Risky Mountain

By Glen Dun

A recent death, an assault, and the chance of easy money, bring two groups with conflicting agendas to an isolated hikers' hut in the ruggard Australian Alps. As mutual suspicion increases, an uncomfortable alliance is imposed by the need to share the restricted living space. While dealing with this stand off, both groups struggle to resolve their own internal tensions. Priorities change when a body is discovered, resulting in a despereate competition to possess the only firearm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Glen Dun
• Release date: Jul 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386603832

Book preview

RISKY MOUNTAIN

Text copyright © 2018

Glen M Dun

All Rights Reserved

OVERVIEW

A recent death, an assault, and the chance of easy money, bring two groups with conflicting agendas to an isolated hikers’ hut in the rugged Victorian Alps.

As mutual suspicion increases, an uncomfortable alliance is imposed by the need to share the restricted living space.

While dealing with this stand-off, both groups struggle to resolve their own internal tensions.

Priorities change when a body is discovered, resulting in a desperate competition to possess the only fire-arm.

1

( JULY 2018 )

Dave Palmer’s heart switched to overdrive and his brows danced up his forehead as he found himself looking down the business end of a snub-nosed revolver.

‘Inside!’ He was grasped by his shirt front and dragged through the heavy door, which automatically closed softly behind him. The steady roar of inner city traffic was cut to a murmur. ‘You know the system, you’ve got a password to get in. You don’t just thump on the door.’

‘Sorry, Boss. Mind elsewhere.’

‘Well so long as it was somewhere, I guess I should be thankful. ‘Anyone around out there?’

The interrogator, Vince Carter, was a well-groomed, powerfully built man in his late forties with a penetrating gaze, who was starting to show the first signs of too much good living. He slid the gun into a shoulder holster, settled himself on the edge of his reception desk, and stared enquiringly at his visitor.

‘Bloody hell Vince! What d’yer mean Anyone out there? We’re in the middle of bloody Melbourne. There are people all over the shop!’

‘What I mean, you idiot,’ Vince growled, ’anyone who could be trouble.’

‘Well!’ Dave considered for a moment, ‘Anyone can be trouble, given the right circumstances.’

Realising from the expression on Vince’s face that this was not actually the best possible answer, he hurried on. ‘No, Boss, looks like just another ordinary day.’

Dave directed a dubious glance at Vince’s shoulder holster. Although he had to concede that there was a place for guns in their line of work, he preferred to rely on his long legs to keep him out of trouble. He had never been comfortable around firearms and was unsettled by his surprise confrontation with Vince’s revolver. ‘Just for future reference, I’d rather find myself looking at a cold beer.’

‘In the fridge; and you can top up my coffee.’

Dave took the mug to the pot that perked gently all day and often a good deal of the night, found a beer and came and stood beside Vince, who had moved to the window and was staring down into the street. ‘You seem a bit on edge, Boss. What’s going on?  Why the gun?’

‘Somebody, or more likely, some bodies, got to Martin.’

Dave paused with his beer halfway on its journey to his mouth. ‘You mean gave him a belting?’

‘Bit more than that!’ responded Vince grimly.

‘He’s .., He’s not...?’

‘No, he’s still alive, but probably lucky to be. Wound on the back of his head, broken ribs and broken nose. Unconscious for three days in IC, so I didn’t know about it ‘til he came around yesterday.’

‘Bloody Hell!’ Dave stared ahead, trying to come to terms with this. ‘Who’d want to take Martin on? You’d need half a dozen blokes just to get started. He must’ve been hit from behind and not seen it coming.’

‘Just about guaranteed,’ said Vince. ‘They certainly would’ve had to take him by surprise one way or another. But apart from that I’ve got no answers. I’ve spent most of the night with it going round in my head and ended up nowhere.’

’Martin’s got no clues?’

