by T A Williams
The journey to the top didn’t take too long and the views were truly lovely, or at least, they would have been if she had dared do more than cast an occasional glance downwards. Although they were often little more then ten or twenty feet from the ground, from time to time the distance below them and the rocky hillside increased dramatically as they passed over cliffs or rocky gorges. She shut her eyes on those occasions and concentrated on her other senses, principally the feel and scent of Miles beside her. In spite of the circumstances, there was no doubt about it; to her amazement, this crazy trip in a birdcage was turning her on. From time to time she squinted out of half-closed eyes at Miles, but was unable to judge whether it was having a similar effect upon him. She did the whole trip in a semi-erotic daze and was genuinely surprised when he announced they had reached the top.
‘Get ready to jump out, Sarah. These things don’t stop for anyone.’ She opened her eyes and saw that they had indeed reached their destination. A more cheerful-looking attendant than his counterpart down in the town opened the door to their basket and she felt Miles’s strong hands on her shoulders as she jumped out, closely followed by him.
‘That wasn’t so bad, now was it?’ He was smiling as he led her out of the cable car station and onto a rocky track following signs pointing upwards towards the Basilica di Sant’Ubaldo. For her part, her knees felt like jelly and she couldn’t be sure whether that was caused by her fear of heights or raw passion. Either way, it took her a little while to regain full use of her legs and, indeed, her other faculties.
‘What a view.’ Miles sounded impressed.
For the first time since getting into the birdcage, Sarah opened her eyes fully and took a good look at the view. Two things were immediately obvious. It was indeed a magnificent view of the town and the surrounding countryside, and it was also a hell of a long way down a steep hillside, far steeper than she had realised. She surreptitiously moved a bit further over so that her shoulder was almost rubbing the rocky wall at the side of the path, determined to keep as far away from the edge as possible.
They spent over half an hour up there, visiting the last resting place of Saint Ubaldo. The basilica contained the rather unappealing mummified remains of the twelfth-century saint, laid out in a glass case on top of a stone slab. The Renaissance basilica itself, with its fine cloisters, was well worth the visit, but it was the view that stole the show. Sitting safely away from the edge on a wooden bench, Sarah was able to track the route they would be following the next day, heading southwest into yet more hills. By now she felt quite confident that all her little brood would be able to handle the climbs ahead of them and she was sure it would prove to be another great day. The only question mark was over the weather. For the first time this week, a hefty bank of clouds was building up over the western horizon and the setting sun was already a sinister orange colour. Sarah made a mental note to listen to the forecast when she got back to the hotel. She turned to Miles, who was sitting quietly beside her.
‘Tomorrow we’re going through Assisi. That was the birthplace of another saint.’
Miles nodded. ‘But Saint Francis is really big here in Gubbio as well, you know. Have you heard about him and the wolf?’ Sarah shook her head and he went on to recount the story of how Saint Francis allegedly tamed and made friends with a man-eating wolf there in Gubbio. Sarah remembered Miles’s werewolf gibe from the night before and gave a more or less convincing growl and bared her teeth, threatening to bite him on the neck. Underneath the joking, she rather liked the idea of doing things to his neck, but, as always, he appeared oblivious to the innuendo and just carried on with his tale. When he had finished, she refrained from any further tomfoolery and asked him about his obvious interest in history. His reply surprised her.
‘To be totally honest, I’m really a frustrated historian. I didn’t want to come into the family business, you know.’ Sarah didn’t know. In fact, she had assumed he had always been groomed to take over from his father. ‘I did history at university and then an MA in medieval history. I would have loved to go on and do my PhD, then maybe find myself a lecturing job somewhere.’
‘So what stopped you?’
He hesitated. ‘A sense of responsibility to my dad, really.’ He was really keen for the firm to carry on as a family business and it was pretty clear by then that Paul wasn’t cut out for that sort of thing.’
‘Are you so sure about that now, Miles? It strikes me he could do a really good job.’
Miles nodded absently. ‘Yes, maybe now. I don’t know. The fact is, way back then, he was barely out of his teens and pretty much running wild, so I knew it had to be me. Besides, by then, I had a wife to support.’
Sarah suddenly woke up.
She had never heard of Miles having a wife. Nobody had so much as hinted at it. This certainly explained his lack of interest in her as anything other than a colleague. In a matter of seconds, her happy mood was torpedoed and her spirits plunged more steeply downhill than Gubbio’s birdcage lift. Now feeling quite disconsolate, she did her best not to show it as she summoned as normal a voice as possible.
‘So, no Professor Hall?’
He shook his head, his eyes still far away. ‘Nope. But I’m still really interested in history. For me, coming to an area like this that’s just steeped in medieval history is a dream come true. I’ve been reading up about the places we’re visiting on this trip and it’s been bringing it all back to me.’
