OVARY

It was dark as the car from Arusha pulled into the camp and Lilly was dismayed to discover that she was the last one to arrive. She was more dismayed to see that all of the other climbers were men and what’s worse, twenty-something men standing about in a circle, legs spread, beer cans in hand. She had been hoping for at least one other woman. As soon as she appeared Wilbert came towards her, taking both her hands before shouldering her pack as if it were filled with feathers. This made her feel much better.

‘Are you alright if I drop your bag in your tent Lilly? We’re about to eat and also we are discussing plans for tomorrow,’ said Wilbert, who she had met in town when she paid for the trek. ‘We’ll be leaving at 6am.’

At dinner hardly any of the other climbers spoke to her, apart from Calum, who asked her why she was doing the climb and she responded with, oh, a bucket list thing, not wanting to get into it. So she just ate and tried to stay calm at the thought of the next nine days.

Day one was fine, still hot and sweaty as the climb meandered through the rainforest. Lilly kept up easily and the other climbers started treating her with casual respect. Day two dawned bright and clear, with an unimpeded view of the peak of Kilimanjaro. Day 3 took them to the snow line and day 4 was an acclimatisation day, going to altitude before returning to the lower camp. Lilly had felt a dull ache in her side all day but it was worse after sitting in the snow for a while having a hot drink, and as the group stood ready to start the descent, Calum started to say, oh Lilly, there’s blood, before stopping mid sentence in embarrassment. Damn you ovaries, she thought, realising that the wetness of her down trousers wasn’t from the snow.