LITMIR.BIZ

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Finch could imagine just how happy he would be among his bone saws and glinting titanium joints.

      ‘Hello, Taylor, Maddie.’

      ‘Ah, Finch. Hello there.’

      They chatted for a while, about friends and work and the Buckabys’ children.

      ‘No plans to settle down yourself, Finch?’ Maddie asked.

      ‘No, none.’

      ‘Finch goes in for bigger challenges than a husband and kids,’ Taylor explained jovially, puffing out his already rounded cheeks. ‘Last year she went up to Alaska and climbed McKinley.’

      Maddie focused her pale-blue eyes. She looked as if she was used to putting away plenty of champagne, or whatever else might be going.

      ‘Why?’

      There were a couple of beats of silence while Finch considered her answer. It was not quite the first time she had heard the question, it was just unusual to encounter such dazed incredulity in the asking. She remembered the temperatures on the mountain of forty below, and the avalanching ice, and the risk of cerebral or pulmonary oedema, and the blade-thin ridge that ran up from 16,000 feet with a drop of 2000 feet on either side of it.

      ‘Uh …’

      She also remembered the easy comradeship and the gallows humour of the group of climbers she had done it with – only by the West Buttress route, ‘The Butt’, nothing fancy. Most sharply of all she recalled the hit of euphoria that had wiped everything else from her mind as she hauled herself to the summit.

      ‘Because I thought I would enjoy it,’ she said equably. ‘And I did.’

      Maddie blinked and ran her tongue over her lipstick. ‘Each to her own, I guess.’

      The dancing was starting up. Jeff and Suzy began by spinning slow circles in each other’s arms, to cheers and clapping. Finch sat with the Buckabys for five more minutes, so as not to look as if she wanted to get away from them, then eased herself out of the booth. She ate some sushi from the buffet and had a half-dozen more conversations with people she was pleased to see. After that she danced with Jeff, until Jeff’s father cut in on them. Jim Sutton was a spry seventy-year-old with hands like snow shovels and a seamed brown face from a lifetime’s work in the construction industry. Jeff and Suzy shared the distinction of having travelled a long way from their backgrounds without feeling the need to shake off any of the ties.

      Jim did an enthusiastic lindy-hop that left Finch panting for breath. ‘You’re too much for me,’ she protested.

      ‘C’mon, doc. Gimme one more.’

      Finch could see that it was past 6 p.m. and she had a plane to catch. Dennis Frame, her medical partner, was covering her busy clinics for her and she had already taken three days off.

      ‘Next time.’ She grinned. ‘If I’m lucky.’

      She went in search of Suzy and found her in one of the back booths. She had dribbled what looked like mayo down one Donna lapel and seemed set in for a serious night.

      ‘Hey, you got out of Jim’s clutches with one leap.’

      ‘Baby, I’ve got to go.’

      Suzy frowned. ‘It’s so early. Don’t miss my party.’ It was a routine protest, however. As soon as she had promised to come to the wedding, Finch had warned her that she couldn’t stay long afterwards because she had to work the next day. And Suzy knew of old how exasperatingly rigid her friend could be about time and her professional responsibilities. They were different, but they understood each other and their friendship had rarely faltered.

      Finch said, ‘I know, I know. But I’ve got clinics tomorrow, remember? For Dennis’s sake I can’t take too many more days off before the expedition.’

      Suzy launched herself out of the booth and locked her arms around her friend. Her face turned serious at the last word.

      ‘Listen. I want you to take care. I want you to be safe and to come back down from there in one piece. Who’ll be Sutton Junior’s godmother, if you’re not around?’

      ‘Suze. You’re not?’

      Suzy winked. ‘Not quite yet. But I’m planning on it.’

      ‘Well. That’s great. And I’ll be fine. I’m only the expedition doctor, remember, dosing the d and v, not one of the summit glory boys.’

      ‘Okay, just so long as you remember that. C’mon, I’ll see you off.’

      They weaved their way in and out of the crowd. Suzy stopped short and peeled away towards the bar. ‘Hey, almost forgot.’

      She leaned over behind the counter, exposing the tops of her tanned thighs. Jeff caught her and ran his hands over her hips until Suzy straightened up with what she had been searching for grasped in one hand. ‘Later,’ she admonished him. And she held out her bridal bouquet and stuffed it firmly into Finch’s arms.

      ‘Not me,’ Finch protested. ‘Find someone more deserving. Someone eager for a husband.’

      ‘There is no one else, kid. You are the last remaining authentic unmarried woman. Pretty soon they’re going to slap a heritage order on you.’

      ‘You just want me to join the club. You want me to get married because you’ve gone and done it.’

      Suzy smiled, a lovely hazy smile of pure happiness and contentment. ‘Sure I do.’

      ‘Forget it, pal.’

      They eased their way through the crowd to the door. The party was hotting up, in the way that weddings could do.

      ‘Finch has got to fly home up to Vancouver tonight,’ Suzy explained to the last group.

      ‘Weather’s turned pretty nasty,’ one of Jim Sutton’s cronies observed.

      ‘Finch has seen worse,’ Suzy said proudly.

      Finch put her arm around her. ‘Go on, go back to your guests. I’ll call you. Have a great honeymoon.’

      The newlyweds were going to the Caribbean. Suzy liked beaches.

      They kissed each other.

      ‘Remember what I said. About coming back.’

      ‘I will,’ Finch promised. ‘Be happy, Mrs Sutton.’

      ‘I will,’ she echoed. ‘Thanks for being here, Finch. And for everything else, all the times we’ve had. I love you, you know? Plus you were a ripper bridesmaid.’

      ‘I wouldn’t have missed it. I love you too.’

      She blew a last kiss from the doorway. As soon as she stepped outside, the cold and wind hit Finch like an axe blow. She ducked her head and teetered on high heels to the parking lot where she had left the rental car. The moment she was inside it, with the radio tuned in to some rock station and the heater beginning to do its work, Finch pushed her head hard back against the seat rest and let out a yodel of relief.

      One more wedding.

      She put her foot down and hightailed it for the airport until a twitch from the rear wheels gave warning of how icy the road was. She slowed at once and watched for the glow of tail lamps ahead of her.

      At the airport she nosed the car into one of the Alamo slots and dropped the keys and the paperwork into the box at the closed booth at the end of the lot. The wind had strengthened and there were airborne needles of ice in it. Her thin coat over the pale-blue suit was no protection and there was a long hike to the doors of the departure hall. She dropped her bag and crouched to rummage inside it. From the bottom she pulled out her Gore-tex ski parka and pulled it on with a grunt of relief. She’d brought it with her on her three-day trip to Oregon thinking there might be a chance of some hiking, if not cross-country skiing. As it turned out there had been no time at all, but at least the faithful Patagonia was good for something now. Insulated from her hood

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