tried to wipe it off. White paste stuck to his fingers.
’Lucky it wasn’t superglue,’ said Amy.
The lakeside hall was crowded with bags, piles of clothes and people in brightly coloured leggings with heavy boots. They were cramming things into backpacks the guide had given them.
‘Mine is 108,’ Amy opened her navy backpack. She unzipped a small pocket.
‘What’s this?’ She pulled out a damp , folded paper with worn edges.
Christopher wiped his boot sideways on the mat leaving white streaks. ‘You’re reading it upside down. It’s 801.’
Amy twisted the bag around. The numbers were painted white on navy. The shoulder straps had been mended recently.’ You’re wrong. There aren’t 801 walkers on the Track at once.’
‘Probably the rest lost their backpacks, or fell down the mountain or went heli-hiking or...’ Christopher didn’t like to be wrong when others could hear.
‘108,’ repeated Amy.
Christopher squinted at the legend. He knew all about maps. The scale was 1 to 15,000. The close contour lines meant it was steep.
‘Guess what the crosses are,’ said Amy hurriedly. She didn’t have a clue.
‘Where someone took a photo,’ suggested Christopher.’ Or planned to take some.’
Amy counted the crosses. ‘Lots of photos.’
‘Take out everything you can do without,’ interrupted Zoe, the guide. ‘Remember, you’ll have to carry the pack.’
Christopher took out his toothbrush, and left the ‘ Crash’ computer game.
‘Let’s share teeth gear,’ he said to his twin.
‘Yuk. Not the brush. Toothpaste’s okay. If there’s any left.’ Amy slipped the map into her pocket. Later, she’d work it out.
He unzipped a side pocket of Amy’s bag. As he tried to push the toothpaste down, he left a white smear. And there was something already in there!
‘Who did this belong to?’ cried Christopher. It was a chocolate wrapper.
‘Haven’t seen that brand before. One square left.’ He ate it.
‘That might be poisonous,’ warned his sister. ‘Or past the use-by date or...’
Christopher read the label.’ No white or brown sugar. It’s diabetic chocolate.’
‘Someone from the previous trip left them by mistake. Usually we check. ‘Zoe quickly ran her hand inside the pocket. She pulled out a torn-in-half photo, just showing a trekker’s legs against a signpost with M on it.
Shorts, bare legs and climbing boots. Male or female? It was hard to tell. The photo was blurry and damp.
‘Maybe this will identify the owner?’
Amy wondered about trekker No 108 before her? Was it like the aircraft’s fake bomb? Something left behind by mistake? Or was it deliberate? Any other clues? She checked every pocket. On the inside, hidden away, she found another zipped pocket. Unzipping it, she felt inside.
‘Look!’ A flat watch in the shape of a bird. A copy-watch. One of those cheap fakes of famous brands. The ex- No 108 must have been the greatest Loser of all time.
‘We’re looking for a lost bird-lover who likes chocolate. Should be simple.’
Christopher laughed. ‘Who wears navy shorts and climbing boots, like millions of others.’ He peered at the half photo. ‘With not-very-hairy legs.’
Zoe took the watch. ‘Kea birds are the local thieves. They pinch everything that isn’t locked up. You’ll meet a few up the track. Bird smugglers try to get them out to sell for high prices overseas.’
Quickly Zoe slipped the kea watch and photo into her pocket, suggesting she’d keep them until the end of the track.
Was Zoe trying to hurry them along or was she covering up something about the kea watch? Would she know from her list who was on the earlier trip? Or would another guide have taken them?
‘D’you know who was 108 before me?’ asked Amy.
‘Have to check the list back at the hotel.’ Zoë tightened the re-sewn straps on Amy’s backpack and changed the subject. ‘The bad news is you carry your own gear. The good news is you don’t need much. The huts have drying rooms.’
’What luxury! Take that out.’ Mum pointed to the ‘Crash’ computer game.’ You’ll see it again in four days.
Here, put my spare battery in your pack Amy.’
Mum and Dad had to carry their cameras and sound equipment too. Plane passengers and The Loser might leave things behind, but Dad always double checked his gear. Sometimes he triple-checked.
Around the hall, people were re-packing. Extra clothes could be left behind in name-tagged cases. These would be flown to the hotel at the end of the Track.
‘Ready?’ Mum weight-tested her pack.
‘Careful of Claud,’ fussed Dad. Claud was his best camera. ‘Don’t get it wet.’
Usually, the twins flew in after their parents finished their work. But this trip was to be different. Christopher had forgotten how much Dad fussed when on a big job.
‘Here, a freebie. ‘ Zoe offered a cap ‘Explore with Dr Al. Each trek, we have a celebrity walking with us. Fans come just to walk with the celebrity.’
‘If a celebrity is someone famous,’ Christopher put the bright blue cap on, back to front, ‘can I get an autograph signed ... on my cap?’
‘Why not? Ask Dr Al. Last year a rugby fan got Big Jon to autograph his neck.’
‘Unreal, ‘ Christopher wondered if it had hurt. Pens were sharp. ‘ Big Jon was on our plane .’
‘Really?’ Zoe looked surprised. ‘ He has so many fans. One fan even tattooed Jon’s face on his shoulder. It wrinkled when he flexed his arm muscles.’
‘Slip these in your bag.’ Mum gave Christopher two birthday candles. They were number shaped. ‘They won’t make much difference to the weight.’
‘Who’s turning seven?’
‘Seventy. Day after tomorrow. Dr Al. Hide them. He’s coming this way now.’
Smiling, the tall, thin man shook hands with their parents. Dad said,’ These are our twins.’
Dr Al peered at Amy’s name tag. ‘ Hi. We’ve both got an A in our names.
His face had lived-in wrinkles. His body moved easily. ‘Amy? There was a famous woman flyer called
