He hopped obligingly to one side, slowing his own progress to let her reach the summit alone. Her fingers clawed for purchase, and one final push allowed her to collapse her top half over the ledge. She stayed there for a few seconds, panting and smiling like an idiot, and then allowed her belaying buddy to gently guide her descent. Back on the crash mat, bouncing foot to foot, she pulled Rob into a hug and kissed his cheek when he offered her his hand.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling simultaneously lighter than air and fit to burst.

“My pleasure.” He sounded like he meant it, and his face was flushed with pride. “I’m very glad my one o’clock cancelled.”

She stopped untying the knot at her waist, the alarm he’d muted suddenly making sense. “What time is it?” She’d been scheduled to meet Sylvie at one.

“Twenty to two.”

“Really? Are you sure? Shit, I have to run.” She handed him her gear. “Thanks again for everything. I’ll pay the extra at the desk.”

“Don’t worry about that. My cancellation will have covered it.”

“I’ll leave you a big tip, then,” she called over her shoulder, already halfway to the changing room.

She showered in five minutes and applied generous amounts of deodorant, throwing on fresh clothes before chucking a couple of clips into her hair and hoping for the best. A gang of kids directed her to the Beast, but Sylvie wasn’t on the wall, and a chap swinging nine feet above Jem told her that Sylvie had soloed her chosen route in less than an hour.

At a loss, Jem returned to the front desk, where Kel met her with a round of applause.

“Congratulations,” Kel said, giving her a drumstick lolly. “To commemorate your first ascent.”

“I’ll treasure it.” Jem pocketed her prize. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Sylvie?”

Kel’s nose crinkled in discomfiture, and she fished a slip of paper from a pile of messages. “I have, actually. She left this for you.”

The message was short and succinct. Met a couple of friends here, and we’ve gone to the Butterbean Cafe. Get a taxi and join us if you want. S.

“They do the most revolting omelette,” Kel said. “You’d be better off eating that piece of paper.”

Jem was too thrilled with her afternoon’s adventure to feel slighted. “I don’t think she was really my type,” she said.

Kel took the message back, screwed it up, and tossed it over her shoulder. “Naw, Sylvie’s a strutter. She brings women here all the time, but she’s happier if you just stand on the mat and admire her. You had fun anyway, didn’t you?”

“Very much so.” Jem gave her thirty quid. “Can you pass that on to Rob?”

“Will do, but he won’t want it. His cancellation paid for your extra time.”