by Julie Caplin
‘Seriously folks. This is shit. We paid for walking tour and an ice climb.’ He looked around hoping to recruit supporters.
Alex stepped forward from the circle of hikers. ‘He’s the expert, you should be listening to him. He’s responsible for all our safety.’
‘Yeah,’ drawled Brad, ‘you know these places are always over cautious. Another twenty minutes isn’t going to kill anyone.’
He crossed to the wall and swung his axe in a wide angry arc. Startled Lucy reared back, ducking away from the blade in a Matrix like swerve which probably worked if you were an Olympic gymnast but not if you were ordinary out of shape Lucy Smart. Off balance, her feet anchored by the stupid crampons, she flailed like some windmill-armed cartoon character before gravity took the victory and she toppled backwards in what felt like a perfect slow-motion comedy bronze moment, straight over the edge of the small shelf of ice that Sven had warned them to stay away from.
Although it wasn’t a big drop, no more than six feet, she felt every one of them. Once she’d gone over, there was no way she could gain purchase on the ice and she slid down, limbs flapping and her head still in the helmet, thunk, thunk, thunking all the way down until she slithered to an ungainly halt with an end of the road thud and one last bang to the head. Everything went black.
When Lucy came to, she could feel someone gingerly checking her limbs. Opening her eyes, she winced as light stabbed into her head. A ghostly, twin edged image of Alex hovered above her.
‘Lucy! Lucy.’ He gently tapped her face with two fingers.
‘You’ve been on the same first aid course as me,’ she said, except it came out as youbeonnnsamfirsacrseasme. Her head was blurry with a fuzzy memory of a trainer doing that tap, tap on a colleague playing the unresponsive body. Where they on a training course? Was that why she was lying on the floor? It was cold down here.
Alex frowned and leaned back on his heels as Sven loomed into view. She struggled to sit up, got halfway and promptly felt sick. With a groan she slumped, her shoulders barely able to hold her up her head which was about to explode.
‘Can you move your legs?’ asked the guide urgently, looking at his watch.
What? Did he have a train to catch? Were there trains back down the glacier? Maybe she could hail a cab. She closed her eyes and was about to sink back down when she felt her shoulders grasped.
‘Lucy.’
Blearily she opened her eyes to find the identical concerned faces of Alex one and Alex two peering at her.
‘Hello. Hello,’ she said to both of them, her voice sounding foghorn loud in her head. ‘Hello, hello,’ she whispered but that still hurt her head and then nausea punched into her throat.
‘ThinkI’mgoingtobesick,’ she mumbled, rolling away to the side. Everything hurt but she could move. As she stared down at the crystal packed surface, a vision of tumbling and nose planting the ice came back to her and she remembered falling.
Forcing herself to sit up, she wriggled her legs.
‘Nothing broken,’ she said, everything coming back to her like the slam of a door. She was conscious of the audience of horrified faces peering over the ledge a few feet above. It was embarrassing. She hadn’t fallen that far at all.
Anxious to reassure Alex and Sven that she hadn’t broken anything, she lumbered to her feet and swayed on the spot, the world whirling around her. Yikes it was worse than being on the Waltzers at the fair. They were both looking so worried, she didn’t dare tell them about the double vision or the mother of all headaches threatening to split her skull in two. The wind had already picked up and the tiny ice pricks foretelling of snow bit into her skin.
‘I’m fine. Bit bruised.’
Relieved, Sven took her at her word, with unsympathetic alacrity, picking up her ice axe and pointing out a route that would take them along a parallel path with the others before convening a few yards ahead. He picked up his walkie talkie and held an anxious conversation with the base in the car park.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ asked Alex one and two, their heads dipping to one side as if trying to see into hers.
She failed in her nod, it was too painful. Instead she bit her lip. Both Alexes took her hands, all of them, enfolding them within his with a reassuring squeeze as if to say I’m right here.
Then Sven’s voice was beside her. ‘We need to start down the glacier.’
Lucy could sense some kind of exchange between Alex and Sven in the heavy silence that followed her statement.
