“Yes?”
The question leaves my mouth before I can stop it.
“Are you really fit to go into the mountains?”
It isn’t meant to sound accusing. But it does. Because last night is still there between us. The weight of him leaning into me. The helplessness. The loss of control.
He knows exactly what I’m asking.
For a second, he just looks at me.
He exhales slowly, like he’s checking in with himself.
“I’m hungover,” he says plainly.
No excuses. No attempt to pretend otherwise.
“But I’m not drunk.”
His voice is calm. Matter –of fact.
“The adrenaline helps,” he adds. “And the cold air. It clears your head fast. And I have my breakfast sandwich.” He winks at the last word.
There’s no bravado in it. No reckless pride. Just quiet confidence born from experience. From knowing himself. His limits. His responsibilities.
He shifts his weight slightly, already half turned toward the door, but his eyes stay on mine.
“I wouldn’t go if I wasn’t capable of doing my job,” he says.
“Be careful.”
A small smile touches his mouth.
“Always.”
And then he’s gone.
The bell above the café door chimes softly as it closes behind him.
I sit there for a moment longer, staring at the empty space he left behind, trying to reconcile the man from last night with the one who just walked out without hesitation.
Not weak.
Not fearless.
Just someone who keeps showing up, even when it would be easier not to.
Chapter 7
Phil
Helvellyn is wrapped inlow cloud when we reach the upper path, the visibility shifting between clear and opaque depending on how the wind moves the mist. The ground is slick underfoot, every rock holding the memory of last night’s rain. It’s the kind of day where one careless step is all it takes.
Tommy leads, steady and unhurried, his orange Fellside Mountain Rescue trousers bright against the grey. He’s been doing this longer than any of us, and he moves with the quiet authority of someone who trusts his instincts because they’ve been tested enough times to earn it.
Nick walks beside him, scanning ahead, while Chris and Rob follow behind with the stretcher between them, boots finding holds automatically. Alex and I flank them, adjusting pace where needed, the rhythm of the team settling in without discussion.
Nobody talks much on the approach.