when back home. We never stopped hoping.”
“Christ, Prem, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.” He rubbed his face with his free hand, and cleared his throat. “I, I never knew what happened, whether...whether you made it back or not. I’m so pleased that you did.” He stopped, unable to find any more words.
“It’s an honour to see you again sir,” Prem said quietly. “I hope you are happy.”
Philip took the hand into a handshake, trying hard to keep it steady. “Thank you, corporal,” he replied, trying to think what to say. “I’d no idea I was travelling so near to your homes. I hope you have a successful trip.” He turned quickly and sat down on the bench, trying to hide his tears. He held his hands to the flames, but quickly clasped them together when he saw them trembling. He closed his eyes, head hanging down when he felt a hand laid gently upon his shoulder and a voice whispering in his ear.
“You did the right thing sir,” Prem said, so quietly it was hardly audible over the hiss of the lamps. “There was no other choice. We lived because of it. Balbir Rai has five children now because of you and we thank you for it.”
Philip closed his eyes, the memories flooding back, panic welling up and forcing him to take deep breaths. When he opened them again Prem had returned to the shadows and he was alone, the whole episode like a dream. He stood and walked unsteadily to the door, needing to be alone. Outside the air was cold and crisp, clearing his head as he breathed long, slow breaths. He walked to a small terrace and undid his fly, staring out across the valley as he relieved himself into a drainage gutter. In the freezing air he felt calmer, the shock of the meeting numbing.
When he’d finished he walked to a huge boulder that lay half embedded in the edge of a terrace and leant back against it, staring up at the stars. He didn’t remember any stars, mainly he guessed because they were hidden by the jungle canopy for so much of the time. The moon always reminded him of his men but the stars, no.
It had been over ten years since he’d last seen Prem and the others. He’d thought they’d died. Ten years of believing that their deaths were down to him. Tears ran silently down his cheeks. A sob racked his body which he tried to stifle by hugging himself tightly with his arms, squeezing it inside himself. He sank down the boulder until he was sitting on the ground and silently let the tears flow out of him. He’d never dared to ask when he’d got back and he’d been discharged so quickly. All ten of them. He covered his face with his hands and wept.
*
When Philip woke next morning it was still early. Mingma’s mother was making up the fire, using dried dung that Mingma was stacking by the hearth and the first hint of dawn was shining through the cracks in the rough wooden shutters. He sat up, his body stiff after the exertions of the previous day and a night sleeping on the stone floor cushioned only by thick woollen blankets and oily sheep skins. Glancing over at the bunks on the far side of the room he saw that Prem and the other ex-soldiers had gone. Mingma followed his gaze.
“They left a few minutes ago,” he said. “They wanted to get to the bazaar at first light to do their business.”
Philip nodded. Now he’d recovered from the initial shock, there were so many questions he wanted to ask.
Mingma must’ve sensed this. “They will return later, they left their travelling things here. I doubt they will buy everything they require in one day. It can take a week to fill up their loads and those of their porters and animals.” He stood up. “I’m afraid we will miss them however if we wish to make Thangboche today.”
Philip nodded again, rubbing his face vigorously in an effort to wake up.
“Of course,” he replied at last. “I’ll just go and splash my face and then I’ll be ready.”
By the time he returned a few minutes later he found Mingma ready to go, both their
“Christ, Prem, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.” He rubbed his face with his free hand, and cleared his throat. “I, I never knew what happened, whether...whether you made it back or not. I’m so pleased that you did.” He stopped, unable to find any more words.
“It’s an honour to see you again sir,” Prem said quietly. “I hope you are happy.”
Philip took the hand into a handshake, trying hard to keep it steady. “Thank you, corporal,” he replied, trying to think what to say. “I’d no idea I was travelling so near to your homes. I hope you have a successful trip.” He turned quickly and sat down on the bench, trying to hide his tears. He held his hands to the flames, but quickly clasped them together when he saw them trembling. He closed his eyes, head hanging down when he felt a hand laid gently upon his shoulder and a voice whispering in his ear.
“You did the right thing sir,” Prem said, so quietly it was hardly audible over the hiss of the lamps. “There was no other choice. We lived because of it. Balbir Rai has five children now because of you and we thank you for it.”
Philip closed his eyes, the memories flooding back, panic welling up and forcing him to take deep breaths. When he opened them again Prem had returned to the shadows and he was alone, the whole episode like a dream. He stood and walked unsteadily to the door, needing to be alone. Outside the air was cold and crisp, clearing his head as he breathed long, slow breaths. He walked to a small terrace and undid his fly, staring out across the valley as he relieved himself into a drainage gutter. In the freezing air he felt calmer, the shock of the meeting numbing.
When he’d finished he walked to a huge boulder that lay half embedded in the edge of a terrace and leant back against it, staring up at the stars. He didn’t remember any stars, mainly he guessed because they were hidden by the jungle canopy for so much of the time. The moon always reminded him of his men but the stars, no.
It had been over ten years since he’d last seen Prem and the others. He’d thought they’d died. Ten years of believing that their deaths were down to him. Tears ran silently down his cheeks. A sob racked his body which he tried to stifle by hugging himself tightly with his arms, squeezing it inside himself. He sank down the boulder until he was sitting on the ground and silently let the tears flow out of him. He’d never dared to ask when he’d got back and he’d been discharged so quickly. All ten of them. He covered his face with his hands and wept.
*
When Philip woke next morning it was still early. Mingma’s mother was making up the fire, using dried dung that Mingma was stacking by the hearth and the first hint of dawn was shining through the cracks in the rough wooden shutters. He sat up, his body stiff after the exertions of the previous day and a night sleeping on the stone floor cushioned only by thick woollen blankets and oily sheep skins. Glancing over at the bunks on the far side of the room he saw that Prem and the other ex-soldiers had gone. Mingma followed his gaze.
“They left a few minutes ago,” he said. “They wanted to get to the bazaar at first light to do their business.”
Philip nodded. Now he’d recovered from the initial shock, there were so many questions he wanted to ask.
Mingma must’ve sensed this. “They will return later, they left their travelling things here. I doubt they will buy everything they require in one day. It can take a week to fill up their loads and those of their porters and animals.” He stood up. “I’m afraid we will miss them however if we wish to make Thangboche today.”
Philip nodded again, rubbing his face vigorously in an effort to wake up.
“Of course,” he replied at last. “I’ll just go and splash my face and then I’ll be ready.”
By the time he returned a few minutes later he found Mingma ready to go, both their
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