Shadow of the Mountain (2 page)

G
eneva braked, frowning at the number of people
milling
outside RockZone. For a moment she considered gliding past and cycling back to Waimana but Keith had seen her coming.

‘Hi there,’ he called. ‘I wasn’t sure whether we were going to see you.’ His grin was welcoming but Geneva didn’t feel like returning it. He hadn’t said there’d be a busload.

‘You can leave your bike in the gear room out the back. It’ll be safer, and I’ll be unlocking anyway when we get back. Tink,’ he turned to a woman with spiked orange hair, ‘this is our latest recruit.’ He caught Geneva’s grimace. ‘A slightly reluctant one. I didn’t catch your name.’

‘Geneva.’

‘Like the city or the gin?’ Tink asked.

‘Combination of both, according to my parents.’

Tink grinned. ‘Sounds good to me.’

‘Tink’s our part-time instructor, full-time wildchild,’ Keith said. ‘I’ll let you introduce yourself to the others. We’re just waiting for one more then we’ll be off.’

‘Albie’s always off,’ one of the blokes at the back of the group quipped, setting off a scuffle.

Geneva turned away, wondering why she’d come.

‘Every group has a joker, hey?’ Tink said. ‘C’mon, I’ll show you where to stash the bike and we’ll sort you some gear. They’re not all bad,’ she added as Geneva followed her inside. ‘About half the group are new this trip.’ She smiled, and the knots in Geneva’s stomach loosened a fraction.

‘Have you done much climbing?’ Tink asked, selecting a harness from the racks in a small storeroom behind the counter. She looked a few years older than Geneva and the arms displayed by her tight top showed solid muscle as well as a couple of tatts.

‘A while back. Nothing recently.’ She could make out a bullfrog sitting on a heart-shaped lily pad high on Tink’s shoulder.

‘You’ll be familiar with the gear then.’ There was a slight question in the statement and Geneva mumbled assent. Tink’s voice, soft, almost girly, seemed at odds with her appearance. ‘We’ll break into groups once we get there,’ she said. ‘I usually take the novices but you can stick with me for the morning if you want.’

Geneva nodded. As they walked back to the minibus she scanned the rest of the group. There weren’t really that many. Four guys and a girl were chatting easily with Keith while a smaller group, two of them girls, stood to one side looking uncomfortable. Newbies, she thought, deciding to align
herself
with them for the trip.

In the scramble to find seats, Geneva found herself wedged between a slender Asian guy with an unlikely head of dreds who spent the trip mouthing lyrics to his MP3 player, and a girl whose name she didn’t catch who seemed engrossed in biting her already non-existent fingernails. The conversation
from the row behind was all about the technical details of a previous climb: BACAs, without a doubt.

Geneva tipped her head back against the headrest and thought about Stephen. He’d coined the term BACA on the trip to Carter Ridge, the first time she’d met his climbing mates. It stood for ‘Brain Addled by Climbing Addiction’. Stephen had recognised early the slightly obsessive nature of the sport, but his awareness hadn’t saved him from falling into the same trap.

Stephen had been sixteen when they did that trip. It had been a week before Geneva’s fifteenth birthday and her parents had initially said she was too young to go. Stephen had talked them round: school trip, guide supervision, birthday privilege — the works. He’d always been good at getting what he wanted.

The climbing had been easy enough but Geneva had found the wind-down afterwards a pain. They’d stopped at a pub on the way home — Stephen hadn’t mentioned that in his spiel — and the conversation had veered unpredictably between climbing technique and smut. One of the guys had tried to single her out for a bit of one on one. Stephen had responded to that fast enough.

‘Hey, are you with us?’

The unfamiliar voice cut through Geneva’s thoughts. ‘Sorry?’ A guy in front was hanging over the back of the seat, watching her expectantly. The one who arrived late — Simon. Dark eyes, fair hair, deep tan. Classic ski bunny. ‘What?’

He grinned, displaying a chipped front tooth. ‘We were just establishing the game plan. Any thoughts?’

‘Oh, um, whatever.’ Game plan, for chrissakes. It made
it sound like a bloody hockey match. Geneva found
herself
longing for the peace and quiet of a day climbing with Stephen. Longing so much that tears pricked behind her eyes and she bent quickly to tie an already tied shoelace. Why on earth had she come on this stupid trip?

