“Hold tight,” he shouted, then squatting down he sprang up reaching as far as his arm would reach. Not enough. He tried again and again. His camera, hanging on its short strap bounced against his shoulder blade.
The water was now up to his ankles.
They can’t be defeated now!
“COME ON!” she shouted down above the sound of the waves.
He crouched down, bracing his hands on his knees, and seemed to be coiling himself. Then with a mighty jump, he finally managed to get one hand on the end of her sleeve and quickly braced one foot against the wall.
Reaching with his other hand to grab the jumper, he hauled himself up until both feet were against the wall. His full weight must have been too much for the weave because almost immediately, the sleeve began to rip.
If they lost the jumper, he would drown because there was nothing else to tie to the makeshift rope. Not even if she stripped off her bra and pants and used them too.
“Hurry!” She tried, and failed, to keep the fear out of her voice.
He did, he literally threw an arm up and grabbed the neck of the jumper and pulled himself up, his feet walking along the wall. Just in time as the sleeve he’d been holding tore completely and fell into the water.
“Please hurry before something else rips,” she whispered.
He didn’t need to hear her; if he had eyes and half a brain, he already knew. Her own knuckles were white where she grabbed the scarf wrapped around the rail with all her strength.
There were more tearing sounds; in fact, a bit more of the fabric ripped with every step he took along the stone wall. He only just managed to grab the end of the scarf before the skirt finally tore free and fell into the waves below.
“I got you.” Pierre reached a hand down.
He gripped her wrist hard; the pull nearly wrenched her arm out of its socket. For a slim young man, he weighed a tonne.
His palms began to sweat, or perhaps it was her own skin. Hauling with both hands, she tried to help him up, but he was too heavy for her.
“Just lean back,” he panted.
She scrunched her eyes shut and focused on not letting her hands slip as she braced her feet against the wall and leaned back.
There was a loud shout and the pull on her arms suddenly slackened. Terrified, she opened her eyes just in time to see him fling one leg over the windowsill. With another heave, he reached up and grabbed the safety bar and finally let go of her hands as he hoisted himself over the edge and fell onto the floor of the room and lay there sucking-in huge lungfuls of air.
Her wrists stung, the worst Chinese-burn in history! Her shoulders ached too, and only when she touched them did she realise she was standing in nothing but her bra and knickers.
Her clothes had fallen into the sea; only the scarf survived, still wrapped around the metal safety bar. Now that he was no longer in danger of falling to his death, lesser concerns made themselves heard. For example, being almost naked in a deserted ruin of a Welsh castle with a strange man.
Edging slowly around him, she tried reaching for her scarf. He simply lay there watching her, then rolled slightly to free his camera which had wedged under his neck. He undid the strap carefully and lifted it over his head.
“If you even think about taking a picture of me like this,” she warned him. “I swear I’ll kick you in the bollocks.”
He blinked.
He blinked again. “What? No, sorry, of course not. I was just moving it out of the way.” He sat up and shoved his camera away, taking care to unscrew the lens first.
Now that he was a safe distance away from the window, she unwound her scarf from the metal bar. The same metal bar put there to stop idiots like this man from jumping into the sea below.
The scarf had miraculously survived. She shook it then wrapped it around her, sarong-style. It reached to just below her hips like the shortest of minidresses.
“I’m horribly sorry about your clothes,” he said, standing up and facing away from her.
“Here, take this.” He pulled off his blue shirt and gave it to her. “It’s clean, I promise.” Underneath, he had on a short-sleeved t-shirt.
“I can’t take your clothes,” she said.
“Why not? You saved my life.” He busied himself finding his camera bag and checking his equipment before packing away his lenses.
