She left the room, and Alice emptied her rucksack. Her legs were stiff from the walk up Helvellyn the day before, and she stood up to stretch them out. Brenda’s rucksack was on the bunk bed, so she bent over to have a look at the rolling technique.

The day pack was at the top, so she pulled it out. The flap at the top was unclipped, and it swung open as she set it down on the bed.

She did not intend to pry, but something caught her eye. There was an envelope – normal letter size – slit at the top.

It was stuffed with banknotes.

She looked closer.

They were banknotes, but not pounds. She reached in and put her finger between the envelope and the notes so she could see them better.

They were fifty-dollar Australian notes. There was a thick stack of them – maybe fifty, maybe a hundred.

And there were more – maybe another ten – unopened envelopes which presumably were full of bank notes too.

Why did Brenda have so much cash? All you needed these days was a bank card and access to an ATM. Maybe she had that too, and this was some kind of insurance policy, in case she lost her bank card. Or maybe she just preferred cash. But it was risky to carry this much. Now she knew why Brenda kept the day pack close, though.

There were other things in there. Her wallet, sunglasses. A passport.

Two passports.

Why did she have two passports? Maybe one belonged to her friend, and she had it for some reason. She realized she didn’t know Brenda’s last name. She reached for the passport.

And then she heard footsteps approaching the room, and the door opening.

She stepped back and looked into the rucksack.

‘Checking out my stuff?’ Brenda said. She was standing in the doorway, holding two bananas and a plate of toast.

Alice turned around, putting what she hoped was an easy smile on her lips.

‘Just seeing how it’s done. It’s impressive you can travel for so long with so little.’

‘It’s easy enough.’

Brenda put the food down. She was suspicious, her expression hard. Alice turned to her bed and started to roll up her clothes. She picked up a pair of jeans and threw them to Brenda.

‘Here,’ she said. ‘Give me a hand. We don’t want to miss that bus.’

If Striding Edge was majestic and imposing, Wast Water was intimidating.

No less majestic, and no less imposing, but neither was the main feeling Alice got when she stood on the narrow shore, the black mirror of the lake stretching ahead of her, a sheer scree slope shooting up behind her.

The feeling she got was fear. This was an ancient place, unchanged and unchanging, totally indifferent to the humans who came and went.