Chapter 17
17
ELENA
‘I’m not calling you Pickle.’
‘But we could have cute housemate nicknames. I’d call you Houdini, given the way you keep disappearing,’ Rory said and turned the steering wheel.
Elena had asked if he’d take his car so she could enjoy another rush of them driving with the roof down, her breathing in deeply, not caring about the exhaust fumes in the air. He left the motorway at the approaching junction and followed the signs to Horton Green Park, a thousand-acre, landscaped National Trust estate, forty miles northwest of Manchester. The bungee jump would take place from a bridge, over the Horton Mere, a large lake to the south of the estate. The weather was perfect – no rain, no wind, sun not too bright. Back at the house, Rory had asked her if nerves had set in. But no, she’d whistled louder than the kettle and waved cheerily to Tahoor as they drove past after breakfast. He was out the front in his dressing gown, examining a flattened shrub.
Voice hoarse from singing along to rock music on the car radio, Elena glugged some water as they parked up. Then she and Rory headed for the bottom of some steps at one end of the bridge. She gazed across at the mere, far into the distance. So much open space. Was that what the afterlife was like? One thing was certain: death couldn’t be any more restrictive than her life up to this point.
‘In the financial world, a bungee bet is an investment that appears to go wrong but then bounces back,’ said Rory as they walked over to Tim, who must have been almost six and a half feet tall. ‘Bungee jumping first started as part of a coming-of-age ceremony, on a Pacific Ocean island. Young men would jump from a tree with vines fixed around their ankles.’
Tim walked over and held out his hand. ‘Great to meet you, Elena. I hope Rory hasn’t talked you into this.’ His shaved head was as tanned as his face.
‘As if,’ said Rory.
Tim studied Elena. ‘There’s nothing worse than peer pressure – especially when it’s coming from a partner.’
‘Dude, we’re not dating!’ said Rory and shook his head.
‘We’re just housemates,’ Elena protested.
‘Whatever,’ said Tim and playfully punched Rory’s arm. Elena and Rory rolled their eyes at each other.
She blew on her hands. A mix of excitement and fear, from the other jumpers, spiked the wintry air. Sure, Elena was nervous, but that was proof she was really alive . As advised, she’d dressed in comfortable long trousers and a top, and sports shoes that wouldn’t interfere with the ankle harnesses. Tim explained the process and weighed her, his words not registering. Elena was too hyped about doing the most dare-devil thing in her life – apart from that dive off the top board of the local pool when she was nine, the last adventurous thing she’d done as a child. She hadn’t even checked out Tim’s credentials online. Normally an avid reader of disclaimers, Elena hardly read the paperwork he passed her, simply signing on the dotted line before he’d finished reading everything out.
Elena was the first person to jump. She climbed up onto the bridge with Tim and stared up at the baby blue sky.
‘Are you sure Rory can’t come up here, at the same time, to watch?’ she asked.
Tim shook his head. ‘I allowed a boyfriend up once and after I’d counted down to one, and the woman had committed to jumping, he shouted “No, wait!”, messing around. She dislocated her shoulder by a panicked attempt to grab on to something at the last minute.’
But Rory wouldn’t do that. What a spoilsport this Tim was.
The team asked Elena lots of questions as they fitted the harnesses and rope, no doubt used to having to distract people with last-minute nerves. They needn’t have bothered.
‘Do you want to touch the mere with your hands?’ one of them asked.
‘What?’ asked Elena, who hadn’t really been listening. ‘No – I want my whole head dunked under the surface! Let’s really go for it!’
She shuffled onto a wooden platform that stuck out from the bridge. Tim went on and on, explaining how to jump. Yadda, yadda.
He began to count, reminding her to focus on the horizon, and to launch herself outwards, not down. Five, four, three… Boring! Elena didn’t wait for him to finish. Instead of holding them out, she pressed her arms against her sides and nose-dived straight down, like a bullet.
Sunlight sparkled on the water below like flashing cameras, as if paparazzi were capturing a newsworthy story. Falling, falling, an unstable sensation, nothing like flying, no control over the direction, stomach lurching, whoa, the speed, hair flapping, water approaching, no time for jubilation, then smack! Down under the freezing cold water before… whoosh, being pulled back upwards, gulping for air, trying to focus. Blinking. Dripping. Swinging. Shrieking with euphoria. She’d done it! Like an uncontrollable pendant, she swung in the air and an engine sounded beneath her. The bouncing slowed and she was lowered unceremoniously into the motorboat. A woman pulled her in and removed Elena’s equipment.
By the time they arrived back at the bridge, Elena shook from head to toe, as if her body couldn’t process the large amount of adrenaline that it had never experienced in nineteen years. Her body was high. High on life. High on a drug she’d avoided for so long, a free hit Mother Nature handed out. Who needed booze and weed?
‘Oh my God, that was amazing!’ she said to Tim, who stood, arms folded, next to Rory, who looked serious. ‘Can I go again?’
‘Sorry, but no way,’ Tim said stiffly. ‘The format of the jump is very important. Going outwards, with your arms stretched horizontally, makes the deceleration smooth and the bounce back kinder. You shouldn’t just drop like a stone.’
‘But I’m okay!’
Tim shook his head and Rory followed him up to the bridge, doing the jump exactly as Tim had advised. Elena whistled and shouted, punching the air when he got back to her.
‘That was incredible!’ she said.
‘Let’s just get back to the car,’ he muttered.
‘What’s wrong?’
