Things began to happen so quickly then that they merged into a jumbled kaleidoscope of terror when there was no time to think, only to react to the primitive urge for self-preservation. Cassie remembered the mist clearing for a brief second and seeing the sea below them, but close, only a few yards away.
Someone shouted and the helicopter rose again, but then it banked sharply, throwing her violently back in her seat. The woman began to scream shrilly, but Cassie could only stare in appalled horror as she saw a wall of rock appear in front of them, rising out of sight above them.
The pilot did something to the controls that made the aircraft turn violently to the right, throwing them about so that the man beside her was jerked almost out of his seat and was half lying on her. Cassie's stomach came up into her throat and for a few seconds she could hardly breathe, felt as if she was going to suffocate. She put up feeble hands to try and push the man off, but suddenly they were the right way up again and the helicopter was going down. It met the ground with a terrific bump, then tilted over to one side. Cassie was sure that they'd come down in the sea and expected every second to see water come pouring in to drown them where they sat.
But the pilot was taking off his safety strap and pushing the door open, yelling at them to get out.
Somehow Cassie managed to make her fingers work, to pull at the strap until it came free, but the woman next to her was screaming hysterically, making no move to undo her strap, just holding the baby and screaming, her eyes starting from her head. The pilot got out of his seat, pushed past Cassie and hit the other woman sharply across the face; the screaming stopped as if someone had turned off a radio. The other passenger had got his door open and was jumping out. Cassie scrambled out of her seat and moved to follow him.
'Keep your heads down!' the pilot yelled across at her. 'The rotors are still going round.'
It looked an awfully long way down, but the man had turned and was holding out a hand to her. Cassie took it and jumped, landing in water and soft sand. She saw that they had landed on the tiny beach of a small sea-locked bay with tall rugged cliffs all around it. The sound of the sea breaking on the rocky shore was very loud, that and the gradually slowing rotor blades.
'You'll have to help me,' the pilot shouted to them. 'I can't get her out.'
They waded round the front of the helicopter and Cassie saw with horror that it was balanced precariously with one rail on the edge of a large rock, in danger of slipping sideways at any moment. The woman had frozen with fear, clutching the baby to her breast and refusing to move.
`Come on, you've got to get out. It could go over at any moment!' The pilot had undone her strap and was trying to pull the woman out, but she wouldn't come. In desperation he snatched the baby out of her arms and gave it to Cassie. 'Get going. Run!' he yelled at her.
As Cassie turned to obey him she saw the woman scream like a wounded animal and almost fall out of the helicopter into the pilot's arms, her fear for her baby greater than her own. The two men picked the woman up between them and began to run through the shallows towards the beach as fast as they could. Cassie's high-heeled shoes sank into the sand at every stop and she impatiently kicked them off. The shingle cut into her feet, but at least she could run.
Behind her she heard a noise and turned to sec the helicopter start to slip off the rock, the rotor blades, which were still spinning round, only much slower now, gradually getting nearer the ground.
'Get down!'
Even as the pilot yelled a warning Cassie saw the danger and dropped to the ground, somehow managing to hold the baby out of the water. There was an almighty snapping sound as the first rotor hit the ground. Churned-up shingle flew with the velocity of bullets, all mixed up with sea spray and chunks of broken metal that whistled overhead and smashed against the stone cliffs, some of them ricocheting off to make a double danger. The second rotor blade hit and then the third, turning the beach into a nightmare of flying missiles and debris. Cassie heard a cry of pain behind her and was almost soaked by the spray of water, but then there was only the sound of the waves, breaking everlastingly over the shore.
Slowly she picked herself up and looked around. The baby was crying lustily, so that was all right. The two men had covered the woman with their own bodies, but the male passenger had blood coming from a wound in his back. Somehow they managed to wade on to the beach, the pilot more or less carrying the baby's mother. He set the woman down on the sand, leaning against the cliff face, and Cassie gave her her baby, then they helped the injured man off with his jacket so that the pilot could look at the wound.
'Do you know anything about nursing?' the pilot asked her.
