by Anne Weale
‘We forgot to watch the sunset,’ said Neal, stepping into her room after she had responded to his tap on the door. ‘We mustn’t miss tomorrow’s sunrise.’
On the way to the house, she told him about the newcomers. ‘Do you speak French?’
‘I can get by. Do you?’
‘I know the French for e-mail is “mel” from message électronique but that’s my limit.’
‘The chances are they’ll speak English,’ he said. ‘Either way, who needs them? I’m happy talking to you.’ He reached for her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm.
After he had bought drinks and carried them to the table where they had lunched, Neal said, ‘I’d better take a look at Maureen.’
The painting group were still in their rooms and the French couple were sitting in the well where Neal and Sarah had had coffee. But while he was upstairs, the woman appeared round the corner, a glass of wine in her hand, and came to speak to Sarah.
‘Have you been here long?’ She spoke English with only a slight accent.
‘We arrived this morning...from Kathmandu,’ Sarah said. ‘Where have you come from?’
‘We have been climbing Mera. We were lucky. As we came down the weather changed. I think those going up would not reach the summit.’
A slender woman in her early thirties, she didn’t look the rugged type. Her companion, who now came to join her, was older by twenty years with grey hair and a trimmed beard.
‘Good evening, madame.’ He bowed. ‘You have eaten here? Is the food good? We are very hungry after climbing a mountain.’
‘We’ve had lunch here. I enjoyed it. I don’t think they have the facilities to cook anything elaborate.’
‘Whatever it’s like, it will be an improvement on the meals prepared by our Sherpa cook,’ said the Frenchwoman. ‘He was doing his best, but cooking is very difficult in those conditions. I am Maxine and this is Gérard.’
‘I’m Sarah.’ She sensed they were waiting to be asked to sit down but she wasn’t sure if Neal would want that. At that moment, to her relief, he came down the stairs and joined them. Soon after being introduced, he invited the French couple to join them. Whether or not he wished to, courtesy made it unavoidable when the others were clearly eager for conversation.
They turned out to be very good company. Gérard was an executive with one of the biggest supermarket chains in France, but felt he had missed his vocation and should have been a mountaineer.
‘I am past the age when a career change is possible,’ he said, with a very Gallic shrug, ‘but at least I can spend my holidays in the mountains.’
While they were having dinner together, Maxine revealed herself as a computer programmer. Although her job was far more technical than Sarah’s, they were worksing in different areas of the same sphere.
It was a convivial evening but none of them wanted to make a late night of it. Gérard and Maxine had had a long day and were tired. Neal and Sarah had other reasons for wanting to go to bed early.
The French couple left the house first. Neal had already organised transport for himself and Maureen and made the arrangements for the X-ray. They would leave after breakfast and, he hoped, be back before lunch.
Walking back to the annexe, he said, ‘Bring what you need for the night to my room.’ He ran a hand over his chin. ‘I need another shave...don’t want to chafe your skin.’
The remark reminded her of the feel of his cheeks against the delicate skin at the tops of her thighs and of the exquisite sensations a little later. But nightfall had brought a sharp drop in the temperature. It was now very cold and the rooms had no heating. Even the most ardent lovers might feel some reluctance to shed their clothes in such conditions. Had she been on her own, she would have been going to bed in her thermals and socks.
She brushed her teeth in her bathroom, then locked up and went next door, knocking before she went in. There was now what appeared to be a double sleeping bag spread on the bed. Looking more closely, she saw that it was actually two single bags opened out and zipped together.
Neal strolled out of the bathroom in the white T-shirt he had been wearing under his shirt at dinner. It emphasised his tanned skin. The short sleeves ended where there was a swell of muscle, not the exaggerated biceps of the iron-pumpers but the gentler and more aesthetically pleasing bulge of an arm exercised in a more natural way.
After she had put down her things, he said, ‘Does this feel better?’ and caught her wrists in order to place her hands against his newly-shaved cheeks. ‘I haven’t any aftershave to put on, I’m afraid. It’s a luxury I don’t have space for on this trip.’
As he dropped his hands, she kept hers where they were, her fingertips on the strongly-marked slant of his cheekbones. ‘I like your natural smell. I don’t need aftershave to turn me on. You do that by looking at me.’
He gave her a long intent look. ‘You ’ave zee same effect on me, madame,‘ he said, in a good imitation of Gérard’s accent. Then, in his own voice, ‘The bathroom’s all yours. I’ll be warming the bag for you.’
Taking her hands, he ran his lips over her knuckles. ‘Don’t be too long. I’ve been wanting to make love to you for the past couple of hours.’
When she emerged from the bathroom, the room was in darkness apart from a beam of light from a head-torch she had noticed lying on the night table. It was pointed at the far wall so as not to dazzle her.
She had decided there was no point in putting on a nightdress only to have it whipped off her, and anyway it was only marginally colder without it than with it. She didn’t have to stand shivering, wondering how to wriggle her way into the bag, for long. It opened for her. She dived in and a moment later had the additional covering of Neal’s warm body lying over hers. He closed the zip. Briefly, there was a draught as he stretched a long arm to switch off the torch. Then they were both cocooned in a dark downy nest which, now she was in it, she wouldn’t have changed for a centrally-heated suite in the world’s most luxurious hotel.
