The Man in the Shadow

by Jan Andersen

  It seemed to her that she heard voices, but that could be part of the dream too. Perhaps there was someone on the mountain apart from herself. She hurried on a little faster, tempting fate.

  The rock loomed up almost as she reached it. She put out her hand to save herself, but there was only air. Her feet slid from under her in a pile of loose shale. She screamed once and then there was blackness.

  Jess was coming up slowly from a long, dark pit. There was a pain in her head, so that she felt incapable of opening her eyes and the whole of her body seemed to be one huge bruise. Perhaps it all had been a dream after all, for at least she was warm and dry under a pile of blankets. But her thoughts were still jumbled. And the vision of a ginger-haired reporter was so strong that she cried out in anguish, ‘Oh, please don’t let him hurt Richard. Please...’ Then there was a needle in her arm and blessed darkness came down again.

  It was strange how bright the light was, how strong the sun, and yet she had only opened her eyes a crack. She could see an expanse of vivid sky, and nothing else, as though she were on the roof of the world.

  She turned her head very slightly and saw the movement at the other side of the room. A figure stood up and came to tower beside her.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes, it’s me,’ he answered. ‘Were you expecting someone else?’

  She struggled further into wakefulness. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Four o’clock. Time for an English tea,’ he said with heavy irony.

  She turned away, unable to stop the tears squeezing from under her eyelids. ‘Four o’clock! Then I’m too late after all. All that effort and I’m still too late.’

  ‘What are you too late for, Jess?’ This time his tone sounded more human.

  ‘Bruce. George Bruce. That’s why I tried to come up last night, so that I could get here before him. I wanted to tell you to get away, but it isn’t any good.’ She felt as though she were plunging back into that dark pit.

  ‘Was it Bruce who you were trying to tell me last night would hurt me?’

  She nodded.

  She heard the scrape of a chair as he sat down beside the bed.

  ‘I don’t know what it’s all about, but no George Bruce has been up here.’

  She was suddenly fully awake and tried to pull herself up on the pillows. ‘Oh, then it’s all right. Please, Richard, you’ll have to get away from here. Get off the mountain. Go anywhere, but don’t stay here!’

  ‘Is he after my money or my life?’

  ‘It’s not funny,’ she said fiercely. ‘He’s after what I was supposed to get—your story. And he’ll get it too, and twist it. He’s got that sort of reputation. He’s one of the most notorious reporters in Fleet Street.’

  ‘And you mean to say you came all this way to warn me off a reporter? You struggled half way up the mountain and nearly killed yourself to do that?’

  ‘I didn’t have time to write to you,’ she said weakly. She saw he was standing up, and then he left her to go to the kitchen. She pulled herself into a sitting position and watched his broad back as he bent over the kettle. At least he wasn’t quite as awful to her as she had expected. She had done what she had come for. Perhaps she could leave now before there were any harsh words between them.

  He put a mug of tea into her hands. ‘Here, drink this. And when did you last have something to eat?’

  Her mind fought with memory. ‘Yesterday, I suppose. A snack on the plane.’

  He disappeared again and when he returned was carrying a plate of cold chicken and some fruit.

  ‘It’s not much, but it will put some strength into you.’

  Both food and drink were almost immediately reviving. It was then that she saw she had nothing on but a man’s towelling wrap. She flushed. ‘Where are my clothes?’

  ‘They’ll be dry by now. Were you thinking of leaving?’

  ‘Of course. As long as you promise to get out of here before George Bruce comes.’

  There was the faint glimmer of a smile. ‘I must say this character Bruce grows more intriguing by the minute. What is he, monster or genius? I probably can’t cope with either of those, but I could cope with a human, even a rude one. Even if he’s a reporter,’ he said as an afterthought.

  She slumped a little, turning away. ‘Don’t joke, please, Richard, it’s serious. I couldn’t bear it if...’

  ‘What couldn’t you bear?’ Abruptly his voice changed and roughened, and then his arms were gripping her shoulders. ‘That I should be hurt by a rotten little reporter? You must be out of your mind, Jess, to bother with me after the way I treated you. You see,’ and there was a sudden tremor in his voice, ‘I realize now that I always hurt the people I love. It must be in my make-up.’

  For just a second Jess could not believe her ears, then she did the only possible thing. She put her arms round him and drew his head down to her breast. ‘I deserved all the hurt you gave me,’ she whispered. ‘I could never believe you would really forgive me.’

  ‘Forgive you! ’he cried. ‘How could I help forgive you when I love you? The only reason I didn’t come running after you to England was because I was so ashamed. I couldn’t bear to face the disgust in your eyes.’

  That makes two of us, she thought.

  When they drew apart her face was wet with tears.

  ‘You’re crying again,’ he accused her.

  ‘Only because I’m happy. How did you find me, Richard?’

  ‘I was looking for you. Carlo got a message up to the top that you were trying to get here. Someone brought it to me, but I don’t think he believed anyone would be so mad. I don’t think I did, either, but I had to go and see. I heard you scream as you fell.’

  It was his turn to kiss her and cradle her in his arms. She had never felt so secure in her life. Richard was here with her and he loved her.

  A long time later he said softly, ‘How would you feel about living in the States?’

  ‘With you, anywhere,’ she said happily. ‘Then you’re thinking seriously about Dr. Hamilton’s suggestion?’

  ‘Yes, I have a lot of things in my old life to think seriously about.’ He looked regretfully round. ‘It’s really time I packed up here—and not because of any reporters. Thanks to you I’m going to start to live again. Hamilton told me in his letter what you were trying to do. He was so full of praise for you I was even jealous of that.’

  ‘You don’t bear any grudge against him?’ she said anxiously.

  He shook his head. ‘No. It’s very easy to panic in a difficult situation. And at that time there were warring factions in the hospital. We were all at fault.’ He kissed her again. ‘You do know you’ll have a lot to put up with?’

  ‘And you don’t know what it will be like living with a tough newspaperwoman!’

  He helped her up and she went to the back room to wash and dress. When she was nearly ready he called out casually, ‘Would a big, ginger-headed fellow coming up the path be your monster Bruce?’

  She ran to his side. ‘Oh, Richard, yes, what are you going to do?’

  ‘First I’m going to kiss you because you look so beautiful. Then we’re going to open this door and tell your reporter friend that I’ve decided to give you an exclusive on the story after all—that is, if you really think I still have something to say. We might even ask the poor fellow in for a drink since he’s come a long way for nothing. You see, darling, nothing ever seems quite so bad after all if there are two of you to face it together.’ Hand in hand they went to the door and stood waiting in the bright sunlight.

 

 

 
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