Cassie shook her head. 'I'm afraid not.'
'There's a first aid box in the chopper; I'll go back and see if I can get it.'
He waded out to the now half-submerged helicopter and Cassie looked at the other man worriedly. 'Does it hurt very much?'
He shook his head. 'I'm so bloody wet I can't feel it. My name's Bill, by the way-Bill Harris.' 'Mine's Cassie Ventris.' He seemed to be all right, so Cassie turned towards the young mother and repeated her name, adding, 'How are you feeling? 'Not too bad. And the baby's all right, that's the main thing,' the woman answered with a pleasant Scots accent.
'Yes, of course. Is he your first baby?'
'Yes.' The woman looked up at Cassie. 'We've waited so long for him-nearly nine years. I lost three others I kept having miscarriages. I had to stay in bed for over five months to make sure I kept him. And now this—-now this has to happen!' The woman burst into tears and began to cry noisily.
'Oh, don't. Please hush. We're safe now. Look, what's your name?'
'Jeannie-Jeannie Cooper. I'm sorry, I'm a bit low at the moment.'
'Of course you are.' Cassie stayed and talked to her while the pilot put a dressing on Bill Harris's back. They were all wet through, but there was no wind to chill them, and Cassie could only be glad that it was summertime; if it had happened in the winter they wouldn't have stood a chance.
When the pilot had finished he looked about him and then up at the cliffs. 'I'd better try and climb those and see if I can get help.'
'Didn't you manage to send off a radio message?'
Bill Harris asked.
'I tried, but the cliffs must have been bouncing the signal back; there was a lot of interference and I was having trouble with the radio before we ditched.'
'Could a helicopter pick us up from here?'
'No.' The pilot shook his head. 'The cliffs are to close. The only thing I can do is go up. I've brought some flares from the chopper; I'll take a couple of them with me and if I hear or see anything I'll send one up-'
He walked round the little bay until he found a broken patch of cliff and then began to climb. They L watched him until the mist hid him from sight, then Bill Harris turned and looked at the water. 'I hope be hurries up,' he remarked.
Cassie was about to say, so do I, when she saw the grim expression on his face. 'What do you mean?'
'Look at the sea. The tide's coming in. And if you look at the seaweed on the cliffs you'll see that at high tide this bay is completely covered.'
'We can climb out, surely?'
'We can, perhaps, if there's a way up,' Bill agreed.
'But can she?' And he jerked his head towards Jeannie Cooper, who was leaning against the rocks, her eyes closed and her face very pale.
After that there didn't seem much to say until the pilot came back.
'I got to the top,' he told them. 'It's pretty tricky in one place, but we should be able to make it.'
'Any help up there?' Bill asked him, but hardly seemed surprised when he shook his head.
'No, none. Just open moorland, no roads or any sign of houses. Plenty of space for another chopper to land and pick us up, though, so I think we'd better try and get up there.' He looked across at Jeannie and then at Bill. 'You in much pain?'
'Can't feel a thing,' Bill replied in an obvious lie. 'Think you can help me wi
th her?'
'Sure, but what about the baby?'
The pilot turned to Cassie, but she spoke before he could even ask the question. 'Don't worry, I’ll look after it, but I don't think I could climb up and carry it at the same time.'
'I don't want you to, I want you to just wait here until I come back for you. Okay?'
Cassie smiled at him. `Okay.'
He grinned in response. 'Thanks, love. Right, let's try and rig something up so that I can carry her on my back.'
It was about twenty minutes before they set off, the pilot carrying Jeannie almost as a dead weight on his back with Bill Harris following behind to steady him. Even in that time the sea seemed to have come in a long way and had almost covered the helicopter. Cassie watched them slowly begin the climb and felt more alone than she'd ever felt in her life. Her thoughts flew to Simon, wondering if he was waiting for her and whether he yet knew that they'd crashed. Would he think that she'd been drowned? Would he perhaps be glad? The very thought chilled her more than her wet clothes, and she shivered violently.
