Follow a Stranger

she scolded. “What is there for lunch? I’ll get you

something.”

He protested, but she insisted, and at last he gave in,

and sat down with her to eat the stew she heated over the

little oil-stove. Marc had sent up a number of tins, she

found, as well as eggs, cheese and bread. There was no

reason why Peter should not eat well.

After lunch they resumed work. They continued to work

for the rest of the afternoon, breaking only for a cup of

black coffee at two o’clock, and soon had the whole site

mapped out. Peter crawled around on his knees,

measuring the ground, and Kate carefully marked down

the measurements on his rough sketch map. Then they

noted down all the positions of pillars, fallen stones and

other objects, then measured the pillars, their heights,

breadths, capitals.

Kate’s shoulders and arms were aching. Her eyes kept

blurring and she was hot and weary. But Peter seemed

beyond such ordinary human weakness. Frowning,

absorbed, intent, he worked on as the sun grew warmer,

rose higher and higher, and then began to move down the

sky again.

She glanced at her watch and found, to her relief, that it

was half past three. She wanted to get back down the peak

before Jake arrived, so she said goodbye to Peter, who

answered briefly, hardly realising what she had said, she

suspected.

Kate was glad to see no sign of the car below. Taking a

deep breath, she began to lower herself, clinging to the

grassy outcrops of stone, her fingers clawing fiercely, feet