In the early hours of the morning Neal was woken by his pager. He shut it off, hoping neither the sound nor his movements had disturbed Sarah. But it was soon apparent that she was deeply asleep and unlikely to be woken by the head-torch if he kept its beam low and pointed at the floor.
Quickly and quietly he put on some clothes and his boots. Outside it was very cold but there were no clouds and the sky was brilliant with stars, promising a clear sunrise.
He had given Delia firm instructions to call him at any hour should her sister’s condition give her any cause for alarm. But in his experience, the female sex could be classified in one of two broad groups.
There were those who rushed their children to a doctor at the first sign of a sore throat, demanding antibiotics. And there were the others who dealt with all minor ailments themselves and even when seriously ill shrank from ‘being a nuisance’. Delia and Maureen belonged to the second category.
Walking on the grass, he went round the house to look up at their bedroom window. There was no light showing. Satisfied that they were having a peaceful night, he returned to his own bed.
For a while he lay awake, warming his cold hands by tucking them under his armpits, thinking about the woman asleep beside him. In terms of factual information, he knew more about Gérard and Maxine than he did about Sarah.
Not that the verbal CVs that people gave out about themselves were as important or revealing as their unconscious messages.
Simply by being with her, he knew a lot about Sarah’s character and her instincts. Especially her instincts, he thought, smiling to himself.
Each time they made love she was increasingly generous in giving pleasure as well as receiving it. He had never known anyone more passionate or more imaginative. The promise of her lovely mouth, first noticed on the plane, had already been amply fulfilled.
Another thing he had learned about her since they came here was that she had given birth. It left signs on a woman’s body that might not be recognisable
to a layman but any doctor would recognise at once.
Why it was something she didn’t speak of he could only guess. Perhaps the child had been stillborn or had died later. Whatever, it was clearly something she didn’t wish to confide to him.
His hands warm, he turned on his side, sliding one under the pillow and putting his other arm round her while shifting his body closer.
The smooth silky warmth of her back against his chest and lower body made him feel wider awake than the sharp air in the garden. His hand wandered over her belly and up to the softness of her breasts. He was tempted to wake her with a caress he knew she liked Then he decided she needed her sleep and it would be better to wait until morning.
Their time together was short, but not that short.
Next day, after watching the sunrise over the Himalaya, they went back to bed and made love before breakfast.
Later, learning that Sarah would be on her own that morning, Maxine invited her to join them on a walk to a lookout tower on the summit of the Nagarkot ridge. Sarah was feeling lazy after what, by her standards, had been an unprecedented debauch, but she felt the walk would restore her energies more effectively than relaxing at the farm and perhaps being bothered by Roger.
Neal and the sisters were already back when the walkers returned. One of the painters told Sarah that Delia was putting Maureen to bed and Neal had gone to his room.
Following him there, Sarah found him writing postcards.
‘Did the X-ray confirm your diagnosis?’ she asked, after they had kissed.
He nodded. ‘She’ll need a lot of rest until her lungs are clear. At her age pneumonia can really knock the stuffing out of people. Whether she’ll be fit to fly back with the others is a bit doubtful. Maybe we can pull strings and get her upgraded to first class. That takes a lot of the aggro out of a long flight. How was your morning?’
‘Energetic! They set a cracking pace.’
‘In that case I advise that you take it easy this afternoon. Bed rest and lots of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.’
His teasing lit a warm glow inside her. It was then she knew she had fallen irreversibly in love with him.
That evening the sunset matched the sunrise in its beauty and grandeur.
To see five of the world’s ten highest peaks among many other mountain tops was, on its own, one of life’s major experiences, thought Sarah, as she got ready for dinner. To have recognised love for what it was made the day even more unforgettable.
Again they shared a table with the French couple. With Gérard present the conversation never strayed far from mountains and climbing. His hero was Anatoli Boukreev, the famous Russian mountaineer who had died in an avalanche on Annapurna after a Christmas Day avalanche.
Neal and Maxine were equally admiring of the Russian’s achievements and explained them to Sarah.
‘Instead of becoming weaker at high altitudes, as most people do,’ said Neal, ‘Boukreev seemed to get stronger. They called him “a lung with legs”.’
‘But, however good they are, not many top-class climbers survive to old age,‘ said Gérard. ’Boukreev was only thirty-nine, a year older than your compatriot Kennedy. He also was a king among climbers.’
They had not exchanged surnames. He was unaware that the man he spoke of bore the same last name as Neal.
‘I don’t like to think about death...all those frozen bodies out there on the mountains for ever,’ said Maxine, with a shiver. ‘Let’s talk about something more cheerful. While you were in Kathmandu, did you see any of the embroidery they call “crewel”, Sarah? I’d like to buy some for curtains.’
‘Women! They can never go anywhere without wanting to shop,’ Gérard said, with a theatrical groan.