‘Not a one! When I saw him yesterday he couldn’t remember a thing about it.’ Vince shrugged morosely and turned away to look down into the street again. A few pedestrians strolled, but most hurried; traffic pulsed from one set of lights to the next. Nothing to see that was anything out of the ordinary. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. ‘Can’t see it being a random attack. He’s not the sort of bloke a couple of yobos would pick on for a bit of sport. But, whoqa knows? There’re some crazy characters about.’

‘Someone sorting out a personal issue maybe?’ ventured Dave. ‘Martin doesn’t talk much and he never talks about himself, so I haven’t a clue what he does with his own time.’

‘Or was it something to do with the business? That’s the real worry!’ Vince turned back from the window and Dave could see that worry was definitely the right word. Vince was haggard with dark circles under his eyes. He looked like a man who could use a good night’s sleep.

‘Do you reckon any of our previous clients could be unhappy with the service? You know, dissatisfied?’

Dave considered this. ‘Well, all of them actually.’

‘No, Dave! You are confusing the issue of whether they wanted to have to invest in the service in the first place, with whether they got what they paid for.’

‘Yes Boss, I see your point.’

‘And in that respect, as far as I can recall, we’ve never had a dissatisfied client. We’ve always provided exactly the service that they’ve paid for.’

‘Yeah, that’s right, but there are some people who just don’t like paying no matter how good the service.’

‘Also, Dave, there’s a shocking lack of trust in the world today.’

Dave considered this sobering thought. He would have liked to present a watertight argument that there was no cause for concern, but a previous client who bore a grudge was a definite possibility. There were people like that; people who just couldn’t let go and move on. ‘Well, I suppose Martin could have got sloppy,’ he conceded reluctantly. ‘Let himself be followed.’

‘Could be, but doesn’t seem likely. If ever there was a real professional, it’s Martin! Comes from his army days I suppose.’ Again, Vince cast his mind back over their recent clients, but could not bring to mind one who was more likely than another to be particularly vindictive. But the possibility of it being a previous client was a real worry because it might be that nearly killing Martin might not be enough to satisfy him.

‘What we have to assume is that the attack was premeditated and planned with respect to time and place and that it involved several blokes. I mean, you’d have to be mental to take on Martin single-handed.’

‘You’re dead right there Boss: you wouldn’t catch me trying it.’

The more Vince thought, the more cause there appeared for concern. If someone was going to be coming for him, it was his instinct to get in first, but at the moment all he could do was to sit exposed like a shag on a rock and do his best to watch his back. He placed his hand on the solid bulk of his holster. Comforting, but hardly a guarantee of protection. Maybe he should get out of town for a while until the situation clarified itself. But where and for how long?

Vince decided that asking himself unanswerable questions was taking him nowhere. He turned back to Dave. ‘Anyway, how come you’re here, apart from getting your hands on a beer?’ You’re not due in ‘til Wednesday.’

‘Several beers actually Boss. And I thought I’d drop in ‘cause I’ve got a little story to tell you that you might find of interest, but it’ll need keeping the whistle wet.’

‘It’ll need to be a bloody good story.’ Vince scanned the street again and appeared sufficiently reassured that he could turn away and subside into an arm chair. ‘Okay Dave, spit it out.’

‘Well, I was coming along Drummond Street and I saw people going to and fro between a car and a ground floor flat. As I approached, they all piled into the car and took off and I noticed that a key had been left in the door. So that sort of took my interest, Boss. ‘

‘As these things do!’ said Vince, shooting him a dark look, which Dave chose to ignore.

‘So, I wandered on a little way just waiting to see if they’d realize that they’d left the key and come scooting back.’

‘After a few minutes, there was no sign of them so I drifted back. There was nothing doing; no one around.  Just happened to have a bit of putty in my pocket...’

‘As coincidence would have it,’ remarked Vince drily.’

‘Exactly Boss. So, I slid the key out and took an impression.’

‘Dave, this isn’t something I really want to hear. You know what the rules are.’

