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tennis being played under lights at the back of our condominium.
    It was time to talk with Barbara. I found her standing in the kitchen, a cookbook open on the counter in front of her, checking the details of a recipe. I slipped my arms around her waist from behind, and being considerably taller, I was able to look over her shoulder. The book was open at a picture of stir-fried Asian greens with cubes of tofu, bright red slivers of capsicum, and slices of strange-looking mushrooms. My head was next to hers and I could smell Givenchy perfume on her neck. I had bought if for her about a year ago, choosing the largest bottle in the range because it came with a free shoulder bag. Barbara had been pleased but had asked if I wanted her to smell the same for the next three years. I didn’t answer at the time—I tickled her instead—but a year down the track the bottle was a third empty; I knew this because she kept it in the fridge door, next to the sports drinks. Silently I sniffed her neck again, and it smelled as good as ever.
    â€œThat was Mike Dillon on the phone,” I said, releasing her from my arms. “In Sydney. He was telling me about a fourteen-year-old Blue Mountains boy who wants to climb Mount Everest.”
    She turned around to listen, engaging me with her spectacular blue eyes, the kind of eyes that stun everyone who sees them.
    â€œFourteen’s very young,” she said.
    â€œYeah, but he’s climbed quite a few mountains, including Mount Cook when he was twelve, and that’s no easy climb.”
    â€œBut still no comparison with Everest.”
    â€œNo.”
    I hesitated. “Mike’s planning to make a doco about it and wants to know whether I am interested in being the high-altitude cameraman.”
    â€œWhen would this happen?”
    â€œNext season, which is April and May next year.”
    â€œAnd you’d like to go, obviously.”
    â€œIf it happens, yeah.”
    I played it down, wanting to get her opinion, uncolored by any enthusiasm I might show.
    Barbara said nothing for a moment, and then, “That would be okay. I know you’re always careful.”
    â€œBut what do you really think?”
    â€œThat you’ll make the right decisions. And I guess I’m happy to support you in achieving a dream you’ve had for such a long time.”
    I kissed her and gave her a big hug. As I pulled away, I said, “It’s only an idea at this stage, so we’ll just see how it pans out.”
    With a touch of a smile she held my eyes, and I could tell she knew I was not as casual about it as I pretended to be. Those extraordinary eyes—I could never escape them. Then she cut me free by turning back to her recipe book.
    I walked out to the balcony that opened off our living room and leaned on the railing next to my sweat-sodden T-shirt. The view at this level was across a wide lawn with huge condominium towers silhouetted by the lights from the freeway across the canal. The blackness between the canal and the freeway signified jungle.
    I thought about the richness of the life in that jungle, and it reminded me of the incredible rainforests of Borneo. A few months earlier we had enjoyed a great family holiday climbing Mount Kinabalu with Margaret Werner, one of our closest friends. Although not a technical climb, Kinabalu is one of the highlights of my thirty-year climbing career, largely because I shared it with my family. Each of them experienced the gamut of feelings that comes with a major climb—initial intimidation, growing confidence, patches of fear on the tricky sections, and the huge feeling of achievement upon reaching the summit.
    Mike’s phone call had triggered some of these emotions in me, so it was not surprising that I should think of my most recent climb. Then my thoughts returned to the mountain of mountains. As I had said to Barbara, the Everest expedition was no more than an idea at this stage, but I had not