She’d never been able to get into mindfulness (although she did yoga for her backache), but as she followed him up the narrow trail, picking her way between rocks and scrambling up the steeper parts, the repetitive action of putting one foot in front of the other was oddly calming.

They climbed steadily toward the ridge in the distance, occasionally stopping to drink water. And during those pauses Joel did most of the talking. He didn’t ask about her life. He didn’t question her about anything, but he spoke freely about himself.

She learned that he’d been born and raised in a small town about half an hour from Forest Nest and that his sister still lived in the same town. His mother had died when he was five, and he’d been very close to his dad.

“My dad first brought me up here when I was seven. He gave me a book with all the Lakeland fells listed, and we ticked them off as we did them. I climbed a hundred and eighty with him. After he died my sister and I did his favorite climb together in his memory.”

She learned that he’d always liked building things and that one of the reasons he’d taken the job in London was that, after his father died, he couldn’t bear to be in the Lakes because it was so full of memories that every walk was painful.

So he’d moved away, and while his sister was getting married and raising a family, Joel had been building a life and a career in London, flying round the world working on big prestigious projects.

She learned that he’d had two long-term relationships, neither of which had worked out, mostly because he was always working and couldn’t find a way to be more available to a partner while still doing his job.

And then there was the day when he’d been staying in an anonymous hotel room in Toronto and he’d had a call from his sister to say that his brother-in-law had died suddenly. He’d flown home right away.

“And that was it.” They paused on a ridge, and he delved into the backpack and pulled out a couple of chocolate bars. “I resigned from my job, moved in with my sister for six months and kept things going until she was able to function again.”

“You’re a good brother.”

“She would have done the same for me.” He held out a chocolate bar, and she almost took it but then shook her head.

“I don’t eat chocolate.”

“What, never?” He tore the wrapper off his and ate a piece.

“Not for years.”

“Allergies? You don’t like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate.”