‘Yeah, sorry, Boss. Old habits you know.’

‘I know too bloody well! Get on with it.’

‘Well I put the key back. Everything as silent as the grave, so I decided it was as good a chance as any to have a look around. Opened the door, stepped inside and closed it behind me. Moved down the hall. I was right beside the phone when it rang. Scared the bloody hell out of me. Nearly jumped through the ceiling.’

‘Then I heard a door go and footsteps on the tiles.  Ducked through the nearest open door, which happened to be the lounge room, and hid behind a big settee. The blind was down so it was pretty dark in there but from where I was, I could see the phone so I breathed a little easier; until I saw a vision of loveliness pick it up. She was starkers!  Every sailors fantasy. A real feast for the eyes!  So that sent the pulse rate up again.’

‘Yes Dave, I think I understand what you’re telling me. Hope there’s more to this sad story than you happening to be in the wrong place at the right time,’ muttered Vince.

‘Of course, Boss. So, there I was trying to see, but not be seen. Anyway, she picked up the phone and said Amber!, All business-like and efficient. For several moments I didn’t pick up on what she was saying next because I was focused on remembering her name in case I needed to sweet talk my may out.’ 

‘I don’t think that would have been much help!’

‘Probably not. It’s called grasping at straws. Anyway, it sounded like she was more interested in getting into the shower than she was in standing around having a chat, so instead of wandering off around the house, she stood where she was, waiting to put the phone down and get on with it.’

‘So you were able to continue feasting your eyes, you shameless bastard.’

‘Too right! On one hand, I felt that if I stayed there looking for the rest of my life it wouldn’t be long enough. On the other hand, I was wishing I’d never seen that bloody key ‘cause I knew that if she saw me, all hell would break loose.’

‘To put it mildly,’ muttered Vince. ‘Pity she didn’t see you. You might have learnt something. Is there any more to this sad story?’

‘I’m working towards it Boss, but just need to wet the whistle. Hard work all this talking.’

Vince was not sympathetic. ‘You should try all this listening.’

Dave returned from the fridge with a new can and took a long pull while Vince lit another cigarette.

‘Well after a minute or so I’d calmed down enough to notice what she was saying.’

‘So! what did she say?’

‘She said, gold!’

‘Gold!’

‘That’s right.’

‘Dave, I’ll remind you that flogging stolen jewellery is not our line of business. Too much risk and too little return. We’re doing too well, you’re doing too well, to jeopardize it.’

‘I don’t think this is about a bit of gold jewellery Boss. She spoke about doing something for her father. Then she said they should be able to carry the gold out between them, and that it would be best to pick it up before the area is opened to the public.’

Vince regarded him thoughtfully. ‘So, you are saying that there is gold that will need at least two people to carry it, and its sitting somewhere that is not currently open to the public, but it soon will be.’

‘That’s how it sounds.’

‘Interesting!’ Vince strongly believed that success in life came from recognizing and acting upon the little opportunities that came along from time to time. This could be such an opportunity.

‘Area, to be opened to the public,’ he mused. ‘Sounds like somewhere in the country. So, if it’s out in the country, this gold might have come out of the ground. It might have been stolen, probably a little bit at a time, from one of the big mining operations. If that was the case then it wouldn’t officially exist. No jeweller’s stamps, or ID marks or serial numbers, in which case it would be reasonably easy to shift.’

Dave nodded and took another pull at his beer.

‘Interesting!’ pondered Vince, ‘but there’s too much guess work and not enough fact, and none of it makes much sense.’ He shot Dave a probing glance. ‘Are you sure that you weren’t so busy with your eyes that your hearing wasn’t properly engaged?’

‘No, Boss! If my hearing had been any sharper it would have cut my ears off. I was trying to pick up any little bit of information that would give me a clue as to what would happen next. Like, would she go back to where she’d come from and hop in the shower, or would she go wandering through the rest of the house, and if she did that how was I going to explain how it was that I was hiding behind the furniture watching her in the nuddy? No, you don’t need to worry about my hearing; it was working overtime.’