‘Have you done any climbing before? Doesn’t matter if you haven’t,’ Simon smiled — a shade too patronisingly for Geneva’s taste. ‘Keri’s new too.’

The nail biter, Geneva remembered. ‘I’ve done a bit,’ she said, glancing at the girl beside her. Simon was still twisted in his seat, angling for encouragement. ‘I don’t know how you can travel like that,’ she added. ‘I’d get car sick.’ Meaning, turn around and leave me alone.

Simon’s expression changed gear. ‘You do look a bit pale. Maybe you should sit up front.’

With you? Geneva thought. Fat chance. ‘I’m okay,’ she said.

Beside her Keri was looking even more nervous —
probably
worried she was about to be barfed on. Geneva fixed her eyes on the line of hills beyond the window. ‘Is that where we’re headed?’ she asked nobody in particular.

‘Yeah, that’s Pinion Bluff at the left,’ Simon answered, his voice pitched too loud. ‘The novice climbs are further around the base of the ridge. We’ll be there in ten minutes,’ he added. ‘But just yell if you need to stop.’

Geneva kept her eyes on the view, heaving a mental sigh of relief when he turned and sank back into his seat.
Blockhead
. She thought about his tooth and smiled. Chip off the old block.

Ahead the hills lifted away in a series of sharp steps, their
low but steep faces promising good climbs. Even at this
distance
, you could see the weathered ridge had plenty to offer a mixed level group. Geneva suddenly found herself looking forward to the day, despite being out of practice — with the social side as much as with climbing. Her small-talk was so rusty she was worried it would squeak.

When they broke into groups Geneva quietly tagged along behind Tink and the novices, planning to keep her head down. After their first run-through it was clear Tink wouldn’t let her off that easily.

‘Geneva, why don’t you scoot along and find Keith. You’ll be a bit bored with this stuff, hey?’

Geneva shook her head. ‘No, I’m fine.’

‘Yeah, well, I don’t mind having you here but you might prefer to stretch yourself.’ When Geneva still hesitated, Tink relented. ‘Stick around if you like. I could use the help. But after lunch you can team up with Simon and Angus — they’re more your level, and you might as well make the most of the trip.’

Simon, Geneva thought. Great.

By mid-morning, it was clear that Tink didn’t give up easily, either on the rock or when her curiosity was aroused. ‘So where have you done your climbing?’ she asked as they moved to a new and only marginally more challenging rock face.

‘Just round about,’ Geneva hedged. ‘I haven’t done that much.’ She was reluctant to provide details but Tink’s speculative look was compelling. ‘I did a trip to Carter Ridge once,’ she added, ‘and Millar’s, Spiral, one or two other places.
But I’m way out of practice.’ She hoped that explained her lack of enthusiasm for ‘stretching herself’.

Tavita, one of the novices, interrupted with a question. Relieved to escape Tink’s well-meaning inquisition, Geneva leant back against the rough rock where they were resting and closed her eyes.

Carter Ridge. Stephen shouting down instructions when she froze on a wall, then capering like a loon when she finally made it to the top. Coming up to two years ago. He’d almost disappeared inside his enthusiasm for climbing not long after that. She’d seen less of him, his weekends tied up with trips that she only occasionally went on. He’d quickly outstripped her basic skills, and despite his efforts, she’d never become addicted the way he had.

An exasperated expletive from Keri broke into her reverie and Geneva helped her untangle the ropes, pushing the memories away. She should have known the trip would bring things to the surface — and maybe it was time for that, she told herself. Or then again, maybe not.

Geneva closed the door in her memory and concentrated on explaining the basics to Keri and another novice. That took her safely to midday, when the groups converged on the van and its supply of packed lunches. Geneva was stretched like a lizard on a warm plateau of rock above the car park, soaking up sun while she digested her filled roll, when
someone
dropped down beside her.

‘Hi.’

Raising the arm that was shading her face, Geneva squinted up at the newcomer, one of Keith’s group.

‘Hi,’ she replied, sitting up.

