Knife Edge (3 page)

Kim turned away to look out of the window again. She heard him pause, then come back over. His touch was gentle, fingertips lightly brushing her upper arms, then the familiar kiss on the top of her head as he stood behind her. Wearily, she leaned back a little, then relaxed and let her head rest against his chest. His arms circled her protectively and she clasped them in her hands as her eyelids gratefully closed.

It was a difficult descent. The path was an uneven ribbon of packed earth and loose stones that snaked steeply down between ledges in the towering limestone cliffs. Treacherous in places, always narrow, it followed the twisted strata of the rock face, where great ripples of stone bent back on themselves, frozen in tortuous folds. Rob went ahead of her, carrying the rucksack, sure of his footing, leading her down under the shadow of the precipice. The rush of the waves drifted up from below, and she could almost feel the spray on her face as she followed him around a jagged outcrop. Now the path narrowed even further, and she could see the sheer, dizzying drop on her right-hand side. It was still a long way down, and instinct seized her, forcing her to lean back from the edge.

‘Stay with me,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘There’s a couple of difficult places but it gets easier.’

Kim tensed, her fingers grasping at the tufts of rough grass that sprouted from the cliff wall beside her. Glancing down at the beach, she swallowed hard, her breathing quickening.

Shit!

Adrenalin coursed through her, rousing her from the numbness, making her want to cry out. A sudden rush of indistinct thoughts flickered through her mind as she wondered what would happen if she just pushed herself out into the emptiness …

‘Kim!’

She tore her gaze away from the drop. Rob had turned back, his eyes full of care, his arm outstretched towards her. For a moment, she remained pressed against the cliff, but she knew that turning back would be impossible. Slowly, carefully, she reached out and took his hand. As his fingers clasped hers, his grip definite and firm, she glanced downward – suddenly the drop didn’t look so terrifying, but there was still a cold knot in her stomach.

‘You’re OK,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve got you.’

The beach curved away in a long tapering arc, smoothly encircling the bay and funnelling the waves so that they crashed and tumbled through the jutting rocks at the far end. From down here she could see the stripes and creases on the cliffs, great folds of ancient stone twisted into eerie shapes. The path they’d followed was a thin scar against the strata of the rock face. It didn’t look as though they’d come that far until she spotted the tiny dark smudges – a line of overgrown gorse bushes they’d walked around – and realised the scale of it, how far down they were.

She moved slowly now, smooth stones and shingle crunching underfoot as they made their way out from the shadow of the cliffs and down towards the water. He matched her languid pace, walking at her side, his hand almost brushing against hers …

… in case she wanted to hold it.

They clambered over long fingers of water-worn rock, continuations of a seam from the cliff that cut across the beach, and stepped across the line of slick dark seaweed that marked the tide’s reach. The steady wash of the waves was soothing, and the smell of the beach recalled childhood holidays and stories of smugglers.

Kim turned her head away from Rob to stare out at the sea, her pace slowing as she watched the dark green water catch the light. A ribbon of bubbles slid towards her feet, slowing and stretching as the water lost its way among the pebbles, lingering for a moment before the undercurrent drew it back. She watched it gently pick up speed, accelerating as though falling away from her until it was lost in the swell of another wave. Impossible to hold on to, like the thoughts that swirled and eddied in her mind.

She heard the crunch of Rob’s footsteps as he slowly started to move on, but stood a moment longer, staring down at the waves.

‘Kim?’

She looked up and gave him a faint nod, before turning to follow him. They meandered along the wet shingle, out of reach of most of the waves, sidestepping the bigger ones as they came.

At the far end of the bay, the cliffs marched down towards the water. Rob jogged down to a huge, flat-topped rock, its sides dark and wet, a skirt of seaweed about its base. Shrugging off the rucksack, he hefted it up and pushed it onto the smooth stone surface. Then, putting one hand on the rock, he vaulted up onto it himself, before the next wave could touch his feet. Steadying himself, he turned back to her.

