by V Clifford
‘Watsons!’ Viv and Archie said in unison.
Davie grinned again. ‘What are you lot like? Just because I lived on a council estate in Dunfermline doesn’t mean I didn’t have access to private school. I travelled through to Edinburgh on the train every day. Love that rail bridge as if I’d built it myself.’
Viv was astonished, although his accent did have shades of Edinburgh south. Archie, on the other hand, was posher, more nasal, less clipped, difficult to describe, but definitely different. She’d guess that Gordon was either a Royal High boy or maybe a Herioter. She’d find out soon enough.
Chapter Ten
Frances straggled behind, stopping every now and then to take a photograph. How the phone had survived the swim she had no idea. Viv had left her tech, nervous of getting it wet. Frances looked much better now; her colour had returned and her eyes were bright. She must have sorted out her medication. How weird to sleep walk without knowledge of what you’d been doing. There was a famous historical case of somnambulism in Edinburgh, where a man killed his wife with a meat cleaver and got away with it because he was asleep. Nice work if you could get it. She smiled. Also been studies where sleepers were filmed walking around their homes, their gardens, eating stuff from their fridges and freezers, then when awake denied the whole thing only to be shown the film footage. One woman had even gone out to the local shop and they had it on their CCTV. So much for ‘know thyself’. We’ve all got bits of ourselves that are buried, not always a bad thing, but in the main it’s surely better to root them out and befriend them.
‘Come on, Frances, catch up.’ Viv called over her shoulder. The testosterone around her was becoming claustrophobic.
They waited and Frances caught up. She raised her phone to photograph the group but Archie shouted, ‘Oi, you don’t have my permission to do that.’
The rest of them looked surprised. It wasn’t as if they were naked or in a compromising situation. What could he possibly object to? Viv hated having her photograph taken, but couldn’t be bothered arguing about one snap.
Davie said, ‘Chill. She’s not going to post it on Facebook or anything.’ Even his tone was more of a command than a casual observation. Were they all photo-phobic?
Archie said, ‘Could you delete that please?’
Frances shrugged. ‘No problem.’ She turned her phone towards him and deleted it. ‘Better?’
‘Thank you.’
They marched on in silence until Davie said, ‘Look.’ And pointed out to sea.
They stopped and stared at the calm water. Nothing.
‘What are you staring at?’ said Viv.
‘Shhhh!’
Then a seal bobbed its head above the water only a few metres from the shore. Viv wondered if it was the same one. She started singing the Skye Boat Song. The others stared at her as if she’d lost the plot. The seal began to duck and dive and then bobbed its head up again and stared back at them. Viv was thrilled and sang the next verse. It did the same routine then stopped again to stare at them. Davie, Gordon and Frances wandered ahead, still watching the seal.
Archie laughed, a deep bellowing sound. The seal disappeared.
Viv nudged him. ‘See what you’ve done.’
‘I didn’t mean to.’ He playfully pushed her back. ‘Hey maybe we could get a drink sometime?’
Viv couldn’t take her eyes off the horizon but smiled. ‘Maybe.’
They stood for another few minutes, Archie a little too close for comfort, but the seal didn’t reappear.
‘You spoiled its fun.’ Viv said, disappointed.
Frances dropped back. ‘Look.’ She passed her phone to Viv.
There it was, a video of the seal playing before her eyes. ‘That’s fantastic. Could you send me that?’
‘Sure. No worries. I’ll get your email address before we leave.’
They continued along the edge of the cliffs, Viv’s eyes peeled on the water, in the hope that the seal had followed. No luck.
Eventually they stopped and she laid the map flat on the ground again, checking for specific contours and landmarks. By her calculations they should be almost directly above the cave. She lay flat on the ground and stretched over the cliff edge. There were a couple of options on how to get down. There was a chimney that they could climb down, but further on they might more easily scramble to the shore. They walked on.
Gordon stopped and sat on the edge, draping himself over. He scrambled down sideways, making light of the descent. ‘No probs. We’ll be down . . .’