‘Do you think you can walk down?’ asked Alex.
‘Yes. I’m having a bit of trouble … I’ll be fine. Just bruised,’ she lied. She could tell the men flanking her were still holding some unspoken conversation.
‘I need to lead everyone down, and we need to go quickly because the weather is closing in. The wind is getting stronger.’ Sven’s easy-going face was now lined with worry.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she reiterated, conscious that she was already holding things up.
‘It’s OK, I’ll look after her.’ Alex’s words resonated with firm resolve.
Sven climbed up the slope using his axe, with the renewed stern warning that everyone must stay on the path, while Lucy and Alex walked in a parallel path until they joined the main party.
The group stepped out of the lee of a field of ice peaks, to find the wind hitting them full in the face, blustering around like a playground bully, pushing and pulling at them as they formed a two by two line.
She stumbled and immediately Alex’s voice was at her shoulder, he took her arm.
‘Remember what Sven said when we set out. Trust your feet. You’re going to be fine.’ His voice rang with conviction that she knew he couldn’t possibly be feeling but she was grateful for him trying to reassure her.
Nodding she tried to calm herself. Suddenly getting down the glacier seemed a huge task. Nerves jangled as the muted voices floated back along the line. She could do this. Not that she had any choice. She had to. Around her the blur of figures moved slowly carefully picking their way in rank and file formation. And then it began to snow, flakes swirling gathering momentum above them coming down with the driving wind.
Pinching her lips tight so that she didn’t start to cry, she shuffled along beside Alex, their arms still linked, his body slightly sheltering her from some of the wind and the bite of the snow. She didn’t like having to rely on other people. She focused on the sounds around her. The crunch of the crampons, one foot after the other, in a steady tramp as they trekked back across the glacier, the buffeting sound of the wind and the eerie echo of silence.
She gripped her ice axe and doggedly put one foot in front of the other, fighting against the double vision. One. Two. One. Two.
After what felt like hours but was probably mere minutes they came to the bit where they needed to stay in single file and follow Sven. Alex reluctantly relinquished her arm. She remembered the wicked looking creases in the ice running parallel to their path on the way up and Sven’s warnings.
She froze. Her legs refusing to move. Feet too heavy to lift.
‘Lucy. Come on, we’ve got to keep moving.’ The others were already marching off in a blurry single file, the heavy snow further distorting her vision. Two Svens turned back and gestured fiercely at them. His hoarse impatient shout was tossed away in the strengthening wind.
‘I … I can’t.’ Her vision faded in and out, one minute double, the next merely fuzzy. Both made her feel very sick.
‘Of course you can, it’s not much further. You’ve come this far. Put your hand on my shoulder and follow me.’
‘Which shoulder?’ she asked, swaying, a little disorientated by the stop. She’d become used to the rhythmic routine of one foot after another other. Starting over confused her. With her gloved hand she reached for his shoulder but missed.
Alex’s frown jumped in parallel across his faces. He peered into hers, staring right into her eye with impersonal determination. ‘Lucy, can you see properly.’
‘Sort of,’ she said, with a wince. ‘There are a couple of you. I’m not sure if I tried to kiss you right now, I’d hit the target.’ Her attempt at levity hit the deck. Alex’s frown turned into a fully-fledged glower.
‘Why the hell didn’t you say anything before?’ he asked, with the snap of an angry crocodile.
‘Because it wouldn’t have made any difference. We needed to get down and I … didn’t think it would be this hard.’ Her head drooped and tears pricked at her eyes. Tiredness, or maybe it was fear, threatened to hijack the muscles in her legs which protested at the weight of her limbs refusing to cooperate.
Then she was encircled in a reassuring hug, the brief touch of an icy kiss on her already cold, forehead. Snow had collected in clumps dappling the fringe escaping from her woolly bobble hat.
‘Unfortunately luggage boy isn’t on a par with Superman, so I can’t offer to carry you.’ He squeezed her. ‘But we’ll get down together. Trust me.’
Trust. Oh shit. Everything inside her rebelled. Trust him. Could she?
It must have shown on her face.