‘Hmm! You’re sure instead of gold she didn’t say told or fold or hold or sold or one of the other twenty words that rhyme.

‘I don’t know about another twenty; I think you’ve got it covered pretty well there. Believe me Vince, there was less background noise than there is here at the moment. There were no pneumatic drills nearby, no power saws, no pile-drivers. She was speaking up nicely. She wasn’t whispering, or murmuring, or muttering. What she said was gold, G, O, L, D!’

‘Alright then, she said gold! I’ve got the message. There’s no need to go overboard.’

‘Just want to be sure, Boss, that there’s no misunderstanding about this.’

2

THERE WERE TIMES WHEN Cynthia felt quite defeated and demoralised. It was beyond her understanding that the Lord would want to keep testing her when He knew that her belief and commitment were absolute. She could only comfort herself with the thought that the more she was tested in this life, the greater would be her rewards in the next.

She had only just started to put behind her the humiliation that her husband Phillip had caused her; and now her teenage daughter Beth, who previously had always been such a consolation and support, was turning her back on an opportunity, and an honour, that would probably never come again.

Cynthia was always careful to avoid the sin of pride, but at the same time, she could not avoid the little thrill of satisfaction that came from the obvious respect and envy that Beth’s singing inspired in other parents, particularly other mothers. It was obvious to The Reverend Cyril what the Lord wanted, and it was obvious to Cynthia what the Lord wanted.

Why was it not obvious to Beth? How in Heaven’s name would Cynthia be able to explain that to the other members of the congregation? Why was it not obvious to Beth that her voice was a gift from God, a gift that must be nurtured and cherished, not neglected or discarded?

Free personal singing lessons from The Reverend Cyril! It didn’t get any better than that. But when she’d told Beth, instead of joyful exultation, her response was no response at all, just a sullen silence. When Cynthia had queried her daughter’s disinterest and expressed her amazement at her lack of enthusiasm, Beth had said that if she was going to have singing lessons she would rather have them from someone who could actually sing!

Cynthia took this as a personal affront.

She carefully put the iron on its stand, switched it off at the wall and turned to face Beth. ‘The Reverend Cyril has a lovely voice Beth, and the fact is that the Lord has blessed you, so you should be humbled that he has chosen you to receive this gift, not use it as a reason to belittle other people who are not quite so gifted.’

‘Mum, I am more than grateful that the Lord has given me this gift. And, I’m not wanting to put down The Reverend Cyril or anyone else, but I don’t think that The Reverend Cyril realises that he hasn’t also been blessed. If he did realise that, he wouldn’t sing as loudly as he does.’

Cynthia immediately rushed to Cyril’s defence, pointing out that The Reverend Cyril devoted his voice to the praise of the Lord (which more than compensated for any vocal imperfections). She went on to list all of Cyril’s other virtues as a means of confirming the excellence of his singing. ‘He is trying to set an example Beth for others to follow so that they will join in. And everyone else thinks he sings beautifully.’

‘Not everyone Mum.’

The discussion became an argument which became a quarrel until Beth was provoked to state, ‘One of the girls said her father thought The Reverend Cyril’s singing was like a howl from the bowel of a constipated owl.’

Cynthia was scandalised. ‘Beth! That is appalling. How could you say such a thing?’

‘I didn’t say it Mum, I’m just telling you what somebody else said. But that’s not what I think anyway. I think that his voice is alright, but he’s out of tune some of the time.’

‘I have never heard him out of tune Beth, and we will stop this conversation immediately thank you. You are undermining The Reverend Cyril’s dignity by discussing him like this. Just remember that he is one of the Chosen of the Chosen. Not only is he called Reverend to show that we recognise and respect his reverence, but he should be treated accordingly. Now, it appears that we have a Judas, a black sheep in our fold who is spurning the opportunity he has been given. Which girl is it whose father is so insolent?’