Half way down, about thirty-five feet from the bottom, he had to turn around. He lost his footing and grabbed at the rock, just managing to secure himself. Still unable to see where to place his feet, he froze. He was stuck. Amazed at how quickly his confidence evaporated, Viv checked the cliff further on for a way that she could join him. She’d tried free climbing in her youth but much preferred using a rope. Without that option she carefully slipped over the edge.
By the time she reached him he was soaking with perspiration, his fingertips white, as if he’d become rooted to the rock. Viv climbed to where she could get a good hold about a metre to his right. He was teetering with one of his large booted feet on a tiny ledge.
‘If you move your right foot a short distance further to the right you’ll be fine.’
He glared at her. Sweat dripped off the end of his nose. She could smell his panic. It wasn’t a difficult move at all, but he’d entered that zone where everything was distorted.
She scanned the rock assessing the safest way to get below him. Free climbing was precarious even at ten feet from the ground and they were much higher than that. She gripped a fissure and stretched her foot down until it settled on a fine ridge, but as she tested it with her weight it gave and she lost her grip. By sheer fluke her fingers held her weight until her foot found a crack, which prevented her from coming off. She took a long breath and slowly but steadily managed to climb below him until she was a few feet from the shore. His right leg was shaking uncontrollably. ‘Look, you’ll have to trust me on this. Just stretch your right leg out to the right and you’ll feel a large ledge. If nothing else it’ll give your leg a rest.’ Adrenaline was a wonderful thing if you wanted to sprint or do the high jump. But when you’re convinced you will fall to your death, unless you’re super efficient at mind over matter, adrenaline was not your friend.
Gordon stretched his shaking leg and almost got to the ledge but pulled back. ‘Fuck!’ His fingers were gripping too tightly to a large fissure. No point in telling him to relax them, it would make matters worse.
‘You were almost there. Next time just another few inches and you’ll do it.’
He stretched again. The silence from the others above spoke volumes. He managed to place his foot. Putting his weight on the ledge meant he could shake out his arms one at a time. If he continued to move to his right there was an easy way to the shore. Viv waited until he was confident enough to make eye contact with her.
She nodded. ‘If you continue right, there’s a huge crack that you can get your feet and hands into.’ Viv knew that if need be he could make a fist and hang off the damn thing, but she could see he was in no mood for theatrical moves.
He blew out another long breath then glanced toward the crack she’d described. ‘Thanks. I think I can manage the rest of the way.’
She continued to down climb onto the pebbly beach and watched as slowly and deliberately he made his way to meet her. It wasn’t graceful but he made it.
He brushed himself off as if he’d got dust on his trousers. ‘Thanks.’
She could see that this had cost him, so she just nodded and called up to the others. ‘Just follow the root down this crack, don’t get creative, and it’ll be a piece of cake.’
Gordon raised his eyebrows.
‘Well it was, wasn’t it?’
He stood back from the cliff and shaded his eyes. ‘It does look like a piece of cake from here but when you’re up there . . .’
&n
bsp; ‘I know everything’s out of proportion. Let’s see if we can find the cave.’
They set off to the right along the shore. There were a couple of possibilities. Viv crouched on the ground and guarding her eyes from the sunlight, squinted into the darkness. She could make out shapes that might be canoes. ‘This could be it.’ She sighed, surprised that they’d been set such a feeble challenge. ‘Not much of a challenge, is it?’ She turned to look at Gordon who by the horror on his face clearly thought he’d had plenty to challenge him for one day.
The others joined them, Frances first then Davie and Archie.
Archie said, ‘This is a piece of cake, Viv. D’you think they’ve got some belter waiting for us round the bay?’
‘No idea. Let’s do one thing at a time. Who wants to crawl inside and push the canoes out?’
Davie volunteered and he and Archie hunkered down beneath the gloomy entrance and adjusting their eyes to the cool dark interior, edged their way inside. Archie, although bent double, caught his hair on the rough damp roof. Davie was on his knees, his slight wiry frame making light of crawling over the slimy rocky floor. The depth of the cave was difficult to gauge but it didn’t matter since the canoes were only a few metres beyond the entrance. They pushed them one at a time out into the sunlight, where the others waited, eager to pull them onto the beach. Each canoe contained a double paddle and a lifejacket.
