VIVIENNE PINK GOT up in the dark. Her hiking clothes were draped over a chair, prepared. She put on wool leggings, two pairs of wool socks, a long-sleeved navy-and-white striped nautical jersey, her olive green pants and a bright orange boiled wool jacket she zipped to its high neck. Johnny was dead to the world in the double bed closest to the door. Val was asleep in the one nearer the loo. Vivienne slipped her feet into walking shoes, fastened their Velcro orange straps and opened the door. The dark was a form of quiet. She could feel starlight sharpen as it began to die out. She turned left, walked down the walkway, turned left and took the hillside dip to the reception office, shining in the darkness. It was freezing out. Vivienne pulled the slim black silk glove liners out of her jack