The baby began to cry and she looked down at it, taking notice of it for the first time. She didn't know much about babies, but this one was, she supposed, quite a nice one; it wasn't all red and wrinkled like a monkey as most of them appeared to be. But it was so tiny; impossible to believe that anything that small could live. She'd forgotten to ask the mother how old it was, but it could only be a few days old at the most. It opened its mouth to cry again and she jiggled it up and down, not knowing what to do to keep it quiet. The poor little thing struggled in its blanket and its hands came out, bunched into minute fists as it beat at the air.
'Hush, hush! Don't cry, baby.' Cassie marvelled at its tiny hands, the fingers no bigger than her smallest fingernail but each one perfectly formed. She held it closer to her, tucking it inside her jacket, afraid its cry would carry to its mother and alarm her; it had been hard enough to persuade her to leave it behind as it was. The pilot had almost had to use violence in the end.
Tiny hands touched her breast, exploring, seeking, and she looked down and saw that the baby had its mouth open.
Cassie laughed softly. 'Oh, so you're hungry, are you? Well, you won't find anything there, chum I'm not your mum. Here, try this.' Tentatively she put the joint of her bent little finger into the baby's mouth and he began to suck on it happily, his eyes closing in delight. Cassie stood looking down at the baby for a very long time, her eyes full of sadness.
Water lapping round her bare feet made her look up to see that the sea had reached the foot of the cliffs. There was no sign yet of the pilot coming back. It would have taken him a long time with Jeannie on his back, he would have had to take frequent rests, and then there was Bill; for all he said he was all right, he must have been in considerable pain, the pilot might even have had to leave him part way and then go back for him. They might even all be stuck up there somewhere.
Cassie waited until the water was up to her knees, then she buttoned the baby inside her jacket and held it firmly in place with one hand, then slowly began to climb the cliff at the spot where the others had gone up.
When the pilot came down he found her about fifteen feet up the cliff face, standing on a ledge and leaning against a protruding piece of rock, resting. He scrambled over to her and leant with her against the rock, getting his breath back.
'Sorry I took so long, had a bit of bother getting Mrs. Cooper up the tricky bit.' He glanced down at the sea. 'Getting a bit wet down there, was it?'
'Just a bit,' Cassie agreed.
He grinned. 'We'll go on up in a minute. 'Fraid I'm a bit out of condition, I don't usually get this much exercise. How's the baby?'
'Asleep, I think.' Cassie glanced down at the child and settled it more comfortably in her arms. 'Are the others all right?'
'I don't think Bill Harris is very good-he passed out when we got to the top, that's another reason why I was so long, but at least looking after him is taking Mrs. Cooper's mind off her baby. And another good thing is that the mist's lifting,' he added cheerfully.
He rested for a few minutes longer, than took off his jacket and shirt, putting the jacket back on and fashioning the shirt into a sort of sling for his back, into which they put the baby, rather like the North American Indians used to use.
'There, it should be all right in there for a bit.' He looked at Cassie quizzically. 'Ever done any rock-climbing?'
'No. But if you can get up there, I can.'
He smiled approvingly. 'Good girl! Just follow me and try and put your hands and feet where I do. If you get stuck or panicky just yell and I'll come back for you.'
They went up slowly, with several rests, for the pilot as much as Cassie; after climbing the cliff twice already he was well nigh exhausted. Strangely enough the mist helped because they could only see the piece of cliff immediately around them, but it lifted as they neared the tricky bit, an overhang that had to be circumvented over loose, jagged rocks. Without shoes, Cassie found it extremely difficult. A piece of rock cut into her foot and she glanced down to look for a better foothold. She found herself looking down a sheer drop of fifty feet to the boiling sea and rocks below. Panic filled her and she gave a gasp of terror, clinging to the rock face, and too paralysed with fright to move.
Dimly above her she could hear the pilot calling her name, urging her on, but she couldn't move, could only weld herself to the cliff in an agony of fear.