He was tall and slight with hair that flopped over his
forehead
, partially obscuring his face. Shy, maybe. She studied him warily. A thin scar ran along the near side of his jaw.

‘Geneva, yeah? Tink says you’re not a bad climber,’ he said.

‘As long as “not bad” doesn’t mean you’re assuming good.’

The corner of his mouth lifted, the scar following its
upward
curve like an understated echo. ‘Wouldn’t risk assuming anything,’ he paused. ‘I’m Angus.’

Geneva nodded. ‘Hello.’

‘Tink thought you might like to team up with Shake and me this arvo?’

She raised her brows. ‘Shake?’ It didn’t sound a great name for a climbing partner. Angus tilted his head to where Simon was talking to Keri, one arm penning her against the van while he gesticulated with the other. From where they sat Geneva couldn’t see Keri’s face but it was clear that Simon had yet to grasp the concept of personal space. ‘You mean Simon?’

‘He’s a good climber. Name as in milk.’

Geneva frowned, trying to work it out.

‘Mostly froth,’ Angus added helpfully.

She grinned briefly, the nickname confirming her own rapid assessment of Simon’s personality. ‘Okay,’ she agreed. ‘But don’t expect too much. I’m out of practice, and I was never that good. I’ll probably slow you down,’ she added, rolling the remains of her lunch into a tight ball as she clambered up.

Angus shrugged. ‘No big deal. I’m knackered anyway.’

She found herself returning his smile as they walked towards the van.

‘Simon, this is Geneva. She’s going to climb with us this afternoon,’ Angus said.

Keri ducked beneath Simon’s arm as he turned, but he seemed scarcely aware of her hasty departure, switching his focus to Geneva as if the object of his attentions was
irrelevant
just as long as there was one. ‘You’re welcome to climb on me any time,’ he said with a smirk.

‘Can it, Simon,’ Angus muttered.

Simon was already burbling on about climbing as if Geneva was a novice he’d been given the job of instructing. She said nothing as they roped up, and soon enough her body slipped into the rhythm of the first climb, all extraneous thoughts fading from her head.

They were well matched. Angus was technically the best climber but he was cautious. Simon had a competitive streak which meant he pushed himself harder. He liked to ‘win’ — not that climbing was a sport for winning and losing. Except — Geneva switched the thought off.

The next pitch they took on finished with a chimney. Simon was belaying from above; Angus was already up and over. It was far more demanding than the short climbs she’d spent the morning doing, and Geneva paused for a moment to gather her strength, legs and one arm braced across the narrow chute. Ducking her head, she wiped her face against her shoulder.

She knew how Stephen had become hooked on this. There was a compelling sense of yourself and the rock, not so much competing as merging. You had to trust not just your own body and skill, but the rock, too. You had to breathe with it, feel with it.

‘You okay there, Jenny?’ Simon’s voice broke into her reverie. ‘Need some help?’

Without replying, Geneva started upward, climbing faster than before. When she finished the pitch, Angus studiously avoided looking at her but she caught a grin on his face as he coiled the rope.

‘I thought you were stuck there for a minute. Just needed a rest, yeah?’ Simon said smugly.

‘Rising to the challenge,’ Angus suggested, finishing the coil. ‘Geneva, how about you lead for a bit?’

Her muscles were already complaining about the unfamiliar demands and she was about to say no when she saw the doubt on Simon’s face. ‘I’ll give it a go,’ she said, taking the coiled rope from Angus’s outstretched hand. So what if she regretted the decision tomorrow.

W
hen Keith called time on the trip, there were no complaints: it had been a hard day. By the time the gear was packed and stowed in the rear of the van she felt ready to chill, but the sight of Simon sitting in the seat next to hers made her pause. She had no intention of getting lumbered with his full-on lack of charm for the duration. ‘Hey, thanks,’ she said, heading for the seat he’d vacated. ‘I think I’ll be better off up front.’

The drive back was quieter than the morning’s trip had been, and Geneva guessed she wasn’t the only one feeling the impact of the day. Keith must have noticed the change too. Half an hour into the journey he pulled into a parking bay alongside a tiny rural store. ‘Sit tight, boys and girls, I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.’