He gripped both her hands. ‘I’ll look after you Lucy, I promise. We’ll get down together.’
‘You … you promise?’ she asked in the most pathetic little voice, both the words and her wimpy tone embarrassing her already. Tomorrow she’d probably die of shame.
‘I’ll get you down.’ The low timbre of his voice, redolent with certainty poured over her like molten treacle. It was a promise.
And she knew, with bone deep certainty one that he would honour. For a dizzying moment, she wavered. To trust or not.
‘OK,’ she sighed heavily. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Take the other end of my ice axe and give me one end of yours. Trust your feet and take it one step at a time.’
It was a brilliantly practical and eminently Alex solution.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Like an army of ants, footsteps marched across the frozen glacier and Lucy listened hard trying to match Alex’s steps in front but the outlying silence of the air which seemed oppressive was also disorientating. Trying to rely on her hearing was more tiring than she could ever have imagined.
At last they came to what she knew was the penultimate leg. While they didn’t need to walk in single file, it was still quite a challenging section made worse by the diminishing visibility thanks to the thickening snow. Alex gathered up both ice axes in one hand and took her hand with his other.
‘Well done, Lucy. Not far to go now. How’s your vision?’
‘I can see better now, there’s only one of you but it’s easier to close my eyes and open them every now and then,’ she said. ‘I’ve got such a headache. The white hurts.’
‘OK, well I can guide you. You’re doing great. I’ll hold your hands and talk you through everything. You just open them when you need to. OK?’
She gripped his hand. ‘OK. Lead on. I’m in your hands.’
Warm breath fanned her forehead. A tantalising brush of his lips danced across her skin.
‘Right we’re going down a small slope and twisting to the left. Plant your feet really carefully. Put your hand on my shoulder.’ Stiff with tension, she followed his instructions, feeling the pull on her calves as they carefully inched down.
‘Only five more steps and then this bit is over.’
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. She let out the breath she’d been holding for all five steps. Her headache was making it difficult to concentrate.
‘Great. Now it’s a slight incline. Hold my hand and I’ll help pull you up. It’s probably about ten, twelve big steps. It’s steep.’
Counting made it easier and Alex counted with her. His voice became a beacon, her personal lighthouse, never faltering in the clear concise instructions he relayed.
Gradually her muscles began to relax. Following Alex’s low-voiced instructions became as natural as breathing. It was easier to stay silent so that she could concentrate and not miss anything he said.
‘We can walk two abreast here.’
‘Ok, the ice is slushy here, remember the stream, where we stopped to drink the water, we’re coming up to that. When I say you’ll need a big step to cross.’
The final leg was the part she was dreading. The open ice field sloping downwards with nothing to shelter them from the driving wind and the increasingly heavy snow and nothing to stop them tumbling down if they fell. As they left the lee of the mountain, the wind funnelled down the glacier, blasting at them so hard, Lucy thought she might be blown off her feet but Alex was there grabbing her arm and wedging himself up against her to take her weight as she stumbled down the slope.
The last part of the walk was only twenty minutes, although it was miserable with the wind tugging and screaming at them, driving the icy snow like needles into their faces.
When they staggered onto the rough pebbled path from the glacier, Lucy heaved a huge sigh of relief. Around her she could hear the others scrambling to remove the crampons, which at the start of the trip had been welcomed with a sense of with adventure and were now being discarded in haste, an irritant rather than an exciting novelty.
Crouching she fumbled with the fastenings.
‘Here, let me,’ said Alex. ‘You don’t want to cut your fingers.’
‘No more Happy Feet,’ she mumbled, too weary to protest and past the point of putting up any resistance.
Chapter 22
Ten past three in the morning. Lucy shifted her head gently on the pillow, turning away from the digital numbers glowing on the bedside clock.
Her head felt a lot better, clearer and less muddled, compared to when Alex had led her back in to the lodge. He’d phoned Hekla from the car asking for the nearest doctor and they’d called in on one in Hvolsvöllur on their way home. The doctor, Hekla’s uncle’s best friend, had shone a too bright light in her eyes, declared she had mild concussion and wasn’t to be left on her own for the next forty-eight hours. News that Hekla received with grave concern when they’d arrived back at the lodge.