‘Come here,’ he called. ‘Quick, before the next wave.’

‘What is it?’ she replied, scampering over the slippery pebbles to join him.

‘Give me your hand,’ he smiled, his strong grip quickly settling on her wrist. ‘And up you come!’

‘Rob!’ She squealed with surprise as her feet left the ground. He lifted her up and round, straining to be gentle as he placed her on the stone beside him. She grabbed him as she regained her balance, then stood up straight.

‘You could have warned me,’ she protested. It had been oddly exhilarating, and she forgot herself for a moment, grinning foolishly as she gave him a playful thump on his arm.

He was staring at her thoughtfully as they caught their breath.

‘It’s good to see you smiling,’ he said softly.

The top of the rock was smooth and cool, dark grey with thin veins of silver and brown. A small bowl-shaped depression retained a mirror of seawater, spray collected at the last high tide, but the rest was dry.

Rob sat down, cross-legged, and began to unzip the rucksack.

‘What about the tide?’ Kim asked, looking at the waves that licked up against the seaward base of the rock. ‘We don’t want to get caught here.’

He squinted up at her, shielding his eyes against the light, and shook his head slightly.

‘We won’t,’ he smiled. ‘Tide’s on its way out.’

She peered back along the beach, wondering how he knew, then shrugged to herself.

Somehow he always knew.

She sat down opposite him, tucking her feet under her as he placed a pair of plastic glasses between them and opened the wine. Her fingers trailed through the cold water in the depression, rippling it then watching it settle again. She brought a finger to her lips, tasting the salt as a droplet touched her tongue.

‘This might be better.’ Rob was looking at her, a glass of wine in his outstretched hand. She took it from him, holding it by the stem as she tilted it this way and that to catch the light. He reached across with his own glass, tapping it against hers before drinking, but today there was no toast, no light words.

He was better than that.

She glanced across, her eyes resting on him while he stared out at the waves. He was taking things easy with her, she realised. Giving her time – some breathing space – while she dealt with what he’d told her. So patient, so intense. Looking at him, she was struck by the
presence
that seemed to emanate from him.

And now she was beginning to understand why.

She wasn’t really hungry, but she didn’t refuse the food he offered. There was crusty bread, and French Brie, and grapes – his idea of her favourites – and the sea air made everything taste good. She poured them both another glass of wine and ate in silence, her eyes drawn to the distant horizon and upwards to where small clouds drifted across the sky, mottling the rippling water with shadows. Gulls were wheeling above them, riding a fresh breeze that had crept in from the sea, harsh cries echoing back off the cliffs behind her. She watched them circling, silhouetted shapes against the clouds, wondering how they could appear so dark when she knew they were white.

‘Are you cold?’

Rob was looking at her, and she realised that she had been hugging her arms about herself.

‘I’m OK,’ she replied.

He got up onto his knees and leaned across to touch her bare forearm, his fingers brushing her skin.

‘You’re shivering.’ He rolled back onto his feet and stood up, another silhouette against the sky, quickly slipping off his jacket and stepping round to drape it over her shoulders. ‘There you are.’

Kim reached up and drew the jacket around her, welcoming the warmth of his body still held in the material.

Always thinking of her.

She watched him as he sat down again, catching his eye as he reached over to retrieve his glass. He looked at her quizzically, reading something in her face.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

She looked down, frowning slightly, trying to clarify her own thoughts.

‘You really
do
care for me, don’t you?’ Watching him now, half questioning, half believing.

He stared back at her for a moment, then set down his glass and reached out to take her hands gently in his own. His eyes were close to hers, clear, unblinking.

‘I do,’ he said softly. ‘More than you could ever guess.’

She forced herself to return his smile until he looked away, then continued toying with her glass as she tried to make sense of everything.

Had she been stupid? Given herself to a man she didn’t know? No, it wasn’t possible – what she’d felt must have been real, at least in some part. And she was sure, even now, that it wasn’t just her – he felt something for her too. Nobody could fake that, not long-term – she’d have seen through it.