When he returned to the van he passed Geneva a paper bag. ‘Reward for effort,’ he announced. ‘Pass ’em round. And don’t let me hear anyone saying that Scots are mean.’

‘Generous to a fault,’ Angus suggested, looking into the bag. ‘A whole lollipop each this time.’

Geneva passed the bag over her shoulder.

‘No singing his praises, it’ll go to his head,’ someone said.

‘In your case, no singing,’ came a quick reply.

Geneva found herself smiling as she peeled back the cellophane.

‘You lot have such sophisticated tastes,’ Keith commented, as rustling gave way to audible slurps.

‘Lollipops are one of the higher achievements of western civilisation,’ someone agreed.

‘Nah, that’d be two minute noodles.’

‘Yeah, right!’

‘No, seriously. Sustenance, convenience, and you can cook the whole deal during an ad break. How much more civilised can you get?’

‘Yeah, but I’ve seen you eat: nothing civilised about that!’

The van erupted with monkey noises. Geneva’s lips twitched. She’d been on enough trips to recognise the
inevitable
wind-down.

As the group quietened she let tiredness and the dull rhythm of the engine soothe her, her eyes half-closed so that the landscape flowed past in a formless pattern of greens and browns. By the time they reached the industrial outskirts, someone was snoring in the back.

At RockZone, there was the inevitable muddle of gear and groans. Geneva found Angus beside her as she hefted an
armload
of ropes.

‘So, do you think you’ll come again?’ he asked, as they unloaded in the storeroom. ‘There’s a weekly club session, as well as day trips.’ He found a flier beneath the counter and handed it to her. She studied the details of the Zone’s
opening
hours and specialised sessions. The club practice was on Wednesdays at four — it was possible.

‘It’d be good if you could make it,’ Angus added.

Geneva surprised herself by returning his smile as she slipped the brochure into her backpack.

‘Dad?’

Her father was standing in the middle of the room, hands empty, blinking in the sudden light.

‘Oh, hello, Genna. I was just …’ He looked around quickly, as if hunting for whatever he’d been about to say.

They hardly ever used the living room. Even so, Geneva wouldn’t have thought twice about finding her father there, except that he’d been standing in near darkness until she flipped the light switch.

They looked at each other for a moment before her father’s eyes drifted away. ‘Well. I’d better get on.’

His awkward smile stayed with her long after he’d left the room, till she gave herself a shake — she was standing just as aimlessly as her father had been. She turned her thoughts to the object of her foray. The books in the front room were mainly hardbacks, seldom read. Kneeling behind the couch she scanned the bottom shelves.
Rock Climbing in a Weekend, Ten Notable NZ Climbs
and
Basics of Freebasing
nestled alongside a cluster of mountaineering stories and biographies. Geneva pulled them out, rearranged the gaps and headed upstairs.

Her father was a worry. Standing in the dark … She lay on her bed and wondered if she should have talked to him. They didn’t talk much these days. Sighing, she picked up
Rock Climbing in a Weekend
and leafed through the intro. Maybe she shouldn’t have agreed to another climb. She probably wouldn’t have, if Angus hadn’t gone to the trouble of hassling
her — and even then, it didn’t mean she had to go. Even as she thought it, she knew that she would.

‘Hi, Geneva!’ Keith called, his shoes squeaking on the polished floor. ‘Great to see you again.’

She forced a smile. It had taken ten days to build up the courage and from the moment she locked her bike outside, her doubts had been circling like vultures.

‘Come and meet the group — you know some of them from the trip to Pinion Bluff.’

She glanced quickly around as she trailed him across the floor.

‘The club sessions tend to focus on the more technical
aspects
. You might enjoy it,’ Keith added, raising an eyebrow.

He broke them into teams, allocated tasks, and circulated between the groups, encouraging, chastising and badgering them into giving their best. He was good, there was no doubt about it, and Geneva found herself swinging between liking and loathing him as he alternated praise with criticism. She knew she shouldn’t be so vulnerable to either, but Keith had a way of making you want to do well.

He’d grouped her with Angus and a couple of girls she hadn’t met before, both of them older. There was no sign of Simon. By the time the hour and a half session was over, her shoulders and thighs were aching, her hair was damp with sweat, and she had a revitalised appreciation of the muscles around her ribcage. Keith had worked their group hard, maybe harder than the others.