‘I can’t tell you Mum.’

‘You can tell me Beth and I am instructing you to do so immediately.’

‘No, Mum!’

‘Phillip, will you speak to your daughter please.’

Cynthia’s husband looked up wearily from the newspaper that he had been making a pretence of reading. He had been debating with himself the possibility of getting from his chair to the door without becoming embroiled in the discussion, but obviously he had left his run too late. ‘Why not just take the line of least resistance Beth and tell her what she wants to know?’

‘Two reasons Dad; one is that if I told her, she’d go straight back to the church and make a great big thing out of it and we’d have another inquisition like we did last year when they decided that Mr. Ingram and Mrs. Roberts were too friendly with each other.’

‘Sometimes an inquisition is necessary!’ grated Cynthia.

‘And the second reason is that my friend asked me not to tell anyone about what her father had said, and I said I wouldn’t. So, if I were to tell you Mum, it would mean breaking my promise.’

‘Some promises need to be broken and should be broken. You can tell me who this girl is Beth and then ask the Lord’s forgiveness for breaking your promise and I am absolutely certain that, under the circumstances, he will understand and forgive you.’

‘The Lord might forgive me Mum, but my friend might not.’

‘Are you saying that you would rather have the approval of some silly girl than the approval of the Lord?’

‘Why do you think the Lord would approve of me breaking my promise? Anyway, I’m not keeping it from the Lord Mum, because, as you’ve told me many times, he knows everything and everyone. I’m just keeping it from you because I don’t think you really need to know and if you did know, you’d embarrass me. But if you really, seriously believe that you need to know, ask the Lord and if he also believes you need to know, I expect he’ll tell you.’

‘Phillip! Bethwyn is being impertinent! You heard how she spoke to me!’

‘Yes Cynthia, but I do have to say that I think there is something in what Beth says. I think that a lot of the world’s problems today come from people taking offence on behalf of God or his local manifestation, when God is actually quite capable of looking after himself.’

‘It’s a matter of respect Phillip!’

‘Of course it is dear, and I think we should respect the fact that Beth is respecting something that was said to her in confidence, which is to her credit. Anyway, I don’t think the Church is going to collapse because of one or two snide remarks about someone’s singing, or their cooking, or how they do their hair, or anything else for that matter. But really, the whole issue is quite trivial and probably amounts to someone trying their hand at a bit of alliteration. Probably a bit unfair to direct it at Cyril, but if that’s the worst that’s ever said about him he can hardly complain.’

‘What do you mean by that Phillip?’

Phillip sensed that a slight adjustment of his position could be prudent. ‘What I mean Dear, is that anyone in a prominent position, which I’m sure you’ll agree he is, comes in for their fair share of criticism, justified or otherwise. It’s part of the territory, and there’s no reason why it would be any different for The Reverend Cyril. But if he lets himself be distracted by the trivial stuff he won’t make any progress with the important stuff.’

Cynthia was unhappily obliged to let the matter lapse, as Phillip had, again, failed to support her and she could not seem to stand up to Beth by herself, even though it was she who was the one speaking on behalf of the Lord. On top of that there was a member of the congregation who had the temerity to ridicule The Reverend Cyril, and it seemed that neither Phillip nor Beth thought it a serious matter. A matter that they should be emphatically responding to.

It was beyond comprehension.

She prayed to the Lord for guidance and enlightenment.

3

VINCE PICKED UP HIS mug, pushed his chair back and crossed his legs. For some moments he sipped his coffee and contemplated the heavy clouds that were rolling in from the Bay. ‘So, Dave, I presume your naked lady didn’t rumble you.’

Dave grinned. ‘She walked the other way, thank God.’

‘Could have been very embarrassing!’

‘Yeah, I had to have a couple of quiet beers in the first pub I could get to while I got my pulse back to normal.’

