And then she was gone, the door swinging in her wake, and the changing room silent aside from the occasional squeak of Jem’s breathing. Jem sat on the central bench and opened her rucksack. Her book was balanced on top of her towel and toiletries like a siren on a rock, its cover bright and alluring, promising two hours of entertainment that wouldn’t involve falling from a great height and snapping something vital. It would be easy for her to hide in one of the cubicles, while away some time, and then see how Sylvie was faring with the Beast. She pulled the novel out and set it in her lap, toying with the frayed edge of its bookmark. She’d read it more times than she could count, but there was comfort in its familiarity, like spending time with good friends who arrived with no expectations and never outstayed their welcome. The thought brought Rosie to mind, and Jem’s eyes strayed to the climbing shoes. Rosie would tell her to go for it, to put the damn book away, put the damn shoes on, and haul her arse up the damn wall. It was only a beginner’s wall, after all. How high could it be?

The shoes were a perfect fit, removing her final excuse to procrastinate. She slinked out of the changing room, immediately overwhelmed by a hubbub of shouted instructions, cries of encouragement, and the occasional yelp of failure. A tall bald chap spotted her within seconds, dodging around a line of teenagers bedecked with ropes and carabiners to greet Jem by name.

“Kel asked me to look out for you. I’m Rob, and you have me all to yourself for”—he checked his mobile—“the next hour and fifty. Shall we make a start?”

“Okay,” Jem said, mesmerised by the sheer scale of the walls surrounding her. The climbing centre had been built inside a converted Victorian church, and a beautiful stained-glass window rained multi-coloured light onto the climbers. She pointed toward a young girl suspended in an acrobatic pose beneath a gnarly overhang. “We won’t be doing that, will we?”

“Not today,” Rob said. “Maybe save it for next time, eh?”

The corner he escorted her around deadened the worst of the noise, and he stopped in front of a bright orange slab, its rumpled surface stretching to about fifteen feet, liberally dotted with plastic holds and fixed metal loops. Jem felt queasy just looking at its summit ledge. Although she loved the mountains, she had no head for heights.

“I don’t think I can do this, either,” she whispered. “I’m not very strong.”