Grimly he climbed back down to her. `Come on, there's nothing to be afraid of. I'll hold you.' He tried to prize her fingers from where they were gripping a piece of rock, but Cassie moaned in fear and held on tighter than ever. His voice grew urgent. `Come on, you've got to move. You're almost at the top. Come on,' he repeated. `Your husband's waiting for you.' Slowly Cassie's fingers unfroze. She moved a tentative hand upwards and began to climb again, the pilot encouraging and helping her. It seemed a thousand miles to the top, and even then she could hardly believe that they were safe until she crawled across the grass to where the others were waiting. Jeannie Cooper grabbed her baby and burst into tears. Cassie didn't blame her; she felt like having a good cry herself. She lay there for some time trying to still her pounding heart, then rolled over and saw that the mist had almost cleared and that, wonder of wonders, the grey cloud was breaking up and revealing patches of brilliant blue sky through which rays of golden sunlight were shafting down to the sea.
It was through one of these patches that they first saw the helicopter. They heard it first, then Jeannie Cooper gave an excited shout and pointed, and the pilot immediately sent up a flare. Then it seemed no time at all before the craft, from R.A.F. Rescue, had landed and picked them up, was taking them on to Kinray.
Cassie looked out of the window as they flew over the site, experiencing that Gulliver in Lilliput sensation again. They seemed to have progressed quite a lot since she had been here in February, two more of the jetties appeared to be completely finished. Simon's doing? she wondered. His drive and energy pushing the work on?
There were two ambulances waiting by the helicopter pad so that Jeannie Cooper and Bill Harris could be taken by stretcher and hurried away to the local cottage hospital. The pilot jumped out and she followed more slowly, her feet cut and sore. She grimaced wryly as she realised what she must look like, with her hair loose and windswept, her clothes torn and sea-stained. One of the R.A.F. men went to lift her down, but then he was shouldered aside and Simon was there.
He was staring up at her, his face white and drawn, more haggard than she had ever seen it. He said urgently, 'Cassie,' then reached up and lifted her down. For a long moment he gazed into her face, then he made a small sound in his throat and pulled her roughly into his arms to hold her very, very tightly. Neither of them moved or spoke for some time, both too choked by emotion to do more than just cling to each other.
But then Simon put his hands up to her face and asked unsteadily, 'Are you-are you all right?'
She nodded and tried to smile. 'Yes. E
xcept that I lost my shoes.'
He glanced down at her feet, then stooped to pick her up in his arms. There was a car waiting nearby and he carried her across, ignoring a doctor who wanted her to go to hospital for a check-up and some reporters who tried to ask questions and take pictures. After putting her in the passenger seat, Simon got in beside her and drove firmly through the crowd of people, accelerating out of the oil terminal and along the road to his house. Cassie leant back in the seat, content just to look at him, knowing that this wasn't the time for words. Not yet. That time was still to come, but now it wasn't so important any more. At the house he lifted her out of the car and carried her upstairs to the bedroom. No one came to see who it was; they had the place to themselves. He set her down and helped her to take off her ruined jacket and skirt, then knelt and gently took off her torn tights. Cassie couldn't help a tremor running through her as she felt his hands on her legs, and his eyes came swiftly up to meet hers. But then he helped her into a chair, went into the bathroom, and coming back with a bowl of warm water began very tenderly to bathe her feet, then dry them on a soft towel.
Cassie sat in the chair, her eyes closed, feeling drained of strength and emotion. That there was still a great gulf between them she knew, but for the moment she thrust all thoughts of it aside, feeling only his hands tending her, taking care of her, knowing that he was close.
Simon moved away and she slowly opened her eyes. He was standing watching her, the drawn look still in his face but not so pale now.
Cassie tensed nervously and sat up her eyes and troubled. 'Simon, I…'
But her words were broken off as he beat down and caught her by the arms, pulling her to her feet, he kissed her then, so fiercely that he hurt her, bending her head back so that she had to cling to him to stop herself falling. And then his hands were at her clothes, pulling them off, clumsy in his haste. She tried to speak, but he silenced her with his mouth, picking her up and carrying her over to the bed.
Sally Wentworth Page 15