Vince lowered his mug and centred it carefully on a coaster. ‘Well I guess there’s a chance it could go somewhere; a small chance, but a chance never-the-less. But there is no point thinking about it any further until we have more information. She’s got no car?’

‘Don’t think so, but probably doesn’t need one, there’s a bus goes right past her front door.’

‘Okay, so we can just concentrate on her flat then. Get that key cut and then choose your time to get in and put a bug on the phone and the usual places.’

Dave looked uncomfortable. ‘Yeah not a problem Boss, but I just wonder if it’s a good move for me to make another appearance in the neighbourhood so soon. You know how you say we need to keep a low profile, well there could be some old Miss Marple biddy watching who comes and goes. How about we get Technoman to do it?’

Vince grinned. ‘You surprise me Dave, I thought you’d jump at the chance of seeing your Lady Godiva again.’

‘Yeah, I’d jump at the chance to see her again so long as there was no chance of her seeing me. You know how it is, every now and then you come across a woman who you sense doesn’t take prisoners. Well, she’s one of that lot. There’s something about her makes you reckon you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her.’

Vince suspected that this reaction was simply a result of Dave having got the wind up because of the awkward situation he’d managed to get himself into. But even so there was something in what he said. Dave’s long lanky build was distinctive enough to make him stand out in a crowd, whereas Technoman, an average sort of bloke with an average sort of appearance, was fairly close to average in height and build and consequently less likely to be noticed. ‘Well, it is a bit outside his job description but I suppose we could drop it on him. Been pretty quiet over the past few weeks so it’ll give him a chance to earn his retainer.’

Vince strolled across to the window again ‘Okay, while that’s happening you get onto the government websites and press releases. If there’s something new coming from the government you can bet your boots that there’ll be at least one politician wanting to take the credit for it.’

Dave drained the last of his beer. ‘I reckon you’re right again Boss.’

4

Cynthia turned away from the computer and smiled at The Reverend Cyril, who, by stepping through the door now occupied the only previously unutilised space in the cramped office that was the nerve centre of the Church of the Chosen. Her smile deepened as she anticipated the approval that would be bestowed upon her when he was presented with another example of her dedication.

‘Phillip has come up with some silly idea of going hiking in the mountains in Victoria the weekend after next. He wants me to go too but I told him that I couldn’t possibly get away.’

Cyril was silent for several moments while he opened his phone and checked the dates. Then he smiled his usual calm, beatific smile, and as she had so often done before, saw the grace of God radiating from him.

‘I expect that he is wanting to create some family togetherness.’

‘Yes, extended family togetherness,’ she sniffed. ‘There’s also his sister and a work-mate of his father’s they call Uncle Bruce whom I hardly know. I met him briefly at my father-in-law’s place several years ago. But neither of them are Godly people, and I’m concerned about his sister’s influence on Beth.’

‘Well, Cynthia,’ the Reverend Cyril smiled. ‘If the Lord has not yet opened their hearts they may benefit from your acquaintance.’

Cynthia was unconvinced. ‘I think that the likelihood of my sister in law benefiting from my acquaintance, or anybody else’s for that matter, is just about nil.’

He chastised her gently. ‘Cynthia, we must always think positive and remember the Lord has achieved remarkable things. Except for those in the direct employ of the devil, there are very few souls that are not capable of redemption. We must never underestimate his power to enter the hardest hearts.’

Cynthia cast her eyes down. She realised that she was close to entering into an argument with The Reverend Cyril and to do that would be most inappropriate.

The Reverend Cyril’s smile wrapped itself around her. ‘I’m sure that this excursion must be something Phillip has put quite some effort into; something that is important to him and something he wants you, as his wife, to be part of.’

‘Do you mean I should put aside God’s work to go wandering out in the bush?’

Cyril’s blue eyes glowed with divine benevolence. ‘I think you’ve already done so much of God’s work that you can take a few days off with a clear conscience.’