And yet, he’d hidden something so terrible from her. And she’d had no idea …

She bit her lip again, small fingers reaching up to twirl a strand of hair.

… or had she? Had she been so preoccupied about him cheating on her that she’d missed everything else? So busy telling herself that he wouldn’t be unfaithful that she’d drowned out the other warnings?

Kim closed her eyes.

Perhaps he’d been more honest than she had. Perhaps she’d always suspected, but had pushed it all under the carpet, lying to herself. What did that make her?

‘Hey.’ His voice seemed calm, but he was looking at her intently, his head inclined. ‘Did you want to talk?’

Caught off guard, she could only stare at him blankly.

How was she meant to respond to this? Where did she even begin?

He nodded and looked down.

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to …’ He trailed off, his hand drifting up to rub absently at his jaw.

Kim blinked and breathed. His silence cried out for her to say something.

‘Are you going to tell me … what happened?’ she managed.

His eyes flickered up to hers for a second, then down again.

‘I don’t want to lie to you, Kim.’ It was strange to hear that tentative note in his voice, as though he was wary of each word. ‘I want you to know, I need you to
understand
, but …’

He shook his head, frowning, considering how to proceed.

‘… not details. Not yet, anyway.’ His eyes found hers. ‘Let me tell you about that in my own time, OK?’

She found herself nodding. There was an unfamiliar vulnerability in his expression that touched something inside her – his determination to share something so secret with her spoke of profound closeness and staggering trust. For a moment, she was overwhelmed by how hard it must be for him, and what it meant. And yet, it was impossible not to ask him.

‘Can you tell me why?’

She watched as he wrestled with the question, his brows tightening to a pained frown. Finally, his shoulders dropped and he sighed.

‘It’s … complicated. I want to share everything with you, really, but it’s not easy to explain …’

He looked at her for a moment, frustration tugging the corner of his mouth down, then lapsed into silence.

Kim nodded again, sensing the turmoil that he was in, but more desperate than ever to know something, anything. Anything that could help her to try and make sense of things. She had to ask him a question that he could answer. Nothing too specific, not yet, but something that would open the door a little wider.

‘Rob …?’

He waited, staring down at his glass, one finger tracing a slow circuit around the rim. She hesitated, then spoke the words.

‘What was it like?’

Now it was his turn to be caught off balance. Something in his expression seemed to come alive as he looked at her, took a deep breath, then turned his head towards the sea. When he finally spoke, his voice had a soft, almost reverent tone.

‘It’s … incredible. You have no idea.’

She watched him, fascinated, unable to look away as that light came into his eyes. What was he reliving? In that moment, for the first time, she wondered if she should be afraid of him – properly afraid. How strange that the idea hadn’t occurred to her before. But as he turned back to her, his face softened, intensity giving way to peace. He wasn’t going to hurt her.

As if by some unspoken agreement, they slid closer together, moving simultaneously like a normal couple would. He put his arm around her shoulder, nuzzling her hair as she rested her head against him, and stared out at the sea. His chest felt warm against her cheek, and she could hear his heartbeat, steady and calm, as his hand stroked her arm.

He cared for her. She mustn’t lose him.

Anything was better than being alone. Even this.

She came out of the bathroom and padded through to the bedroom. He was already in bed, his broad chest bare above the duvet. His eyes followed her for a moment, then turned away as she made her way across to the tiny dressing table.

From the beginning, he’d always encouraged her to sleep without clothes. He’d ignored her self-conscious nature, seeming to delight in her naked form. At first, she’d felt terribly exposed, though in time she began to find his attention gratifying and there was a strange thrill in submitting to him. But tonight, she felt different, oddly uncomfortable, as she had done back when they’d first met.

She placed her make-up bag on the table, looking at her reflection in the mirror – so ordinary, so
plain
. Was he watching her now, his eyes on her back as she hesitated? She bit her lip and her shoulders dropped a little. She found herself hoping that he was.

Slowly, she pulled her top up and over her head, and began to undress.