‘Lucy, Lucy…’ she’d lapsed into sorrowful Icelandic, before wrapping her arms around her with a big hug.
‘Hey, Hekla, I’m OK,’ Lucy had said when she felt the other girl’s tears on her cheek, touched by her worried concern.
Now Lucy smiled as she recalled the scene in the guest lounge, the fire crackling and spitting in the big hearth as Hekla had insisted on taking her to the nearest sofa.
‘Come. Come. Sit.’ Hekla had tugged off Lucy’s coat handing it to Elin lurking behind her. Beyond her, Brynja and Olafur hovered. Brynja clasping her hands while Olafur looked tense and unhappy.
Freya had run forward, dropping to her knees to tug off Lucy’s dirty, wet walking boots.
Now in bed, Lucy’s eyes filled with sudden tears at the memory of them fussing over her.
‘Sit. Sit,’ Hekla had said, insistent on guiding her onto the sofa ignoring Lucy’s feeble attempts to say she was fine. All she’d really wanted to do was go straight to bed, but with all of them looking so worried, she didn’t have the heart, especially not when Hekla had said, ‘We’ll look after you,’ and firmly pushed her down onto the sofa and tucked one of the soft throws around Lucy, enveloping her in a soft hug of cashmere.
‘Would you like something to drink?’ Elin had immediately asked, plumping up a cushion and handing it to Hekla who put it behind Lucy’s head.
Lucy rolled her head from side to side as gently as she could, mimicking the attempt she’d made to say no, back in the lounge. It didn’t hurt as much as it had done then. Not that it had done any good, Hekla ignored her anyway.
She and Brynja had had a brief argument as to the merits of proper hot chocolate, which would be delayed by a trip to the kitchen, or the office machine hot chocolate which was more immediate. Hekla won the argument but it was Elin who’d volunteered to go the kitchen. Lucy’s attempt to protest that office chocolate was fine was met with Elin’s raised finger, which brought a smile to Lucy’s face. Elin w
as far too ethereal and willowy to threaten anyone. Elin and Hekla had headed off to the kitchen, bickering gently.
Minutes later, Kristjan had appeared with a plate of brownies followed by Hekla and Elin with a tray of steaming hot chocolates in the pretty blue glazed earthenware mugs that Kristjan’s aunt had started making for the lodge.
‘I brought these for you. Chocolate is good, ja? What happened? Did you fall?’
‘Yes, how did this happen?’ asked Brynja, perching on the edge of the nearest chair, flanked by Freya and Olafur. Hekla and Elin snuggled on the sofa on either side of Lucy and Kristjan plonked himself down at her feet leaning against Hekla’s legs.
Lucy closed her eyes remembering how as she’d slowly retold the whole sorry tale with regular interjections from Alex, they’d all listened with the rapt Icelandic attention to storytelling. When she reached the end, there’d been a satisfied silence punctuated by the fire crackling merrily in the grate until Olafur had piped up. ‘Yes, you were very lucky. Remember that guest who broke her ankle, last year. And the Swedish guy who died up there. There was also–’
She had been lucky. No bones broken, although with the bruises starting to make themselves felt, she didn’t feel quite so lucky. The thumping against her skull had eased but turning over was difficult. For a few seconds she struggled unable to understand why her legs were pinned by the duvet. It took a while for her brain to catch up and realise why.
Next to her, fully dressed, slept Alex, his legs crossed at the ankles and arms folded at his chest, propped up on a pile of pillows. Feeling slightly guilty at spying on him while sleeping, she turned and raised herself on one elbow. It felt good to be an advantage for once, instead of mid throe of a crisis.
His formal, quiet pose reminded her of one of those stone carved mediaeval knights she’d seen in Winchester Cathedral, like Chaucer’s veray parfit gentil knight. His stillness fascinated her and a breath caught in her throat, stuck fast as she studied his handsome face, trying to break it down into component parts.