***
The last canoe was the furthest in and sat at an odd angle.
Archie gasped. ‘Wait! What . . .’ His voice echoed around the low chamber.
Viv hunkered down and flicked her pocket torch on. ‘What is it?’
Archie pointed to a boot sticking out at the back of the last canoe.
‘Oh my God.’ Moving as quickly as she could, Viv crawled her way to the body. She checked her pulse. It was the dread-locked woman from the centre. She was alive but her skin was ice cold. There were no signs of blood but she had a dark purple swelling on her forehead. They had to get her out of the wet cave. ‘How are we going to move her?’
Archie backed out, allowing Davie and Viv access.
Viv said, ‘Davie, quickly, take hold of her feet. We have to get her out of here.’
Archie said, ‘But what if something’s broken?’
Viv stopped. ‘I think we need to get her out. She’s freezing. It’s a risk . . . What do you guys think?’
They all nodded unhelpfully.
‘What does that mean? Shall we move her or leave her here until we can get the coast guard or someone from the centre?’
Davie said, ‘I say we move her.’
A general nodding of heads. Davie crawled to the woman’s feet and Viv struggled to get her own arms fixed beneath the shoulders.
Without ceremony they heaved the woman inch by heavy inch to the front of the cave. Once they had her in full sunlight Viv took her pulse again. She hauled a fleece from her sack and wrapped it round the woman’s torso, saying, ‘Frances. Is your phone working?’
‘Nope. It’s out of battery.’ She looked sheepish. ‘I should be able to send an emergency text.’
‘Send an SOS to Mac.’
‘Who?’
Viv sighed. ‘Marconi. Tell him to get back round here as soon as.’
The bump on the woman’s head looked much worse in the sunlight. It looked like there could be internal bleeding. Not sure what to do next, Viv checked her pulse yet again. It was still weak. Her icy skin wasn’t helped by her damp clothes. How long had she been there? When had the canoes been dropped off? Viv tried to remember the sequence of things. She chewed her lip. It would take too long for Mac to get to them.
‘I wonder if we should just try to get her back to the centre by canoe?’
The others looked down at the woman, then at Viv.
Archie said. ‘I think it’s worth waiting for Marconi. She might have other injuries and we’ve no idea how long it’s going to take us to get back.’
Gordon nodded. ‘I’m with Archie on that.’
Viv replied, ‘Yeah, I get that. But every minute that we waste here she’s getting weaker.’
Frances said, ‘The text hasn’t even gone yet. There’s no telling how long it could take. It could sit on some server. I say we get her into a canoe and get moving.’
A couple of the canoes were designed for two people.
Davie chewed at the inside of his cheek. ‘I say we get going.’
Viv nodded. ‘Any volunteers?’
Archie looked around and since no one else was offering he shrugged. ‘Okay, I’ll take her, but someone else will have to take my rucksack. The canoe isn’t big enough to take that as well.’
Davie said, ‘Pass it over here. I can manage it, my sack’s pathetic.’
‘Settled,’ Viv said to no one in particular.
Archie had serious upper body muscle, but after his reaction to the swim Viv wondered about his endurance. The Corryvreckan must surely influence the currents in this bay and would make the paddle back hard going. Viv and Davie lifted the woman, no lightweight, into the canoe, while Archie held it steady in the water. Easier said than done.
‘Frances, could you send Mac an update? Delete the last text if you can.’
‘No can do. But I’ll send an update and hope he gets it before he acts on the first one.’
Viv and Davie pushed Archie off from the shore, then grabbed their own canoes. Frances hauled hers away from the water’s edge and stepped into it. Viv, Davie and Gordon followed – Davie opted for the other large craft. Perfect conditions. No wind, a high sun, every canoeist’s dream. Frances quickly paddled out to the front, with Gordon then Davie following. Davie overtook Gordon and paddled alongside Frances. Viv was keen to stay with Archie but held back until they were in clear water before she came alongside him. ‘You okay?’
