she might somehow catch his voice in the ghostly static, she snapped it shut, pushed it into her pocket and allowed herself to be led back inside the hospital.
Josh Kingsley looked up at the majestic sight of Everest, pink in a freezing sunset.
He’d come here looking for something, hoping to recapture a time when he and his brother had planned this trip to Base Camp together. Older, a little wiser, he could see that it had been his big brother’s attempt to distract him from his misery at their parents’ divorce.
It had never happened. Now he was here alone but for the Sherpa porters, drawn to make this pilgrimage, take a few precious days out of a life so crowded by the demands of business that he was never entirely on his own. To find a way to come to terms with what had happened.
Now, overcome with the sudden need to talk to him, share this perfect moment, make his peace with the only member of his immediate family he cared about, he peeled off his gloves and took out the BlackBerry that he’d switched off three days ago.
Ignoring the continuous beep that signalled he had messages—work could wait, this wouldn’t—he scrolled hurriedly through his numbers. Too hurriedly. The slender black miracle of computer technology slipped through fingers rapidly numbing in the thin atmosphere. And, as if he, too, were frozen, he watched it bounce once, then fly out across a vast chasm, not moving until he heard the faint sound of it shattering a thousand feet below.
When he finally looked up, the snow had turned from pink to grey and, as the cold bit deeper, he shivered.
Josh would come, but not yet, not for twenty-four hours at the earliest. Now, numb with shock, incapable of driving, she let the nurse call Toby Makepeace. He was there within minutes, helped her deal with the paperwork before driving her home to Michael and Phoebe’s home and their three-month-old baby.
‘I hate to leave you,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t be alone.’
‘Elspeth’s here,’ she said, struggling with the simplest words. ‘She stayed with Posie.’ Then, knowing more was required, she forced herself to concentrate. ‘Thank you, Toby. You’ve been a real friend.’
‘I’m here. If you need anything. Help with arrangements…’
She swallowed, not wanting to think about what lay ahead. ‘Josh will be here.’ Tomorrow or the next day. ‘He’ll see to everything.’
‘Of course.’ He left his hand briefly on her arm, then turned and began to walk away.
Elspeth, a close friend of Michael and Phoebe, had answered Grace’s desperate call and stayed with Posie. Now she said nothing, just hugged her and made her a cup of tea and then shut herself in Michael’s study, taking on the task of calling everyone to let them know what had happened. She even rang Michael’s parents—his mother in Japan, his father in France.
Grace had never met either of them—Michael and Josh had only minimum contact with either parent since their divorce—but Elspeth had at least known them, could break the news without having first to explain who she was. Then she stayed to answer the phone, field the calls that came flooding in.
Calls from everyone but the one person she was waiting to hear from.
Friends arrived with food, stayed to give practical help, making up beds in the spare rooms in the main part of the house while Grace did the same in Josh’s basement flat. Even when her world was spinning out of control, she couldn’t bear to let anyone else do that.
Then she set about putting her own life on hold, leaving a message on the answering machine in the self-contained flat she occupied on the top floor, before taking her laptop downstairs.
Sitting in the armchair that had been a permanent fixture beside the Aga for as long as she could remember, Posie within reach in her crib, she scrolled through her schedule of classes, calling everyone who had booked a place, writing the cheques and envelopes to return their fees as she went. Anything to stop herself from thinking.
After that she was free to concentrate on Posie. Bathing her, feeding her, changing her, shutting out everything else but the sound of the telephone. She’d insisted that she tell Josh herself.
‘It’s night in China,’ Elspeth said, after the umpteenth time the phone rang and it wasn’t him. ‘He’s probably asleep with the phone switched off.’
‘No. My call didn’t go straight to the message service. It rang…’
‘Asleep and didn’t hear it, then.’
‘Maybe I should have told someone in his office—’
‘No. They’ve given you all the numbers they have and if you can’t get hold of him, neither can they.’
‘But—’
‘You’re the only person he’ll want to hear this from, Grace.’
‘Maybe.’ Was she making too much of that? What did it matter who gave him the news?
‘No question. You’re the closest thing he has to family.’
‘He has parents.’
Elspeth didn’t bother to answer, just said, ‘Come and have something to eat. Jane brought a quiche…’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t face anything.’
‘You don’t have the luxury of missing meals,’ Elspeth said firmly. ‘You have to keep strong for Posie.’
‘What about you?’ Grace asked. Elspeth had lost her best friend. She was suffering, too. ‘You’ve been on the go all day and I haven’t seen you eat a thing.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘No, you’re not.’ She lay Posie in the crib. ‘Sit down. Put your feet up while I boil us both an egg.’
‘Do I get toast soldiers?’ Elspeth asked, managing a smile.
‘Of course. It’s my turn to look after you, Elspeth.’
‘Only if you promise to take one of those pills the doctor left for you. You haven’t slept…’
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Not until I’ve spoken to Josh.’
‘But then?’
‘I promise,’ she said. And, because it was the only way to get Elspeth to eat, she forced down an egg, too, even managed a yoghurt.
She had a bath and might have dropped off in the warm water, but Posie was fretful. It was almost as if she sensed that something was out of kilter in her world and Grace put on Phoebe’s dressing gown so that she would have the comfort of her mother’s scent as she held her against her shoulder, crooning softly to her, walking the long night away—waiting, waiting, waiting for the phone to ring.
Finally, when she knew it was day on the other side of the world, she called again. Again, it was the answering service that picked up. ‘Where are you?’ she cried out in desperation. ‘Call me!’ All she got back was a hollow emptiness. ‘Michael’s dead, Josh,’ she said hopelessly. ‘Phoebe’s
