Brenda Monk Is Funny by Katy Brand Read Free Book Online

flats with no soul.
    Brenda walked on. By now she had some inkling that she was heading towards Arthur’s Seat. She saw the Scottish Parliament building and knew that a curl round it to the right would lead her to the start of the path and the ascent to the top. She smiled. Why had she brought herself here? Interesting. Was she going to climb it? She still didn’t know, but she had a strong feeling she might. She tried to admire the Assembly Building but her heart wasn’t in it. She could see now that the sky behind Arthur’s Seat was clear and coming her way. By the time she got to the top, the bad weather would be gone and the view spectacular. She breathed in deeply. She saw the start of the path. She knew from the accounts of others that there was an easy climb and a hard climb – you could stop half-way up and still get the view. She thought that if she got to that point and wanted to stop she would allow herself to feel some small sense of achievement before descending. And so, by tiny increments, she began to climb. The path was easy and shallow at first, and was nothing more than a light Sunday afternoon walk. Brenda kept a decent pace and reaching the half-way mark was no hardship. She knew she wasn’t stopping – she barely paused to look. If Brenda was going to climb Arthur’s Seat, she was going to do it properly, otherwise she wouldn’t have started. She may have given herself the illusion of a get out, but the first step up meant that every step would be taken until there was nothing left to do but fly.
    After the half-way point, which was heavily populated, the path got steeper and harder and Brenda became more aware of her inadequate footwear. The light breeze from the road was now a stiff wind and she was thirsty with nothing to drink. She had no intention of turning back, though. Up she climbed, up, and when the path became more vertical, Brenda breathed harder and deeper, life filling her lungs and nature healing her mind. She felt the vultures that had been threatening her since she awoke flap their great wings and soar away, in search of another carcass – god knows they wouldn’t go hungry in this city in this month. Brenda paused to catch her breath – the blood was pumping hard now, pink in her cheeks and burning in her chest. She wondered if she wished Jonathan was here, and found that she didn’t. She was sated, and it hadn’t taken much – just one night of premier league shagging and she could feel clearly again. She could see the end now, peaking above her. Another ten minutes and she’d be there, looking out over everything.
    Push, push, push and stop. Stop, and stare. Stand, and stare.
    The view was better than she had imagined, and the stark and abrupt end to the city that she had observed from the bridge below the day before was now writ large. She turned so that Edinburgh was behind her, and looked across to the Firth of Forth, its huge red iron bridge stretching out, trenchant, commanding, secure. The water was a steely blue with the surrounding countryside scrub green broken with stripes and rounds of rust coloured thorny undergrowth. Some clouds scudded high and made rippling shadows on the ground below. Brenda was exhilarated, cold air caught in her nostrils as she pulled a breath in hard and then pushed it out through her wide open mouth. She felt good. She felt healthy. Yes, healthy, inside and out, as if a great knot had been untwisted and now she could grab the ends and hold onto them, tying herself securely to her own mountain, attached and stable and grounded. She checked her watch. 3.45. Shit.
    Brenda took one last look, drinking it in, trying to fill her batteries for later, knowing somehow that this would keep her going and prepare her for something she could not yet articulate. Then she turned and strode back down the mountain. She couldn’t help but smile to herself, even though with every step misgivings about the rest of the day rose in her stomach.
    By the