Lake District, England, 1924

Ruth has pulled on her woollen hat. It is impractical in the fine rain but at least it keeps her head damply warm and her long hair out of her eyes. It is curious to be up here on the summit of Great Gable without George. If he was here, he’d have a rope and insist on going down via Napes Needle or some other climbing challenge. But he is not here and besides, she ticked off that Needle on her first ever climb a decade before. 

Now, they have three children – two girls, Clare and Beridge, and the youngest, baby John. All three are at the seaside with their Nanny as Ruth enjoys this rare, child-free break.She smiles and leans forward against the flat rock that rises like a solid table from the summit. From here she can see the crowd of people and still more emerging from the cloud. The bereaved relatives stand before the plaque, heads bowed. They are waiting for the first speaker. He lost a leg in the war and though he climbs, he climbs slowly. 

Mount Everest, Himalaya, 1924

Another step. Another breath. Plant the ice axe. Step. Breath. Axe. 

Lake District, England, 1924

Ruth is leaning her legs against the rock, her tweed pressed against her thighs. She is listening to the second speech. The man giving it was on a previous Everest expedition with George. Like her husband, he was one of the few climbers who survived the war intact. But some wounds are invisible. 

The speech is coming to a close. This monument lists the names of climbers who loved the “tops” but were mown down in the trenches. We must remember them. In the drizzly cloud on the summit of Great Gable in 1924, the bugler plays the Last Post.  

Mount Everest, Himalaya, 1924

Step. Breath. Axe. 

Lake District, England, 1924

As the notes fall away, below Ruth, a man in a cassock and dog collar begins: “They shall grow not old …”