I do have some guilty feelings about all my trekking companions whom I’ve so easily neglected. But after a month of travelling together they’ve all bonded to form their own little cliques now—which I’m standing slightly outside of because of the amount of bonding I’ve been doing with Dean. And I feel sad that I’ve not taken the time to explore the souls of these individuals, but then my own soul was in such a state when I arrived, I’m not sure that I’d have been capable. But they’ve been a lot of fun and they’ve given Dean and me plenty of space to find each other.

Dave the solicitor and Jim the criminal-looking policeman have become firm but unlikely friends. Believe me, being in close proximity in a tiny tent for a month can be a strange experience. Graham the train driver and lovely, cuddly doctor Ian have rubbed along quite well too. And, thank goodness, none of us have required Ian’s professional services en route. Other than the odd blister, we are all relatively unscathed. Saffron has bonded with Felix and Felicity mainly due to their mutual dependency on homeopathic remedies, a penchant for chanting at inopportune moments and speaking in loud voices to Tibetan traders. They all feel that they’ve become more in touch with their spiritual side, which is nice. Saffron hasn’t yet come out as a lesbian; in fact, I think she’s rather disappointed that none of the single guys have made a play for her. But time is running out for her now—as it is for me. Tony and Tania are still as madly in love with each other to the exclusion of all else and I still feel very envious of their total absorption—particularly now that I’ve had a fleeting taste of it. How cruel is it that I’ve found someone so wonderful who lives a different life on the other side of the world?

I’m panting a bit as I ease my knees under the low table. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ I say.

My beautiful lover looks at me with concern. ‘Are you okay?’

I nod. ‘Fine.’

‘You’re shivering.’

‘It’s a little cold outside now.’

Dean doesn’t look convinced. He lowers his voice. ‘I’ve been worried about you.’

‘I popped into an internet café to send an email to Edie. It took longer than I thought.’

‘You haven’t had bad news?’

Smiling waiters in colourful, traditional costumes swarm round us delivering metal dishes brimming with spicy mutton, slices of wild boar, steaming rice and tiny terracotta cups of rakshi. The others chatter on without us.

‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s just…I’m just…’ My shoulders sag. ‘I don’t want to go home.’ I lean against him. ‘It’s getting nearer and nearer and I can’t stop it.’