Sarah would dearly have liked to find out more about his wife, but she stayed silent. This was, after all, the very first time he had mentioned her so it was pretty clear he didn’t want to talk about her. Maybe, Sarah suddenly thought to herself, there was a messy divorce in progress. That might account for at least some of his interminable telephone calls. The idea that he might not be married after all suddenly restored some hope to her and she realised with a start just how disappointed she had felt at his mention of his wife. She tried to analyse her feelings, but it was all getting far too complicated. For somebody who had come on this trip determined not to get into any further romantic entanglements, this reaction was puzzling, very puzzling.
‘So, do we walk down or take the lift?’ His voice roused her from her thoughts. She glanced across and saw that he was now looking at her again. ‘Take the lift? We did buy return tickets after all.’
Sarah looked up at the clear blue sky. It was almost six o’clock now, but the temperature was still very high. ‘Let’s take the cage.’ Her decision, she told herself firmly, was purely so as to save a lot of effort walking two kilometres down the mountain in the hot sunshine. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that she would have to squeeze up against his gorgeous body for another ten minutes. Nothing at all.
The trip back down again on the lift didn’t go to plan.
First, there was the question of their positions in the basket. She jumped in first, with Miles right behind her, but this time, instead of finding herself neatly pressed up against the side of his chest, she ended up against the rail, facing out into the void, with Miles invisible behind her. All she could feel was an occasional touch of his chest against her back. Her pragmatic self told her this was probably no bad thing, seeing as she had just discovered he was a married man, but it would have been comforting all the same. Unfortunately, this position now meant that, as the basket bumped over the pulley wheels of the first pylon and dropped downwards, she suddenly felt a wave of vertigo assail her. She screwed her eyes shut, desperately trying not to squeal.
‘How’re you doing?’ She heard his voice by her ear and felt the warmth of his breath. This, instead of calming her, only served to throw her into more internal disarray. She was just swallowing hard before attempting a response, when things suddenly got a whole lot worse. Without warning, the lift suddenly stopped, completely. The baskets swung wildly for a few seconds as a result and this time Sarah really did squeal. She felt a comforting hand on her shoulder and Miles’s voice again. ‘Don’t worry, it’s prob
ably just somebody’s got caught up either trying to get in or get out of a basket. It’ll start up again in a moment. You’ll see.’
But it didn’t.
They hung like that for several minutes, only Miles’s hand on her shoulder preventing Sarah from being totally submerged by the wave of fear that had overtaken her. She risked a quick glance through half-closed eyes and saw to her horror that their cage had come to a halt directly over a deep ravine, where they were a considerable distance from the rocky hillside below. If they fell from here, Sarah found her brain shrieking at her, there would be no chance of survival. They would be smashed to pieces on the rocks. She felt her knees turn to jelly.
‘Attenzione, attenzione.’ Sarah jumped as if she had been stung. The voice was coming from a loudspeaker attached to the next pylon and it shook her out of her spiral of despair, at least for a moment. The voice went on to explain that a temporary electrical fault would mean a brief delay. There was no danger. They should not worry and they should all try to conserve their sangue freddo.
‘I’ve always thought it suspicious that we don’t have an expression for sang froid in English. Maybe that’s because we Brits have all got it in our DNA already.’
Even through her terror, Sarah could hear that Miles was doing his best to lighten the mood and she loved him for it. She felt his other hand land on her other shoulder and a gentle pressure.
‘You doing all right?’
She didn’t feel confident enough to speak, so she just stood there stiffly and shook her head. He must have realised what sort of state she was in because she felt the pressure on her shoulders increase as he slowly began the process of turning her round towards him. Partway through the operation, she felt one of his hands leave her shoulder and reach for her fingers. Only then did she realise that she was gripping the steel rail so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Very gently he helped her to release first one and then the other hand until he was able to turn her round completely so she was facing him. All this was accomplished by Sarah with her eyes screwed tightly shut. At last she felt his arms encircle her and hold her tightly. She stood there rigid for another few seconds and then literally collapsed against his chest, grabbing him round the waist and hanging on.
‘It’s all right, Sarah. It’ll just be a few minutes, you’ll see.’ His voice was soothing, his embrace comforting. One arm held her securely around the waist, while his other hand gently stroked her hair as she pressed her face against his chest and held on to him as if her life depended on it. Gradually she began to feel the wave of fear retreat and the dizziness in her head begin to stabilise. She still didn’t risk opening her eyes, but managed to find her voice.
‘I’m so sorry, Miles. I’m so sorry.’ It was her voice, but she didn’t recognise it. It was little more than a croak.
His encircling arms didn’t relax for a moment. ‘Don’t be silly. There’s nothing to apologise for. Now, why don’t you talk to me? Tell me something to help pass the time? I’m sure we won’t be here for too long.’ There was a long pause while her mind went totally blank. Then she heard his voice again. ‘All right, why don’t I get you started? Here’s a question for you. Where were you born?’
‘Guildford.’ It still sounded like ET’s voice, but he heard and understood.
‘And how long ago?’
‘Thirty years. I’m thirty.’ She cleared her throat and, with it, a bit of her brain. ‘How old are you?’