‘Sure. What could be nicer than this? I mean chances of me charming a woman to come to sea with me are pretty remote. But she’s not making a fuss.’ He chuckled. ‘Best kind of woma . . .’ Catching Viv’s raised eyebrows he changed course, ‘I mean . . .’
‘I know what you mean and it’s probably better if you don’t go that route. You done this kind of stuff before? I know you said you’d played rugby but this?’ She glanced around her. The coastline from the water was magnificent. It gave a whole new perspective to the landscape. She spied another couple of places where it would have been easier to descend, but hey ho they were fine now.
Archie said, ‘I did a bit of sailing in my youth but it wasn’t really my thing. I like contact sport.’
She nodded. What was it about big burly men and rough and tumble? Were they hanging onto their youth? Continuing behaviour that was sanctioned in the playground? She could think of nothing worse than a scrum.
Archie said, ‘Wonder how the family lunch will be today? They’ll be delighted to have the golden boy to themselves. Taking on the family firm, married his school sweetheart, now got an heir and a spare. Perfect, fucking perfect.’ He glanced at Viv and gave a slight grin as if he’d just noticed that she was his audience.
Viv looked away in the hope that he’d continue.
He did. ‘You know I’ve never done anything right. Well, not as far as they’re concerned. The bro. He’s toed their every line. Usually in families the prodigal son, you know the one who pisses off, does his own thing, then returns, is greeted with open arms and a large slice of the inheritance? Not my parents. They’ve rewarded him for being dull. Really, he’s allowed them to manipulate him. He’s even been forced to take my father’s place in the ar . . .’ Suddenly he stopped. Said too much. He laughed. And in a much lighter tone continued, ‘Families, eh, you’ve got to love them.’
Viv was intrigued. Surely his father was too old to be in the army? How was she going to tempt him to finish his sentence? She said, ‘I have a sister who seems to be doing a similar kind of thing. She’s married and has produced the first grandchild.’ Amanda had toed as few lines as Viv, but he didn’t need to know that.
‘Why is that?’ Archie said. ‘Is it not a child’s desire to forge their own way? Stray from the family line?’
Viv hadn’t noticed that he was doing any of that if he was still pitching up every Sunday for lunch. So what else had he been up to that had made him unpopular?
‘D’you get on with your brother and his family?’
‘To an extent, although they seem to think I’m judging them for being goodie-two-shoes, which of course I am. Even their kids are perfect.’ He sniggered. ‘Bound to come apart at the seams sometime, eh?’
‘Bound to. Perfection is a myth in my book.’
He stared at her. ‘You strike me as pretty perfect.’
‘Me? You’ve got to be kidding.’ She shook her head. ‘What do your dad and brother have in common that you couldn’t care less about?’
He hesitated.
She continued, ‘You see, my sis has a life dominated by fashion. You know – must have the latest high-end superficial crap.’ They paddled on at a gentle pace.
He laughed. ‘Doesn’t every woman?’
‘You’re on very shaky ground, mate. And need to get out more. Find yourself some different women. Amanda, my sister, she’d never be seen dead without the latest label. Me? Couldn’t give a toss.’ This wasn’t entirely true.
‘You look pretty good.’
‘Piss off. I wasn’t fishing for compliments. I’m just saying there are women who have other things that interest them. So what about your dad and your brother?’
‘Well, they have the law for a kick off. Then there are all the societies that go with that. Like the Spec.’
Viv said, ‘What’s that?’
‘A debating society for fogies.’
She nodded, remembering that Spec was short for Speculative Society, a society that had recently been in the press. They used rooms in Edinburgh University’s Old College, rooms that hadn’t changed since R.L. Stevenson had graced them. But the university powers were trying to get rid of them. The difficulty was that the Spec had owned the site since before the University was built and the rooms were theirs in perpetuity. They’d originally exchanged their own building, allowing it to be demolished and a new quad, now the ‘old quad’, to be built on their site. So the land belonged to them and the University could do nothing about that. And since many of their members were lawyers, the Uni was on a hiding to nothing. If the Spec moved it would be because the members had voted to, not because some outsider told them what to do.