They all laughed. Only Sarah was aware that Neal, although he had spoken freely of Boukreev, had let down some kind of internal blind when the English climber was mentioned. His eyes, usually bright with interest or humour, had all at once gone strangely blank.
CHAPTER SIX
THEIR French friends were leaving next day. When they had said goodnight to them and were alone in Neal’s room, he said, ‘You may have had enough of being here, but if you can bear it I’d like to hang on for another twenty-four hours to make sure Maureen is responding to the medication I’ve given her.’
‘I’m happy to stay for as long as you like,’ she said, smiling. ‘I like it...despite the cold showers. There’s more to life than hot water and gourmet food.’
He put his arms round her. ‘Such as?’
She slid her arms round his neck. ‘Such as this...and that—’ with a look indicating the sleeping bags. ‘I wonder what the cleaning people thought about the beds being pushed together?’
‘I should think it happens all the time, at least when the rooms are being used by people of opposite sexes.’
‘If we’re going to stay a bit, wouldn’t it make sense to cancel the other room and share this one?’
‘OK, I’ll do that tomorrow.’
‘I don’t understand why you booked two rooms?’
‘In case you changed your mind at the last moment and there wasn’t another room free. Somehow I had the feeling that you weren’t too sure about this situation.’
‘No, I wasn’t But I am now. It was a good decision. I’m enjoying it’
‘I hoped you would.’
Sarah laughed. ‘You never had the smallest doubt of it, you cocksure beast.’
As Neal raised an eyebrow she recognised the unintentional double entendre and couldn’t help blushing, even though she knew he was only pretending to be shocked.
He chuckled and hugged her close. ‘You’ve led a sheltered life, Sarah. Most of the women journalists I come across say things that would curl your hair. They curl mine sometimes.’
Until that moment she hadn’t consciously realised that he never used the words she hated hearing from Matthew. Not that she ever made a fuss about it. Her own puritanical upbringing had made her, perhaps, too easy-going with her son. She had hoped, was still hoping, he would grow out of the phase of wanting to shock his elders. But he hadn’t so far.
Her cheek against Neal’s chest, she thought how great it would be if she could confide her problems and ask his advice. But that wasn’t on the agenda This relationship they were having was strictly short-term, strictly for laughs.
After a moment, she said, ‘Anyway you were quite right. You’re a terrific lover. I can’t speak from wide experience, but I’ve never had such a great time in bed.’ She lifted her face. ‘Isn’t it time we were in bed?’
‘High time!’
During the night she woke up and found him missing. Had he gone to the bathroom?
When, some minutes later, it was the room door that opened, it gave her a momentary fright until she realised it was Neal coming in, not an intruder.
‘Where have you been?’ she asked in an undertone, fearing a normal voice might disturb their neighbours.
‘Just checking.’
Once back inside the bags, he explained more fully. ‘The early hours of the morning are the time when sick people tend to wake up. Sometimes they get in a panic and need reassuring.’
‘Maureen has Delia to calm her.’
‘Delia might get worried too, but not like to wake me. Anyway they’re both fast asleep. What woke you up?’
‘I don’t know. Some night noise maybe. You must be freezing. Let me warm you.’
‘It’s only my hands that are cold.’
‘Put them here.’ She seized them and tucked them between her thighs, stifling a gasp as his chilled fingers met her warm flesh.
‘Mm... that feels wonderful. Where can I put my cold nose?’
‘Here.’ She put her arms round him and drew his head down to her breasts.
For a little while Neal let her warm him, but soon his hands started to move and his lips to search the soft curves where his head had been pillowed. With a sigh of pleasure she surrendered her body to his caresses, secure in the knowledge that
, with him, she wouldn’t be left in the air when, his own needs satisfied, he went back to sleep.
Each time they made love she reached fever-pitch more quickly. Soon she had to grab the pillow and pull it over her face to smother the moans he forced from her. Her spine arched, she spread her legs, lost in that private place where the mind cut out, leaving only the senses in a whirl of rapturous sensations.
Time and again he drove her close to the brink but then stopped her and made her rest, tantalised almost beyond endurance, yet knowing, because he had shown her before, that every pause would intensify the final starburst of ecstasy.
When it was over, when she was momentarily spent, only then did he take her with a fierce driving force that quickly re-energised her with a need to drive him to the same brink and beyond.
The beds shuddered, jolted and creaked as their bodies lunged back and forth in the primeval ritual of mating. At the end, as she felt him convulse, Sarah experienced a piercing sense of loss because there could never be any logical outcome to their loving. This was all they could ever share, a few nights of glorious but ultimately sterile passion.
To her dismay she felt her eyes fill with tears her eyelids could not contain. They trailed down her cheeks and Neal, who was pressing soft kisses all over her face in a silent expression of thanks, felt their moisture with his cheeks.
But instead of withdrawing, repelled, as she feared he might, he became even more tender.
‘I’m sony...I don’t usually do this,’ she said, in a shaky whisper.
‘Perhaps you should,’ he said softly. ‘It does women good to cry.’
