‘You’ve got to be kidding, right? This has got to be one big fucking joke?’
I stare up at the immense simulated wall of rock in front of me, my stomach sinking to my boots. The footholds are an array of multicoloured pegs jutting out from the plastic grey rock face. It’s meant to look harmless, appealing and fun. It looks like hell. I can’t do this. I won’t. All my latent fears scramble to the surface, bubbling within me like boiling oil.
‘Oh, come on, Ade. Don’t tell me you’re scared? I thought a young lad like you would be right into this climbing malarkey. I booked this with you in mind!’
I can’t bring myself to look at Ruth, at her expectant gaze and faux jovial manner. What the fuck was she thinking, expecting us all to take part in something as taxing and, quite frankly, as juvenile as this? I’m a buyer in an engineering firm, not a bloody athlete. Merriel is probably clapping her hands with glee at the sight of it. Even Yvonne looks fit enough to scale it without missing a beat, but me? I’d rather dig out my own eyeballs with a blunt spoon than set foot on this fucking great monstrosity. And now, I have to risk losing face by refusing to take part. Either that, or I face my greatest fear, get myself hooked up to the harness and climb up there. Today is going to be one big bloody nightmare. I can just sense it. Every bone in my body is screaming at me to turn around and leave, every muscle and sinew straining to walk away from this place. Yet I can’t. I’m here and, whether I like it or not, I have to take part.
My eyes sweep across the room. Allison is looking up at the wall, her face blank and expressionless. I wonder if she is some sort of fitness freak with hidden strengths who will scale it in seconds, or is she, like me, staring up at it, her stomach a mass of hot swirling liquid at the thought of having to go up there? And then there’s Yvonne who looks as if she is ready to slap somebody, her face flushed, her eyes dark and angry-looking. Merriel seems to be the only one who is sizing it up, ready to head up there without breaking a sweat, although even she looks on edge, her eyes darting around the room like a cornered animal ready to lash out and pounce before looking back to the cartoon-like rock face, her neck craning upwards at the sheer scale of it.
‘Scared of heights, then?’ Ruth has inched closer to me, is nudging me affably, her eyes twinkling with good humour. I want to push her away, to tell her to fuck right off and that maybe she should set a good example by going first. But not before I loosen her harness and watch her fall. I swat that thought away. Cruel and unnecessary. Yet the sight of Ruth sailing through the air, limbs flailing, eyes bulging with terror, lingers in my mind. The sound her body makes as she hits the floor, her spine breaking in half, like the crack of a whip.
‘Yes and no.’ I’m not prepared to reveal my dread, to show everyone my innermost fears. ‘Probably as much as the next person.’ My voice is husky. I can’t look at her. I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing through the cracks in my armour to the soft, frightened boy underneath. To the soft, frightened boy who was held upside down over a bridge by his drunken brute of a father. I remember it as if it were yesterday – the blackness beneath me, the cold wind lapping around my face, the sudden rush of blood to my head. The absolute unutterable terror that he would let go and I would be enveloped by that dark, icy water, the swell of the current carrying me downstream as I gurgled and struggled to breathe before succumbing to the inevitable, death taking me before my rightful time.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing you scaling it like a feral cat,’ she says, thinking her words are droll and amusing. Expecting me to join in with her unsophisticated wit and rough-edged attempts at humour. She’s about as funny as a dose of the clap.
‘We can hold hands on the way up, Ruth. You and me scaling this thing together, eh? The pair of us setting an example and all that? After all,’ I say, trying to keep the animosity I feel for her out of my voice, ‘you need to show us all how it’s done since this was your idea. I mean, you can’t expect other people to do something that you would never do yourself, can you?’
I enjoy watching the colour leach from her face, am delighted to see a tremble take hold on her bottom lip as she replies.
‘Ordinarily I would jump at the chance but I’m here today to organise and facilitate this whole thing. Somebody needs to be in charge here, Adrian. We can’t all join in with the fun, you know!’
At this moment in time, I would gladly push her to the floor. For all I like Ruth, and I do, right now I find her condescending manner both irritating and downright insulting. Who does she think we are – a class of blank-minded schoolchildren awaiting her instructions before we’re allowed to go about our next set of tasks? Can she not see by our scowling faces that each and every one of us is here under duress?
‘I know I can count on you for a bit of support though. I mean, you were the one who said you wouldn’t have minded staying overnight to extend the session.’ She is smiling up at me, her small eyes twinkling with hope. ‘And you also agreed to chivvy everyone else along, didn’t you? We’re in this together, Ade. You and me. We’re a team, right?’
Stupid me. Stupid, stupid Adrian for trying to be the peacemaker and keep everyone happy. It’s what I do. Avoid conflict after a childhood riddled with it. I’ve witnessed enough fights and arguments to fill an entire lifetime and have no desire to see any more. And yet, there is an anger building up inside of me at the thought of being forced to scale this fucking huge wall. Risking my life on one of these things isn’t on my radar and never will be. Let those who’ve had an easy, sedentary life take all the risks. I’ve had more than my fair share. Enough for everybody in the room.
