PHYTOPHTHORA

Stella opened Facebook and saw that Graeme Stephens had tagged her in a photograph from 10 years ago. They were all in it, fresh-faced and laughing, leaning towards the camera. Behind them was their first failed attempt at putting up a tent, and beyond the tent the muted colours of the hills. It shocked her how young she looked and how all of them seemed if not hopeful exactly then at least with the hope that hopefulness would come. The trip was supposed to have been their last hurrah before they went off to university or got jobs, or whatever else they were going to do with the rest of their lives.

She read the comments.

DAN: Ten years. How the fuck did that happen?

VIJAY: Missed you guys!

KATE: Me too!

Stella missed something, though she wasn’t altogether sure if it was them exactly, or just that time, those years of self-discovery.

In the afternoon, she logged on again, and saw that Grae had left another comment.

Let’s do it again. Let’s re-create it.

Stella tapped out a reply.

Exactly?

Grae, online, replied immediately.

Well, as close as is humanly possible.

No one mentioned Jacob Hayes, though they all must have been thinking about him. She could see him in her memory, the camera held up to his face, his nervous hands like things that had never seen the light.

They met outside the school, just as they’d done before, and there they all were: Dan with that same wide, winning smile they’d all fallen for; Grae exuberant; Vijay a big oaf; and Kate a streak of nothing in skinny jeans and a sad smile. By the time they were on