She checked her observation with Angus as he handed her
a cup of water from the cooler.

‘He likes to get the most out of everyone,’ he agreed,
flopping
into one of the striped canvas chairs that were tucked into an alcove. ‘It’s good though. I’ve learnt heaps in the last year.’

Geneva nodded.

‘You seem more confident today,’ Angus said. ‘Especially the way you handled that overhang. That was great.’

‘Yeah, and falling off the last wall — that wasn’t.’

‘You were just tired. Seriously, though, have you been
practising
in secret?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s coming back to me a bit, that’s all. It’s a while since I’ve done much climbing.’

‘How come?’

Geneva shrugged and looked away. ‘Just busy. You know.’

Angus took the hint. ‘Are you at Bledisloe?’

‘St Andrew’s.’

‘That’s miles away! You biked over?’

Geneva nodded. ‘It’s not that far.’

Angus let out a breath through his teeth. ‘I don’t think I could hack it.’

‘Is this a private conversation or can anyone join?’ Tink asked, a green and silver eye winking from her navel as she flexed her arms and shoulders.

‘Feel free,’ Angus said, waving towards a vacant chair.

‘How’d you find the session?’ Tink asked.

Angus yawned and stretched his arms, leaving the question to Geneva. ‘Hard. It was good though,’ she replied, surprising herself.

‘Geneva biked over from Waimana,’ Angus announced.

Tink looked surprised. ‘You live over there? There’s an
indoor wall at the Harbour Centre — not that we want to lose you,’ she added.

‘We don’t live in Waimana — we’re kind of in between, so it’s not that much further to come here,’ she said, not quite truthfully.

‘Lifestyle block or farm?’ Tink asked.

‘Farm,’ Geneva answered. ‘That’s why I couldn’t make it last week — it’s a busy time of year.’

‘Getting close to lambing, I guess.’ Tink nodded. ‘I grew up on a farm too.’

‘Umm,’ Geneva acknowledged. Actually, it was years since she’d helped out.

‘I can’t say I miss it,’ Tink added.

‘I’ve always lived in town,’ Angus offered, reclaiming a place in the conversation. ‘Do you cycle to school as well?’

‘Yeah. Actually, I should get going. I haven’t got any lights.’ Geneva glanced at her watch.

‘Which side of Waimana?’ Tink asked.

‘Inland — Argyle. It’s about half an hour out, towards the Highway Twelve junction.’

‘Yeah, I know it. If you don’t mind waiting half an hour, I can take you as far as Matawai.’

‘Thanks, but I’ve got some stuff to pick up on the way. I’ll be fine if I head off now.’

Tink nodded. ‘Another time: the offer stands. I don’t mind running you home when it’s wet, or whatever.’

She stood up and turned to Angus. ‘You’d better talk the girl into signing up, Gussy-boy. We could do with a bit of new talent. I think Keri’s keen, but I must have scared the other beginners off.’

‘I can’t imagine how, Tinkerbell.’ The departing figure raised one finger behind her back. Angus grinned.

‘Tinkerbell’s not her real name, is it?’ Geneva asked dubiously.

‘Nah, just revenge for calling me Gus. It’s a long-standing joke. Her birth certificate says Tina, apparently, but she’s not a fan.’

‘Fair enough. Hey, I’d better get going. I’ll think about signing up,’ she added.

Angus walked with her to the door. ‘Come on the next trip anyway.’

She hesitated. ‘I suppose Simon would be there?’

Angus’s face fell so fast that Geneva nearly laughed. ‘Like, that would be a bad thing,’ she added.

Angus relaxed. ‘Oh, right. Yeah, he will. He hardly ever misses the chance to excel himself — which is getting
increasingly
difficult in some of his more specialised fields.’

A few possibilities sprang into Geneva’s mind. She smiled. ‘See you, then.’

As she swung onto the bike she looked back. Angus was still in the doorway, leaning sideways against the frame. Lanky rather than skinny she decided. The conversation had been one-sided: she hadn’t even discovered where he went to school. Sliding into the home-going traffic on the expressway, she wondered about the scar.