Chapter 14
14
FIVE DAYS BEFORE HE LEFT ME
Kit grins at me, then continues his progress through the small nook until all I can see are the soles of his boots. Panic sets in as he disappears. What if, rather than slowing down time, rather than having this gift of this week with him, I’ve just accelerated everything? What if there’s a sheer drop at the other side?
‘Kit!’ I shout, getting on my knees and combat crawling my way towards him. ‘Kit!’ I shout again. Shit. I still have my backpack on. I shrug it off and force it through the hole. The bag is pulled forwards, and Kit’s face – grinning, excited – peers through.
‘Come on! You’ve got to see this.’
I creep forwards. The space is tight. I can feel the pressure of the rocks weighing down on my body as I shuffle through, my elbows sore, my knees prodding against rocks and pebbles.
I blink as I emerge to see Kit staring out over the sea. The ledge is small, a horseshoe of grass the size of two parking spaces. His hands are outstretched as if welcoming the sky. He smiles at me, then back to the view. I join him, my heart still somewhere in my throat, the veins in my neck pulsing. He puts his arm around me and nods downwards. Below is a small cove, a private beach only accessible by a descent down these rocks or by sea; above us, sheer cliff face. This space is hidden.
We didn’t find it.
We didn’t search this small outlet, this secret cove.
I look down at the rocks that jut out a few metres in the sea. The cove would have been hard to reach by lifeboat, especially in the weather conditions that followed the week after he disappeared. Did he come here that day? I shake my head; the couple that provided witness statements said they’d seen him attaching a rig, but it wasn’t here, it was five miles further up the coast.
Kit looks to the sky, out to the ocean. He’s assessing the weather, the tides, the wind strength.
‘If we drop now, we should have time. We’ve got a couple of hours until the tide turns.’
‘Have time for what?’ I ask, but I recognise the glint in his eyes.
‘It’s a surprise.’ He winks.
I look back out to sea. It’s not high tide yet and still the waves lick the rocks below. My eyes travel downwards.
He bends down and begins unravelling his rope.
‘Have you done this drop before?’ I ask, my voice high.
‘Once or twice,’ he replies, his focus on the ropes, on his hooks, harnesses.
‘You’ve never said.’
‘I haven’t? Huh. I thought I’d mentioned it.’
Had he? Maybe he had, but wouldn’t I have remembered? Then again, back then – now – Kit was always finding special places, hidden gems. That’s what he would say: I found this hidden gem.
Kit smiles, hands working the ropes, hair tousled. ‘You all right? ’
‘Yeah,’ I say, trying to settle the thoughts battering around me.
We step into our harnesses. Kit sets up the rig, throws down the ropes.
He goes ahead, checking over the side of the cliff then gives the ropes a tug to double-check. I watch the tops of his fingers digging into the rocks, feet finding secure footing. I follow his movements, the harness tight around my chest, the ropes rough but firm in my hands. He’s careful, checking his hold on the rock before dropping his feet to the next foothold.
My body is strong enough to keep up with him, but even so, I feel the familiar burn in my thighs.
We begin our descent. I haven’t done this since he left, but my body knows what to do. Kit moves quickly, while I take my time, letting my mind focus, recalling all the things I know.
My body wants to continue, but the version of me trapped inside the body of a woman I no longer am stops still. I hear the whoosh of Kit’s rope, the sound of his walking boots against the rock, the seagulls, the crash of the waves below. A rash of fear rises up from the soles of my feet to the top of my scalp. This is too fraught, too edged with danger, with risk, with all the things that could go wrong. My feet are firm against the rock face. Kit descends quickly. He bounces out and back in with ease, a look of concentration on his face. He hits the ground, looking up at me with a grin, but I’m frozen to the spot.
‘You good?’ he shouts up as he unhooks his harness.
‘Yeah, just… give me a minute.’
My legs have turned to jelly; they’re shaking beneath my clothing. The ropes in my hand feel like they’re on fire and, at any moment, I’m going to have to let go.
‘Just jump!’ he shouts, hand covering his eyes as he looks up at me.
‘I… I can’t! ’
I can’t move. My head is spinning.
‘Hold on!’
‘Funny!’ I manage to squeak out. All my memories of Kit’s death are crawling over me, the thousand ways he could have died, the images of his body broken, battered by the cliffs as he free-falls, his face withering at the bottom of a crevasse, his mouth gulping down seawater. The images twist and turn.
‘It’s OK.’ Kit is next to me. ‘I’ve got you.’ He bounces over so he’s next to me. I can feel him unhooking his harness.
‘Don’t!’ I yelp.
‘I’m going to clip you to me and we’ll do it together, OK? You’re fine. You’ll be eating fish and chips before you know it.’
We’re face to face now, my hand holding tightly to his neck as we begin to descend, Kit talking me through, telling me when to move, as he manipulates the rope.
We land with a gentle thud. Kit unbuckles us and he pulls me into his arms. I’ve scratched his neck, three lines like he’s been Freddy Kruegered.
‘I’ve scratched your neck.’ His fingers run over the grooves in his skin. ‘It’s not the first time you’ve scratched me and I certainly hope it’s not the last.’ He’s making light, but I can feel his heart pounding against my cheek as he pulls me close.
We’re safe; I’m safe: he’s still here.
But for how long?