Rory ran a hand through his curly hair, the yellow of his hooded puffer jacket much brighter than his expression. ‘Tim’s not happy, Elena, and he was doing us a favour, fitting us in at such short notice. As well as ignoring his advice, you hardly listened to the disclaimer. Tim said he had to repeat it. ’
It was like living in a parallel universe, where everyone else was more safety-conscious than her. ‘I took on board the basics!’
Rory didn’t reply, and Elena also went quiet as they walked back to the car. Why wasn’t he being more supportive? The sky had clouded over by the time they got in and put their seat belts on, raindrops pelting down. Rory took out his keys.
‘Any extreme sport has to be taken seriously,’ he muttered. ‘It would also be Tim in the shit if something went wrong. There aren’t many deaths in the bungee jumping world, but they happen, like last year, in Scotland, a bit close to home. A man mistook a hand signal and jumped before the cord was attached properly. That’s aside from the possible injuries, listed in that disclaimer and that I’d told you about, like eye problems, shoulder and spine issues, and…’
But she’d only gone a couple of seconds early, and obviously an aerodynamic shape was best, if you wanted to go fast. What a big fuss about nothing. Although she wouldn’t have wanted to get Tim in trouble. Nor Rory.
Elena’s ears felt hot.
‘Sorry. Really sorry,’ she said as they sat at traffic lights. ‘It was selfish of me. I acted like a complete idiot. Please pass on my apologies to Tim.’
‘It’s only because Tim cares,’ Rory said, the tension disappearing from his voice. ‘What’s more, who’s going to create a bigger home for Brandy and Snap if you aren’t around?’
‘How did you know about that?’
‘They told me. Put me right, in fact – said it hadn’t taken a fellow female long to work out what they really needed.’
Her face broke into a smile.
‘You were talking about it the other night,’ he said. ‘I came down for a glass of water and you’d just told them you’d finished that book you were binge-reading. ’
One from the Game of Thrones series. The books were much better than the TV show. Arya Stark – now that was one fearless woman.
‘Do you mind? About a bigger tank?’
‘It’s a great idea.’ The lights changed and he pushed down the accelerator pedal. ‘So… you’d jump again?’
‘One hundred per cent. I loved every minute. Skydiving next. Can you arrange that?’
‘You’re sure?’ They’d stopped at a junction and he gave her a surprised look. ‘It’s just lately… You are okay, aren’t you, Elena?’
‘Rory! Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? Look, maybe I got a bit carried away at Horton Green Park. I’ll stick, 1,000 per cent, to all the skydiving rules, however small. I’m honestly very sorry about today.’
They chatted about his skydiving experiences on the way back to Cariswell. Rory turned onto her drive and parked up. ‘That all gives you an idea of what it’s like. How about we cosy up over coffee and biscuits, and I tell you more about the local club I go to. Let’s also research stick insect living spaces and?—’
‘Can’t, I’m afraid.’ She beamed. ‘I’ve got to get ready for a date tonight.’
Rory stared at the garage door ahead. ‘Cool. Going out for food?’
‘He said he knew a good place and I’m just waiting for him to text. It’s a bit of a rushed arrangement.’
Rory waved to Tahoor, who was at his window, and followed Elena inside as the rain became even heavier. ‘I expect you’ve told Brandy and Snap all about him, before me.’
‘Not much chance of that. I’ve never met him before. In fact, we’ve not even spoken. I only loaded my profile onto the dating app yesterday. We matched this morning. ’
Rory stopped taking off his jacket, drips of rain falling onto the hallway’s floor. ‘You haven’t got to know him a bit first?’
Elena threw down her keys on the kitchen unit. She flicked on the heating and filled the kettle with water. ‘Rory. Next you’ll be doing the moonwalk and telling me about the eighties.’
‘Seriously though…’ he said, walking into the kitchen. ‘What does he do?’
She shrugged, having skipped his details in the spirit of being adventurous. ‘Does it matter? He looks nice and gives good emoji.’
Rory put a hand on the backrest of one of the grey velvet breakfast bar chairs. ‘Do you know anything about him at all?’
‘He was prepared to meet me tonight. That’s enough.’
‘But—’
Don’t question me. Not now that I’ve finally found my zest for tasting the life everyone else has been drinking all this time . ‘I don’t have to justify myself, Rory Bunker. It’s a bit of fun, not an extreme sport with fixed procedures and disclaimers. Why are you making a big deal of it?’
He bit his lip. ‘Taking on Brandy and Snap must be bringing out my paternal instincts.’ He gave a small smile. ‘Right. Might head over to Dad’s early, better get changed. We’re playing board games.’
‘What do you usually play? I love Monopoly. Or there’s Cluedo.’
‘Risk,’ he said and gave her a pointed look before pulling down his puffer jacket hood and climbing the stairs, two at a time.
Hot tears filled her eyes; she wasn’t sure why. Fuck judgemental Rory. He hadn’t lived the last nineteen years like a convict, punished for making a kind-hearted deal, imprisoned within walls that no one else could see. And if she was a man, he wouldn’t have said a thing. Her phone beeped and she read the message, ignoring more than ten from her parents who were no doubt checking in with her after the bungee jump that they’d clearly been worried about.
Hey Elena! I’ve managed to book a restaurant in the Northern Quarter, near where I live. The chef is a mate and has fitted us in. Details below. See you at 8! Carl
The words were followed by a row of emojis – the dancing man, dancing woman, flames, drinks, a knife and fork, a kissing face.
Elena stared at the message. Tomorrow was the last day of November, and then it was her birthday month. She pursed her lips and typed.
See you then!