‘I just felt like going for a slide. Thought it might be quicker,’ I joke. ‘I scraped my arm,’ I admit, looking down to see only a little graze whose sting makes it feel worse than it looks.

‘Need to sit down?’ he asks.

‘No.’

He looks me up and down.

‘Let’s take a moment.’

‘I’m fine,’ I whine, hating the fact we’re having to stop because of me.

‘Insurance says I need to check you’re OK,’ he shrugs.

‘And I’ve said I am.’

He looks at me for a moment or two.

‘Any other injuries?’

‘I might have a scraped bum too.’

He raises his eyebrows at me.

‘No, I don’t need you to check it.’

‘As if I would ever suggest such a thing!’ he says, mockingly, looking over at the others and rubbing his eyes before turning back to me. ‘In all seriousness, do you feel fine to carry on?’

‘Do I actually need to tell you I’m fine again?’

‘Come on then.’

‘You’ve got this, Za!’ shouts Vicky as Scott starts moving back towards her. She hasn’t moved from her spot, although I’m guessing that’s because she’s scared about falling over too.

When we start going again, this time even more tentatively than before, the ache and stiffness worsen, and a wave of relief washes over me that I wasn’t seriously hurt. I feel a bubble of emotion swelling inside. Usually I’m able to push this down and park it, but as I walk I feel the tears fall down my face. Big, fat streams of tears falling uncontrollably. Not a wail of despair, but sadness, dripping from my insides, no longer willing to be contained and suppressed. Even when Pia died I didn’t allow the tears their freedom to flow. Mike needed us, Vicky needed me. I couldn’t let myself go there. So I squashed it, held it in as much as I could, and pushed Liam away so that this weakness couldn’t be found out.

The realization sends fresh waves of tears. They don’t feel debilitating, though, as I’ve always feared they would. They feel freeing, happy to be noticed and validated.

As we come to a few rocks that need more thought to navigate around, Mike turns and offers a hand across. Our eyes lock as he takes in my tear-stained face. I notice his jaw tighten. He squeezes my hand with his, his face showing a look of understanding and determination. Once I’m across the rocks we return to walking as before, the silent look between us speaking volumes.

A little while later, just as my tears have dried up, we walk over a ridge into a flat valley. With the fog having cleared, we can see that over in the far corner is our camp for the night.

‘Thank fuck for that,’ I mutter.