“And it’s got nothing to do with you smoking twenty fags a day?”

She flicks me the Vs. “Nah, the warmth of the smoke opens my tubes.”

“Try telling that to your GP.”

“She was the one who told me to try it.” She laughs good-naturedly. “C’mon, let’s get going.” She places one foot cautiously onto the first step. The dirt-brown water gushes around her boot and rolls down the hill, leaves and twigs twirling and whirling on the surface. It’s hard to see where one step ends and the next begins.

“It’s fine. Look.” She takes another step onto the path, and then, tentatively, another. “You just need to take it carefully and slowly, that’s – arrghhhh!” Her foot slips from beneath her and she falls backwards, landing on her bum with a splash.

“You all right?” I take a pace towards her, testing my weight on the first step, and reach out a hand.

“Yeah.” She twists round, plunging her hands into the water, and attempts to stand up. “Fuck. My ankle.”

“Have you twisted it?”

“Yeah, I think so. Shit!”

“Don’t move, I’ll try to lift you.” I inch forwards then crouch down. The water cascades over the top of my boots as I tuck my hands under Al’s armpits and take the strain. “Ready?”

She nods.

“One … two … three …”

I take as much of her weight as I can but she’s a good four stone heavier than me and she plops back into the river.

“You’re going to have to help me a bit,” I say. “Can you put some more weight on your good foot?”

“Okay. Ready?”

“One … two … three …” She groans as she puts her good foot on the ground and I yank her upwards. There’s a moment where we both wobble precariously and my heel slips on the step, but we manage to stay upright. Neither of us says anything for several seconds as we stare down the mountain, and then Al sighs heavily.

“There’s no way we can get down there. Not unless we both sit on our bums and make our way down toddler-style. We’re going to have to go back and wait for the weather to improve. Shit!”

My heart sinks. The excuse I made to Leanne and Daisy about my anti-anxiety tablets was only half the reason I want to leave. Despite the beautiful surroundings and the relaxed, easy-going way of life, cracks have started to appear in our friendship and the quiet rumblings of discontent that were much easier to escape in London have begun to grow louder. When you’re forced to live together twenty-four hours a day, there is no escape. You can’t go home and ignore your mobile for the rest of the weekend. Instead, the atmosphere follows you around, clouding the air, making it too dense to breathe.