place to be. Manchester in a car in rush hour was a hell she couldn’t stand. She cranked the pedals hard, building momentum as she clung to the curb down Piccadilly, and within a few minutes she was coasting around the roundabout and onto the A6. She had places to be and people to see. Well, one person, actually. But an important one.
The nursing home had sprung up from the swimming baths she and her sister had played in as children. A place they’d begged her mother to let them go every chance they had. A place their mum had eventually told them to stop bothering her about. Now it was an expensive private care facility for those suffering from dementia and Alzheimer’s disease. It was clean. It was well decked out. But it was still clinical, as all care facilities were. It was still sterile and had the lingering smell of antiseptic wherever you turned. Still, that was better than the other odours that could be dominating the place.
Jayden pulled up outside the front door, secured her bike to the fence rails, and stowed her helmet and gloves in her bag. She used the corner of her T-shirt to wipe her sweaty brow, re-secured her hair with a band at the nape of her neck, and pushed the buzzer for entry. One of the nurses waved at her as she signed in at reception and slinked over to her.
“Don’t you drive?”
Jayden frowned at her. “I’m sorry?”
“Every time I see you, you’re on your bike. Don’t you drive?”
“Oh, well, I have a license, but I don’t see the point in having a car. I like being on my bike. It’s easy to get around everywhere, and it keeps me in shape.” She shrugged, wondering what else the woman wanted to know. Her inside leg measurement, perhaps.
“I can see that.” She smiled wickedly and held out her hand. “I’m Debbie, I’ve just been assigned as your mum’s primary care worker.”
Jayden’s cheeks warmed under Debbie’s direct gaze as it flicked up and down her body long enough to both make her feel uncomfortable and help her ignore the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. The one where happiness used to be. The one that had sat empty for almost a year.
“Oh, right.” Jayden shuffled her bag to her other hand and took Debbie’s hand. “Jayden Harris.”
“The mountain climber, I know.”
Not anymore. Not since she’d flown out of Everest base camp and walked away from the Nepalese branch of Adventure Trekkers, much to her sister’s—and co-owner’s—dismay. But Fen simply couldn’t be in two places at once—Patagonia and Nepal—and Jayden wasn’t fit to be in any place at all. So Adventure Trekkers Nepal was no more. It wasn’t the only outfit that had ceased operating out of Everest’s base camp in the wake of the avalanche. Far from it.
“So you’re working with my mum?”
Debbie cleared her throat. “Yes, yes I am. She’s had a good day today. She wanted a bath earlier, and she had a walk around the garden after lunch. She seems happy.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you. Want me to show you through?”
Jayden shook her head. “I’m good, thanks.” She pulled open the door to the corridor that led to the main sitting area. The patio doors onto a small walled-in courtyard were open. The scent of lavender and roses drifted in on the warm breeze. People sat in chairs around the edges of the room, and she couldn’t help but think how it looked more like a doctor’s waiting room than the place where every one of these people lived. A young carer wandered around the room with a trolley full of plastic cups, a big jug of water, and a kettle full of tea. She asked everyone who was awake if they wanted a drink and supplied them. Most were asleep. Or pretending to be.
Can’t blame ’em. I’d want to sleep through this life too.
Michelle Harris was asleep—really asleep—in the far corner, her back to the open door, her hands wrapped around a Maltesers box, and a scowl painted on her face. Jayden snickered as she sat in the empty chair beside her and pulled her phone out of her pocket. While her mother slept, she replied to a message from her sister with a picture of their sleeping mother and started to scroll through Facebook.
Over the past nine months since Michelle had moved into the nursing home, Jayden had quickly learnt not to wake her mother. It never went well. It was far better to let her sleep. Even if she slept through the whole visit. Jayden had long since come to the conclusion that it really didn’t matter. Not to her mum, anyway. She didn’t remember she had a visitor from one moment to the next, and increasingly Michelle didn’t recognise her. The visits were for her own sake. Both Jayden and her sister knew it.
A message popped up on her screen.
Don’t let her sleep through the whole visit. I wanna Skype with you guys. I’m back at base, waiting.
Jayden rolled her eyes. Half a world away, and her big sister was still trying to boss her around.
You know what she’s like if I wake her. She gets in an awful mood. I’m not doing that to her just because you’ve finally gotten your arse back to semicivilisation at a decent hour!
Bitch.
And?
Seriously, is she okay?
