Leah can’t quite believe that she’s walked this far, and has just virtually abseiled down a rope hanging over a cliff and is still alive. It’s taking a summer project she conjured up on a whim to a bit of an extreme, she thinks. When did she last do anything half as active? She hadn’t realized Simon was such an outdoors freak. But it’s also strangely exhilarating — swinging for a second out over the cliff, before gravity pulls her down and Simon helps her find footholds in the cliffside. And down on the rocks here it’s fantastic. The morning’s rain has completely cleared away; the wet rocks have dried in the midday sun, and in the shelter of the cliff there’s no wind. She rolls up her trousers, slips off her shoes. It’s the perfect place for sunbathing. If she can remember the way and steel her nerve for that descent on the rope, she could come here by herself another time and strip right down, tan herself all over.
She watches Simon. He’s sitting with his legs dangling over the platform of rock, half turned away, facing a small cove of sparkling sea.
‘Is there a way down? A beach?’ she asks him.
He shakes his head. ‘But you can swim off the rocks. It’s hard to get out again, though. The rocks are sharp.’
The water looks so inviting. Little waves curl in past the headland into the cove and smooth themselves out over the sandy seabed. A private swimming place. And the rocks to stretch out on and dry afterwards.
Eyes closed, Leah imagines she’s here with the man from the bookshop. Matt. Being an artist, he’s sketching the landscape, and sketching her. Drawings for a future sculpture. He runs his hand over her shoulder to get the feel of the bone, the shape beneath the skin. Her flesh feels as if it’s melting under the warmth of his hand. She can feel his breath on her face. Her hair shifts in the breeze, strokes his cheek. He moves closer, leans over her.
‘I might swim,’ Simon says, but he doesn’t move.
Leah imagines Matt diving in off the rocks, and her diving after him (somehow, miraculously, she will know how to dive) and her hair streaming out after her like a mermaid.
Leah shivers. A cloud has temporarily covered the sun. She opens her eyes. The rocks look dark. Simon is hunched over, his arms round his knees, staring at the water.
‘Well,’ Leah says. ‘If you do, I will. When the sun comes back out.’
‘Will what?’
‘Swim. Off the rocks.’
‘It’s freezing,’ Simon says.
‘How do you know?’
‘Done it before.’
Leah picks her way over the rocks towards him. They are warm to her bare feet. She dips a toe in one of the pools left in a crevice. A tiny fish shoots beneath the weed fringe. The water’s quite warm.
‘What about the tides and currents and that?’ Leah says. ‘Is it safe to swim?’
‘It’s OK if the tide’s really low,’ Simon says. ‘Like now. You can see the sandy bottom really clearly.’
‘Go on, then,’ Leah says.
He looks afraid. It’s her, not the sea, that frightens him, she can tell. She backs off slightly.
‘You go in and tell me what it’s like. I won’t watch while you get your things off.’
He’s obviously not intending to take anything off — only his boots and socks, and maybe his T-shirt. She pretends not to look.
He doesn’t dive; he lowers himself, first on to the shelf of rocks below, and then over the edge into the water. She sees him wince as his feet break the surface, hesitate, then he lowers himself right in and his face goes a sort of purple. He gasps, a spontaneous, uncontrolled yelp.
‘Cold?’ Leah leans over to watch as he starts to swim.
‘Freezing!’ His voice echoes.
Leah scrambles down to the lower rocks herself. It’s cooler already, closer to the water. Maybe she won’t swim after all.
Simon has crossed the tiny cove doing crawl; he now returns on his back and floats a moment, grinning up at her. ‘Nice once you’re in,’ he lies. ‘Chicken.’
‘OK then, I’ll show you.’ Leah steps neatly out of her jeans, folds them, leaves them next to Simon’s boots. Her legs are tanned and smooth, warm from the sun. She slips herself over the edge and shrieks at the shock of the water, then starts to swim. It’s so cold it hurts. She can’t bear it for long. She does her silly, inefficient breaststroke with her head sticking up above the water, round into the shallowest part of the cove and then back, and starts to pull herself out. It isn’t that easy. She keeps losing her grip. The waves, even though they are small, push at her and then the current drags her back. Her legs scrape against the barnacled surface of the rock. Simon swims up behind her to help. She’s gasping from the cold, shivering all over. Her fingers are blue-white.
‘Help me up!’ Her teeth chatter.
Simon holds her feet steady and helps shove her up over the ledge. Tiny threads of blood mix with the seawater streaming off her body.
She’s trembling all over, and then as the blood starts rushing back into her numb hands and feet it feels as if her whole body’s on fire. She starts to laugh.
‘Give us a hand, then,’ Simon shouts up.
She pulls him up and he stands next to her, his clothes plastered to his skinny limbs, a huge wet puddle forming at his feet.
Looking at him makes her laugh more.
He’s so helpless, such a drowned rat, standing there with this gormless look. Leah wriggles into her dry jeans and climbs up a level to a warm sunny spot against the cliff. She’ll spare him the misery of peeling off wet clothes in front of her. She quickly takes off her own top and puts on her dry sweatshirt, wrings out the ends of her wet hair, spreads her wet top over the rocks to dry. She feels amazing. It’s as if the dip into the sea has brought her back to life. Energy fizzles down her veins. She’s actually enjoying herself!
Simon flops next to her. Fully clothed, completely soaked.
Leah squeals. ‘Get away! You’ll make me all wet again!’
He rubs his wet torso with his one dry garment — the T-shirt. ‘I’ll dry in the sun,’ he explains.
‘Take the jeans off at least, Si,’ Leah tells him. ‘I can’t see anything, not if you’ve got that huge T-shirt on.’
The mood between them has lightened. Simon does a silly sort of dance, one wet foot to the other, flapping at her, and she laughs for real. He turns his back to her to strip off the soaked jeans.
‘We’ll have to stay here till they dry,’ he teases.
‘What’s the time, anyway?’
‘No idea.’
‘I’m supposed to be shopping.’ Leah giggles.
They both lie there with their eyes shut, and their wet clothes steam in the sun. The sun’s high in the sky; it must be early afternoon. Leah’s face begins to burn. She moves Simon’s boots so they make some shadow for her. She’s warmed right through now. Strangely, unexpectedly, she feels completely content. It’s been a long time since she’s felt this way. High above them, a bird swoops and soars against a blue sky. It calls, a thin high mewing sound.
A slight shift of light and shadow makes her open her eyes. Simon’s got up; he’s wandering over the platform of rocks, searching for something. She watches him: his skinny legs under the long T-shirt, his huge feet, like a puppy with lots of growing still to do. His skin has the faint flush of sunburn which you know will deepen and redden as the day wears on. By nightfall it’ll be itchy and unbearable.