White. Rosie Thomas
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put her arm round him and pulled gently at his hair. ‘You go to enough exotic places. It’s definitely my turn.’
Later, loosened up by the wine, they sat down to eat. The limed oak table made another small island in the big space. There was Scandinavian cutlery, and Italian glassware and French china, and outside the lights strung along the shoreline fractured the dark space of wind and water. As a little girl, Finch had always felt the stark contrast between the order and luxury within and the wilderness just inches beyond the glass. It had never felt like a comfortable house, for all its comforts. She was also aware that none of the others felt the same as she did. They all loved the family home. Marcus had even built himself one not dissimilar, a little further up the coast.
Over the compote of winter fruits, Marcus wondered what the next family celebration would be. ‘When shall we nine all meet again?’ he said jovially.
‘Finch’s engagement party, I hope,’ Clare said.
Finch put down her spoon. It made a clatter that she hadn’t intended. ‘Oh, please.’
‘I can wish to see my one girl safely married to a man who will make her happy, can’t I?’
From a glance at their faces, Finch realised that Kitty had told Clare about her turning down Ralf. And Clare was smiling to mask her disappointment, but couldn’t resist an oblique mention of it. The conversation at the opposite end of the table faded away and everyone listened uneasily.
‘It isn’t what I want,’ Finch snapped.
In the silence that followed she could have kicked herself for her touchiness, tonight of all nights. She should just have smiled and let it pass.
Suzy would have advised: Say nothing, you dope. It’s way easier. Don’t you ever learn?
Caleb put his hand over his sister’s. ‘Hey. Lighten up.’
Finch collected herself. ‘I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry. I know what you want for me and why you want it. I’m so pleased that we’re all together tonight. And seeing you all … maybe it makes me feel I should be settling down.’
There was a little chorus of disbelief. After she qualified Finch had worked for a year in Asia and had travelled like a nomad. And once she had come back to live in Vancouver there had been the regular mountaineering expeditions. Except for Clare, they accepted that that was the way Finch lived.
Angus said, ‘We all liked Ralf, you know. We’d have been glad if you had chosen him, but as you didn’t – well, that’s fine too.’
From down the table Kitty silently signalled her apology to Finch for unleashing all this.
‘You’ve got plenty of time, darling,’ Clare said. ‘You go and climb Everest …’
‘I’m not going all the way. I’m only supporting the serious mountaineers.’
‘Do you think we believe that?’ Caleb laughed.
‘… and then come home. And after that, maybe you’ll be ready.’
Suzy: For the serious business of life.
And Finch thought she heard her friend saying that straight.
Maybe, she silently rejoined. Maybe I can only find that out by going.
There was, after all, some buried instinct stirring in her, making her dream at the deepest level of something that the rest of her life appeared to deny. If there had not been, then she would not have chosen to join this expedition, this particular one of so many.
‘Who is taking you to the airport tomorrow?’ Angus was asking. ‘Your mother and I would like to, you know that.’
‘Dennis is,’ Finch said firmly. ‘We will have some last-minute things to settle. Patients, management, bits of business.’
Dennis Frame was Finch’s medical partner. She had known him since high school and after Suzy he was her closest friend.
‘I was, in fact, the very last child in the world to be named Dennis,’ he said, but he refused to answer to Den or Denny. He was tolerant, slightly introspective, and gay. Finch greatly admired him. With the help of two other physicians, he would look after Finch’s patients in her absence.
The evening was coming to an end. Caleb’s and Jessy’s son had slept through the dinner but now he had woken up and was starting to cry. Tanya said she had an early start in the morning and James was flying to Toronto. They moved from their seats and crossed the spaces of the room to embrace and exchange the shorthand assurances of families. Write. Phone. All the news. Mail me.
This was Finch’s matrix. She felt restricted by it when it was tight around her, like tonight, but she knew when she stood back she would see the firm knitted strands of it and value it in theory.
All eight of them came out to the driveway to wave her off. The air smelled of rain and salt.
‘I shouldn’t have said anything. Will you forgive me?’ Kitty whispered.
‘I’m pleased you did. It saved me having to bring it up.’
Each of the boys hugged her and warned her to be careful. Their concern made her feel like the little girl again, trying to demonstrate that she could run as far and jump as high as they could.
Tanya and Jessica kissed her, wishing her luck in clear incomprehension of why she would want to go at all.
Clare and Angus took her hands and wrapped her in their arms, and tried not to repeat all the things they had said already.
At last, Finch climbed into her car. Her family stood solid against the yellow lights of the house, waving her off. She drove back to the city, to the apartment that already seemed unaired and deserted. There were a few books, some cushions and candles that had mostly been given to her as presents, but otherwise the rooms were almost featureless, as if she were just staying a night or two on her way to somewhere else. Finch didn’t want to copy the grand architectural effects of her parents’ home, and if she had given her own taste free rein she would probably have cosied her rooms with knitted afghans and pot plants and patchwork quilts. She left them altogether unadorned for simplicity’s sake.
It was after midnight. She stepped past the neat pyramid of her expedition baggage and stopped with her back to the hallway. Her shoulders drooped and she pushed out her clenched fists in a long cat-stretch of relief and abandonment. The boats were burned, completely incinerated, and she was actually going.
She had a job to do, a team to fit in with and the biggest challenge of her life waiting to be met. Now that it was happening she felt relieved and ready for it. What would come, would come. She clicked off the lights and went into her bedroom.
Sam sat at his computer in his apartment in Seattle. It was late, gone midnight, and the enclosing pool of light from his desk lamp and the broad darkness beyond it heightened his sense of isolation. From beyond the window he could just hear the city night sounds – a distant police or ambulance siren and the steady beat of rain. A humdrum March evening, seeming to contain his whole life in its lustreless boundaries.
He tapped the keys and gave a sniff of satisfaction as the links led him to the site he was searching for. He tapped again and leaned back to wait for the information to download. The teeming other-world of netborne data no longer fascinated him as it had once done. And as he stared at the screen he asked himself bleakly, what does interest you, truly and deeply? Name one thing. Was it this he was searching the Net for?
An hour ago Frannie had come to look in on him, standing in the doorway in her kimono with her fingers knitted around a cup of herbal tea. ‘Are you coming to bed?’
He had glanced at her over the monitor. ‘Not yet.’
She had shrugged and drifted away.
The website home page was titled ‘The Mountain People’, the logo outlined against a snow peak and a blazing blue sky. Quite well designed, he noted automatically, and clicked on one