Jayden looked at her mum with a critical eye. She looked thinner. The tall, wiry frame she and her mother shared was beginning to look little more than skin and bones. Her dirty-blond hair, also like Jayden’s, was normally full of curls, long, and a little wild. Today it looked lank, perhaps a little greasy. Strange since she’d supposedly had a bath earlier. But maybe she’d bathed and not let them wash her hair. It wouldn’t be the first time the stubborn woman had done something like that. Her clothes were clean, even though her cardigan was on inside out. It was highly likely that at some point throughout the day, Michelle had taken it off and put it back on herself that way.
She looks fine. They’re taking good care of her here.
Good job. It costs a fucking fortune.
Good job your company’s doing so well then, isn’t it?
It isn’t just my company, Jay, and you know it. Whether you’re out here working with me or not, it’s still half yours. Argentina, me, Nepal, you. Remember? So, when are you getting your arse back outside?
Ten past never gonna happen.
LMAO. I’ll believe that only on my deathbed, Mogo.
Jayden scowled at the use of the nickname Fen had christened her with when they were kids and started out climbing. Mogo—short for Mountain Goat—had stuck around longer than any of the other nicknames they’d used for each other over the years. And way longer than Jayden wished it had.
Fuck off.
Come out here and make me. You need these mountains just as much as I do.
Jayden chuckled at the familiar yet childish banter. But Fen was right, and as much as the thought of stepping foot on the ice again terrified her, Jayden knew it. She did need them. Almost as much as the air she breathed. She wasn’t going to admit it. But she knew it.
Leave me alone, I’m doing important work here.
What? Playing games on your phone?
Bitch.
Get your own insults, Baby Sister, and stop stealing what’s mine.
Ignoring you now.
Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.
Jayden shook her head and switched apps, opening up her games. She smiled as she made sure her mum was still asleep. Fen was right. She was over in Argentina, running their company and sending back all the funds they needed to keep their mum in the facility Jayden had chosen. Fen was working tour after tour to make ends meet. Jayden worked for just enough to cover her own rent and food money while she sat and watched it all drift by. It wasn’t fair to Fen, and Jayden was honest enough to admit that. But when was life ever fair?
“Who are you?”
Jayden snapped out of her reverie and looked at her mum, a big smile slipping onto her face as she turned. “It’s me.”
Michelle scowled, flailing out and catching Jayden’s cheek in a noisy slap. “Get away from me! You’re robbing me! Help! Help! She’s robbing me! Help me!”
Jayden jumped up from the chair and moved away quickly as her mum’s fists and feet set into attack mode. “It’s all right. I’m not robbing you. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s okay.”
“Help! Help! Someone please help me!” Michelle rolled her head against the back of the chair, screwed her eyes shut, and held her hands out in front of her in a gesture of surrender. “Please don’t hurt me!”
“Mum, it’s okay. It’s just me. No one’s going to hurt you. No one, I promise.”
Debbie appeared at her side. “Maybe you should move out of sight. I’ll try and get her to calm down a bit.”
Jayden nodded and moved away. She backed up as far as the doorway and stood so that she could see into the room but not be easily seen by her mum. It took Debbie half an hour of gentle coaxing to get Michelle to calm down enough that she could leave her.
It wasn’t the first time her mum hadn’t recognised her, and it wouldn’t be the last. It was quickly becoming the norm. She swallowed heavily and pushed away the feelings. There was more than enough time for those when she was alone.
Debbie approached her slowly, a gentle smile on her lips. “I’m not sure it would be a good idea to go back in tonight.”
Jayden shook her head. “No, I’m sure it wouldn’t.” She didn’t look away from her mum, now wandering about the room, picking up anything she could lift and looking at it against the light. “Thank you for calming her down.”
“It’s what I’m here for. Can I get you something before you go? A drink, maybe?”
“No thanks. I’m good.” She pushed the strap of her backpack higher up her shoulder and slid her other arm through. “Thanks again for helping Mum.” She didn’t wait for Debbie to answer; she just strode off down the hallway and out the doors.
The sun was starting to set, but grief clung to her. She needed to shake it off, to get away from it. She needed the silence and the vastness she’d never found anywhere but the mountains. But the mountains were no longer her refuge. Now they were the stuff of her nightmares.
She clipped into her pedals again and zipped out of the car park, then turned off the direct route home to take a detour, turning and riding with no direction in mind, no destination to reach but exhaustion. The night held little allure for her anymore, and sleep was an infrequent visitor.
The roads had quietened somewhat, but traffic was still everywhere as she rode the miles until her thighs ached, her lungs burned, and her mind was blissfully quiet. Then, and only then, did she make her way to her flat. She shouldered her bike, climbed the stairs, and opened the door.
“Hi, honey, I’m home,” she whispered to the empty, lonely space.