‘But Cyril, You’ve said how important it is and how much you depend upon me.’

‘I do, I do,’ he replied gently, squeezing her arm. ‘But Cynthia we’re all only human and I couldn’t afford to have you burn out on me.’

She stared earnestly into his eyes. ‘I’ll never burn out Cyril!’

‘No! I’m sure you won’t, but God’s work extends beyond what you do here. Your role within your family is also God’s work and should not be neglected.’

Cynthia bit her lip. Was this a veiled criticism? She was on the point of remonstrating but managed to hold back. Cyril was after all not just her leader but a member of the Inner Circle of the Chosen Ones. In effect, the Chosen of the Chosen, so what he said must be respected and accepted. But even so she found it hard not to react as she had never previously known Cyril to take the family circumstances of his followers into consideration.

Cynthia’s seven year old son Danny had complained several times about her absences and although she did her best to explain that she was helping The Reverend Cyril with his work for God and how important it was, Danny remained unimpressed. And her husband Phillip objected too in his own quiet way. He would never be so provocative as to accuse her of neglecting her family, but he would remark now and then how nice it would be if she was home for dinner, or that the children would like to see her before they went to bed. But in spite of these pulls she had never hesitated to put the Lord’s work first.

She would go off without concern, secure in the belief that, for the Lord, any sacrifice was justified and that one day her family would recognise the significance of the time and energy she had devoted to bring salvation to the ungodly, and be pleased and proud of her. Then they would see it as their duty to encourage and support her, and regret the times when they had not done so.

As one of the Lord’s shepherds who walked in the light of his truth, Cyril could not be capable of hypocrisy. But it rankled a little that after all the occasions when he had called upon the services of various members of the congregation (and more often than not Cynthia’s because of her book keeping and accounting skills) without expressing any concern about their family circumstances, he should now see the need to instruct Cynthia in her duty to give attention to her family.

‘I think you said the weekend after next?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Hmm!’ He thought for a few moments and then nodded. ‘That could actually work out quite well. A good time to take a break! Our State Investiture Committee is having an emergency meeting that weekend. I and a couple of our executives need to be there. Joseph Fredrickson is going to take the services so that I can get away. I was going to get you to take the Sunday school so that Nancy Ridge can get away. But I’m sure Michael Padstow could do that. It would be a good experience for him.

‘Yes!’ He bathed Cynthia in his benign smile. ‘That will work out very nicely, so you can tell Phillip that there’s no problem, no problem at all. But tell him this is just a one off. Normally you really are indispensable.’

Cynthia would usually have taken the remark at face value because she had no doubt as to the value of her contribution. But Cyril’s accompanying chuckle left her confused as to his real meaning.

She drove home feeling a little deflated. She had been so certain that Cyril would insist that he needed her over that weekend as he usually did. Now she had to come to terms with the business of preparing for the trip that Phillip was so fixated on. Clothing, food, utensils and equipment. She sighed wearily. It must be God’s will for her to go, although she could not for a moment imagine why he would want her to do such a thing. She did not really appreciate the countryside although she was quite happy to look at it through the window of a car or train.

But the wild forests and mountains she did not like at all. They seemed haphazard and godforsaken. That was it entirely, as if God had given up and decided that he couldn’t be bothered wasting any more time on them. But more than that, they could also be ominous and threatening as if they were indifferent to and beyond the control of both man and god.

The pleasure on Phillip’s face when she told him that Cyril had arranged things so that she could be away that weekend was some compensation and gradually her resentment ebbed away. Cynthia had already learnt that she could not, and probably should not, attempt to understand the mind of God. If it was God’s will that she spend several days out of her comfort zone, then that was what she must do.

But on the other hand, Cynthia was sure that she could tell when a thing was God’s will. When Cyril asked her to join the management committee she knew with every fibre of her being that this was what He intended for her. But she did