Page 12 of A Not So Quiet Christmas
Chapter 9
With my cheek squashed against the icy rock face, I clung to the mountainside like a limpet as if my life depended on it. I didn’t know who or what howled the loudest – me or the swirling winds that whipped around my already contorted face. As the gusts threatened to rip me from what little security I had, flying without wings was not how I’d imagined my final moments. “Tell Jules I’m sorry for ruining her Christmas,” I said while I still had the chance, voice raised and mid-wail.
“I’m the one who’s sorry, Antonia,” Oliver said, calling up from the ledge below. “If I’d have known your legs weren’t long enough…”
“I know, I know. Hindsight’s a wonderful thing!”
“Are you sure you can’t go any higher? There can’t be much more than a metre left.”
“If I could, don’t you think I’d be up by now?” Peeling my cheek off the rock, I carefully glanced about me. Double-checking all the nearby indents and protruding rocks, it was no good. They were all out of my reach. I tilted my chin and looked down to see Oliver’s concerned expression and Frank’s head poking out of the man’s rucksack. As tears rolled down my face, I couldn’t believe Oliver had suggested I go first. The other way around and he could have shimmied up with Frank, then reached down and yanked me the rest of the way.
I also couldn’t believe my foolishness. It might’ve only been a small section of our walk as far as Oliver was concerned, but he was used to it. He’d been going up and down Fotherghyll Fell since he was a child. I, on the other hand, was from London. In the city, if people wanted to enjoy the view, they rode on the London Eye or took a lift and dined in a high-rise restaurant. They didn’t scale mountains. No wonder I was stuck.
“You’re doing great,” Oliver said.
Considering my predicament, it was going to take a lot more than platitudes to lift my spirits. Ice seeped through my gloves and my hands felt numb. My lips quivered uncontrollably, and as I continued to battle the wind, I felt so cold my legs began to shake. My heart raced. Not sure how much longer I could hold on, I was convinced I was about to fall to my death.
“Help will be here soon. I promise.”
More tears rolled down my face. Mountain rescue… Like I hadn’t lost enough dignity.
Forced to hang there for I didn’t know how long, Oliver continued to try to reassure me, but with my energy levels dwindling, it was to no avail.
“Tell Jules I’ll need a closed coffin,” I said. No longer able to discern how tight my grip was, I wagered it wouldn’t be too long until I fell.
“Please, Antonia,” Oliver replied, his voice concerned. “That’s no way to talk.”
“What? You’re going to catch me on my way down, are you?” Full of self-pity, I knew I sounded like a stroppy teenager, but I couldn’t help myself.
“There won’t be any need for that,” a voice from above said.
My gaze shot up to see three men in bright red waterproofs and yellow safety helmets. Although as far as I was concerned, they weren’t wearing helmets at all; they wore halos. They carried coils of orange rope, one of which they seemed to be pegging into the crag.
“Don’t worry,” Man Number Two said. “We’ll soon have you down safe and sound.”
I heard more voices coming from below and daring to look their way, I saw that two more red-clothed and yellow-hatted individuals had arrived. “I can’t believe this is happening,” I said, once again wishing I was anywhere but there. I closed my eyes and thanks to the shame of it all, felt tempted to just throw myself off the mountain to get it over with. At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with any ridicule. “Ouch!” My eyes opened as something hit me on the head. Brought back to my senses, I squinted as I looked up to check I wasn’t in harm’s way.
“Just a loose chipping,” the third of the upper trio said. Ready to start his descent, Man Number Three’s colleagues paid out his rope through the lowering system they’d rigged, so he could gradually let himself down towards me. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Easy for you to say!” I replied.
At last, he drew level. “Antonia?”
I nodded.
“So you’re the woman I’ve been hearing all about.”
“Sorry?”
“You can call me Barrowboy. Now, let’s get you down to safer ground.” Straight to business, he unclipped a helmet from his waist, put it on my head and fastened it. “Next, we need to get this sorted.” He produced a harness.
My eyes widened in horror. With all the will in the world, no way could I have let go to put it on.
“Don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything.” He shook his head, as if already exasperated. “I can manage.” He gestured to my midriff. “May I?” While I continued to cling on for dear life, Barrowboy began fiddling around my waist and nether regions to secure the harness in place. Pulling at it this way and then that to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere, he attached a rope to make sure I wasn’t either.
“Am I safe now?” I asked, my voice weak. Goodness knew what the man thought. Even to my own ears I suddenly sounded like a five-year-old.
“Almost. Just one more thing to do and we’re good to go.” He manoeuvred himself to my rear and strapped the two of us together. “You ready?” he said.