‘Thirty-eight, but I look older, don’t I?’
She shook her head against his chest, but he was right. She had always thought of him as over forty.
‘Where do your parents live? Still in Guildford?’ She nodded. ‘Got any sisters, brothers?’
‘Two brothers and one sister. The boys are in London and my sister and her husband live just outside Manchester.’
‘And you, are you married?’
To her considerable surprise, Sarah didn’t break down in tears. Maybe it was because her emotions had been so totally drained by the vertigo, but she found she was able to reply quite calmly and factually. ‘No. I was supposed to be getting married two weeks ago, but it didn’t happen.’
‘Didn’t happen?’ She could hear the perplexity in his voice.
‘He decided he wanted to have new experiences and meet other women.’
‘Your fiancé said that? When did he tell you?’ She could hear real interest in his voice now. So, a bit at a time, with frequent pauses, she told him the whole sad story. All the while she could feel his arms holding her in a tight, protective grip and it felt really, really good. The sensation of cold dread that had invaded her as the cable car stopped gradually left her, and she felt the warmth of his body against hers, comforting and even, maybe, stimulating. As she reached the end of her story, he made only one comment, which, days later, she still found herself turning over in her head.
‘The man must be out of his mind.’
Sarah was prevented from responding by a sudden jolt that made her heart leap and brought a squeal to her lips. The lift had started up again and the cages were once more heading smoothly down into the valley. She had gripped him even more tightly as they started to move and now she gradually released her hold on him, but not entirely, as the journey progressed. From her cosy, comfortable position, resting against him, his whole body warming hers, she found the courage to ask a question of her own.
‘And you, Miles, what about your wife? Have you been married long?’ For a few seconds his whole body tensed and she felt him take a deep breath.
‘We got married just over eleven years ago.’ There was a moment’s hesitation. ‘She died almost two years ago.’ His voice was almost devoid of emotion, but his body gave him away. She felt a slight judder run through him as he caught his breath before explaining. ‘She was Italian, from Rome. We met when I was living over here.’
‘I’m so sorry, Miles. What was it?’
‘Cancer, breast cancer. That’s why I was so keen for us to get involved with these charity events. We were already living in New York when it was first diagnosed.’
‘How terrible for her, and for you. Have you got children?’ She felt him shake his head. She just squeezed him harder and offered a few more words of sympathy. ‘How awful for you.’
‘It was, Sarah.’ His voice was level again now. ‘But sooner or later I’ll get over it. I have to.’ She recognised the same words she had used to Melissa in her office on her first day back at work and would have made a comment, but they had reached the end of their journey. He roused himself from his thoughts. ‘Here, we’re coming in to land. Are you going to be all right to climb out?’ Sarah opened her eyes for the first time in twenty minutes and blinked, trying hard to focus. The lift station was less than thirty yards away. They had made it down safely in spite of all her doubts and fears, and an overwhelming sensation of relief swept over her.
‘Thank you, Miles. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’ She felt a momentary tightening of his hold on her before he straightened up and released her.
The cage swept down to the concrete platform where the impassive lift operator opened the door and helped her out, closely followed by Miles. For the second time that afternoon, her knees turned to jelly and she tottered weakly away. Seconds later, she felt Miles’s hand on her arm, pulling her towards him until he could stretch his arm around her waist and support her as they walked out through the turnstile into the evening sun. He turned his head towards her.
‘I don’t know about you, but I could do with a drink.’
Sarah nodded. ‘That sounds like an excellent idea. I think I should be able to walk unassisted now, Miles.’ Reluctantly, she disengaged herself from his supporting arm and walked along beside him, back down the hill to the Roman gate. As they walked, she did her best to regain her sangue freddo and, at the same time, tried to come to terms with the fact that, although her feelings for this kind, sweet man were stronger than ever, it was pretty clear his heart still be
longed to his poor dead wife. Clearly, he wasn’t in the market for another relationship and she could well understand why. A sense of loss, as acute as the feeling she had got from reading James’s letter, descended upon her and she would have cried, except that her emotions had taken such a hammering over the past half hour, she knew it was a physical impossibility, at least for now.
She gradually pulled herself together as they walked back into the town, and by the time they found a café in the shade she had her feelings under control once again. More or less. They sat down together and, without hesitation, Miles ordered two glasses of cognac. Sarah ordered a mineral water as well and settled down to rest and recuperate after her ordeal on the basket lift. They sat for the most part in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. It came as no surprise to her to find her mind monopolised by thoughts of Miles, rather than by memories of her escape from death in a metal birdcage. Being held and comforted so sensitively by him had felt so very good and so very right, but then, in an instant, any developing intimacy had been snatched away as he had told her about the tragedy in his life. She felt like the donkey who sees the carrot dangled in front of his nose, only for it to remain stubbornly out of reach. As they sat there watching the sun go down, sipping their drinks and nibbling the peanuts the waiter had brought, Sarah’s mind remained firmly fixed on Miles and how the loss of his wife had hit him.