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Chapters (84)
  1. Chapter one
  2. Chapter two
  3. Chapter three
  4. Chapter four
  5. Chapter five
  6. Chapter six
  7. Chapter seven
  8. Chapter eight
  9. Chapter nine
  10. Chapter ten
  11. Chapter eleven
  12. Chapter twelve
  13. Chapter thirteen
  14. Chapter fourteen
  15. Chapter fifteen
  16. Chapter sixteen
  17. Chapter seventeen
  18. Chapter eighteen
  19. Chapter nineteen
  20. Chapter twenty
  21. Chapter twenty-one
  22. Chapter twenty-two
  23. Chapter twenty-three
  24. Chapter twenty-four
  25. Chapter twenty-five
  26. Chapter twenty-six
  27. Chapter twenty-seven
  28. Chapter twenty-eight
  29. Chapter twenty-nine
  30. Chapter thirty
  31. Chapter thirty-one
  32. Chapter thirty-two
  33. Chapter thirty-three
  34. Chapter thirty-four
  35. Chapter thirty-five
  36. Chapter thirty-six
  37. Chapter thirty-seven
  38. Chapter thirty-eight
  39. Chapter thirty-nine
  40. Chapter forty
  41. Chapter forty-one
  42. Chapter forty-two
  43. Chapter forty-three
  44. Chapter forty-four
  45. Chapter forty-five
  46. Chapter forty-six
  47. Chapter forty-seven
  48. Chapter forty-eight
  49. Chapter forty-nine
  50. Chapter fifty
  51. Chapter fifty-one
  52. Chapter fifty-two
  53. Chapter fifty-three
  54. Chapter fifty-four
  55. Chapter fifty-five
  56. Chapter fifty-six
  57. Chapter fifty-seven
  58. Chapter fifty-eight
  59. Chapter fifty-nine
  60. Chapter sixty
  61. Chapter sixty-one
  62. Chapter sixty-two
  63. Chapter sixty-three
  64. Chapter sixty-four
  65. Chapter sixty-five
  66. Chapter sixty-six
  67. Chapter sixty-seven
  68. Chapter sixty-eight
  69. Chapter sixty-nine
  70. Chapter seventy
  71. Chapter seventy-one
  72. Chapter seventy-two
  73. Chapter seventy-three
  74. Chapter seventy-four
  75. Chapter seventy-five
  76. Chapter seventy-six
  77. Chapter seventy-seven
  78. Chapter seventy-eight
  79. Chapter seventy-nine
  80. Chapter eighty
  81. Chapter eighty-one
  82. Chapter eighty-two
  83. Chapter eighty-three
  84. Chapter eighty-four

He didn’t want cappuccino. He didn’t want champagne. He didn’t want to make love. He didn’t want to be sitting on a sofa that was exquisitely designed but as comfortable as a concrete slab. And he didn’t want Neve thinking that she could get round him so easily when he was still harbouring the sneaking suspicion that she had well and truly stitched him up like a kipper.

Sensing his lack of response, Neve eased away from him and went into the kitchen. He looked round the apartment. It was fabulous to look at, but it had no heart. Only a few weeks ago he had thought all this was exactly what he wanted. Now he wasn’t so sure at all. But if he didn’t want all this, exactly what did he want?

Chapter twenty-eight

Chapter twenty-eight

A dozen or more of the Nepali porters get on top of the bus along with the luggage and a basket of struggling chickens and three pumpkins while the rest of us squash inside. Someone pulls the blocks of wood out from under the wheels and we’re off again.

I find a seat near the back and jam myself in—Nepali legs are clearly a lot shorter than European ones. Our bumpy journey jogs along dusty dirt roads that cry for the want of Tarmac. We’re accompanied by the strains of a counterfeit George Michael cassette played at the wrong speed and the inside of the bus is madly decorated like a council house at Christmas. Tassels and streamers of every different shade of lurid swing wildly along with the motion of the bus and our porters clap along to George who hiccups as we hit every hump, bump and pothole in the road. I’m too stunned to speak. I cling on to my rucksack for protection and, in the stifling temperature, cook quietly in my own juices without the benefit of air-conditioning.

We squeeze our way through the suburbs of Pokhara, winding at wild speeds through the roads crammed with ragged people bartering for their daily food outside equally ragged shops. It’s seriously bad karma to hit one of the sacred cows wandering down the centre of the streets, but no one seems to have told our driver this and I’m sure he avoids them and the crowds of people by sheer good luck rather than good management.

Soon we leave behind the sound of honking car horns and climb further as the dirt track gets narrower and the shops and cheek-by-jowl, breeze-block houses give way to open fields and mudbrick, one-roomed homes clustered into tiny villages. We lurch to a standstill at the outer reaches of one of the villages just as I’m reaching the limit of my travelling ability, moments before the onset of nausea.