‘What’s the other walk?’ Alice said.

‘It’s very different, but just as spectacular. You start at the north-east end of Wast Water and walk around the lake. There’s a path up a small fell called Illgill Head which has great views of the lake. It’s Lakeland’s deepest lake, and the most dramatic, if you ask me. The mountains that surround it are some of the highest in the Lakes, and they drop down – on one side at least – in a sheer slope.’

‘I like the sound of them both,’ Alice said. ‘It’s hard to choose.’

‘Then let’s do both,’ Brenda said. ‘We can hike Striding Edge today and then go to the other one tomorrow before we leave.’

Sharon pulled a map from a rack behind the counter. ‘That’s what I’d do,’ she said. ‘Let me show you the routes.’

They left Patterdale – the start point for Helvellyn – late morning, and headed up a lush green valley, past farm buildings and along a shallow, crystal-clear stream. Sharon had given them an Ordnance Survey map with the route marked in pencil; Alice stopped to look at it.

‘I think we head to the right here,’ she said. A narrow path snaked up towards a lowering mountain. ‘That’s where we’re going.’

It looked innocuous enough, but it steepened quickly and her thighs started to burn with each step. After a while they came to a stile over a stone wall; Alice climbed over, then paused on the other side.

‘Let’s take a break,’ she said. ‘This is tough.’

Alice was breathing heavily, sweat running from her forehead. She was surprised to see Brenda was hardly out of breath. She was fit, lean and muscular, but Alice had not thought she was as strong as this.

They sat against the wall; the stones were warm against their backs. To the left was the valley they had come from; ahead was a narrow, razor-edged ridge that led to the summit of Helvellyn itself.

‘She didn’t lie,’ Alice said. ‘This is spectacular.’

‘Yeah,’ Brenda said. She seemed strangely unmoved. ‘It’s lovely. Want to keep going?’

Alice swigged some water and got to her feet.

‘Let’s do it,’ she said.

Alice had never been anywhere like Striding Edge. It seemed to stretch on for ever, a narrow ribbon of rock suspended between mountain tops. In parts she felt secure; in other parts the path was only a few feet wide and she was painfully aware of the vertiginous drops on either side. To the right there was a kind of bowl with a small lake – Red Tarn, the map said – visible far below. That side was incredibly steep, but at least you could see where it led. The left dropped into nothingness.

‘One slip could be fatal,’ she said. ‘You’d never be able to stop yourself sliding down.’