The Hike

by Lucy Clarke

If there had been a road to this beach, if they’d stepped out of a car, their pleasure at reaching this place would have been diminished. Joy was the reward that followed a struggle.

“You two still doing your date walks?” Liz nodded. “It’s easier to talk when we’re out of the house. Moving.” She had explained before that date walks were like date nights, except on foot: a bottle of wine shared as they meandered along the banks of the Stour, or a moonlit hike across the hills around their village.