‘You do know that you’ll be clipped on to a safety harness, don’t you?’ She leans in and taps me on the arm affectionately. ‘I mean, after all, we don’t want to lose our best members of staff, do we?’
Her giggle is a shrill childish squawk that makes my flesh crawl. I want to run at her and smack her in the face, pull at her hair, make her cry. Anything to vent my anger. To release my deepest fears.
‘Right, everybody,’ she says loudly, moving away from me and striding towards the middle of the room. ‘We just need to run through a few housekeeping rules before I let our hosts take over. Ron and Dave here who run the climbing wall company will talk you through our first task and show you the ropes.’ A pause as she waits for her joke to be applauded. An awkward silence ensues, a toe-curling moment that makes me squirm with embarrassment on Ruth’s behalf. ‘So,’ she says, quickly skirting around the moment with a clap of her hands, ‘let’s get the day started with me telling you that a fire alarm isn’t planned for today, so if you do hear it go off, then we need to evacuate through the fire doors at the far end. The toilets are situated out on the corridor through the other double doors. We’ll take a comfort break at ten thirty-ish so if you can hang on until then, it will be very much appreciated. We want everyone to have a go at the climbing wall so no sneaking off to the bathroom in the hope of missing your turn!’
She is playfully wagging her finger and chuckling. I have a strong urge to slap the smirk off her face, to haul her out of the room and tell her to stop playing mind games with everyone, messing with their heads and dragging out horribly painful, long-buried memories. Ruth with her perfectly groomed little life, her cherubic little face and squeaky-clean childhood. An image of my father’s face lodges in my head – his twisted features, his hollow demonic laugh as he dangled me over that water, threatening to drop me if I didn’t stop crying and being such a baby. When he did finally stand me back up, I got a beating for not acting like a man, for being frightened of the water and that deep drop below me instead of laughing and braving it out. I was six years old.
We’re all forced to listen to a whole host of safety instructions before being asked to line up like a group of errant primary school pupils, Dave and Ron talking in an overly jocular manner at us as if we’re all old buddies at some kind of reunion party.
Merriel is first to be harnessed up. She looks calm and collected, if a little discombobulated. The scratch under her eye is healing well but the bruising around it looks like an angry welt, a dark purple smudge in stark contrast to her pale skin. With a startling amount of aplomb, she scales the wall, her arms and legs moving with such ease that it is actually soothing to watch, a therapy of sorts for those of us terrified of heights. It gives me a modicum of confidence observing her agility and speed. It can’t be all that difficult, can it? I’m not super-fit and certainly not as supple and strong as Merriel but neither am I a couch potato. Giving up the alcohol must stand for something, ridding my body of all those toxins. If I can just shut out my fears, silence the part of my brain that is screaming at me that the world will stop spinning if I try to climb that wall, then everything will be perfectly fine.
I won’t fall, I won’t fall, I won’t fall.
I’ll be harnessed up. Even if I do slip, then everything will be okay. I’ll simply spin and swing in mid-air.
Like being dangled from a bridge by my ankles by a drunken psychopath.
Bile rises up my gullet, burning at my oesophagus. I swallow, coughing hard to clear my throat, and stare up at Merriel as she rings the bell to indicate she has reached the top. It’s high. Jesus, it is so fucking high up there. And that stupid fucking bell, hanging there like the bloody sword of Damocles. A big fucking reminder that those who don’t reach it have failed in front of everyone in the room.
‘Okay, if we can have Adrian next, along with Yvonne, see if we can get a bit of healthy competition going here, eh?’ Dave slaps his thigh. He throws his head back and lets out a hearty chuckle. A few people join in, Ruth’s laugh an embarrassing guffaw. ‘How about a race to the top, guys?’
In my peripheral vision, I see Yvonne step forward, her features deadly serious, eyes dark with some emotion that I can’t work out. Simmering fury, perhaps? I know so little about her. She could have any number of things going on in her life that are rumbling around in her brain making her anxious and out of sorts. Maybe she is also scared of heights? Terrified that she will make a spectacle of herself in front of all our workmates. Maybe it’s not just me that’s scared shitless.
My legs are blocks of wood as I hobble forwards, trying to appear nonchalant while my innards are squirming like a nest of vipers, coiling and twisting in my gut.
I stand motionless, refusing to look up above me and step into the harness, all my attention focused on this piece of fabric that stands between keeping me safe at a great height and certain death if it fails. I watch, transfixed as it is tightened and attached to a metal clip and a length of rope. My eyes scan it for frays or signs of wear and tear.
‘Right, you’re good to go. Don’t forget to ring that bell when you get to the top.’
Ron slaps me on the shoulder as if we are old buddies. I suppress an urge to turn around and punch him square in the face. Is he doing this on purpose? Sensing my fear and exploiting it for comic effect and gain?
My palms are slippery. I don’t know how I’ll ever grip on to those holds, how I will ever get down if I do manage to get up there. This whole thing is beyond the pale. A stupid fucking idea put in place by a moronic woman who is standing there with a clipboard and an idiotic smile plastered across her face. She thinks this is bringing us together as colleagues and friends. She is wrong.
I step forward, do my best to swallow down my fears and start to climb.