The London School of Journalism
By Deborah Griffith - 1st Place
I was only standing there for a few seconds when the woman next to me simply jumped off the platform. There was no warning. She left her hollering baby behind in a cheap, wickerwork crib, screaming for food, life, I don’t know, maybe even a mother who gave a damn.
The train was about thirty seconds away and crowds had begun to gather and scream hoarsely, which achieved nothing except to create a Mexican wave of chaos. I looked at the crazed woman who had stumbled awkwardly onto the tracks as she fell, her legs giving way beneath her. She looked frightened, her screaming crimson dress now billowing and as wild as her grey eyes. She looked at the baby, then at me and started to wail, a deep moaning which tore her lungs apart. I lay down on the platform and reached out my hand praying she would take it. She tentatively grasped at my hand, more feebly than I would have liked, but I honestly think the despair of the moment had sapped all of her strength. A porter was yelling at me to let go, I glimpsed the train out of my right eye and clung on. Somehow, I managed to pull the woman closer to the platform and held her tight as the train churned past, the driver’s eyes wide and glazed with horror, whistle blowing.
The entire station seemed to erupt as the train came to a dull stop. People came hurtling towards us. The relief was overwhelming and I felt warm tears not trickling, but spurting out of my eyes like some crazy image of Virgin Mary at Lourdes weeping blood. The woman went slack in my arms, but still I hung on. It took two policemen to unlock my arms so they could lift her off the track. Her wailing began again as did the baby’s. I was made to sit down on the platform bench, watching it all as my adrenaline continued to pump, feeling slightly nauseous. I had just saved a woman’s life, I should have felt euphoric, instead I felt like my heart was going to jump out of my chest and make a run for it. I could hear sirens as the ambulance arrived. Then the train driver staggered, as if drunk on life, towards the woman. He too had been crying. I wasn’t sure if he was going to embrace the woman or possibly kill her. Instead, he looked at her indifferently, as if she was a past girlfriend who had wronged him too often, nodded then walked away, wringed handkerchief in hand.
The tall policeman came up to me at last and smiled kindly, he muttered words that smacked of praise and bravery, my eyes were locked on the baby, still screaming, the woman hadn’t touched it. I managed to lift myself off the bench and went towards the crib, lifting the baby out and soothing it in the same arms that had just saved its mother. The baby girl, dressed in a pink romper stained with old milk, must have only been weeks old. Her crying instantly stopped and she looked into my eyes with despair at the life she had been given, pleading with me to take her home. Her mother was now causing another scene, her mind obviously in another land, causing more frustration as the paramedics tried to wrap a blanket around her and lead her away. She accused them of trying to put her in a straightjacket and amazingly found some energy to lash out at them, cursing them all the while. This caused the crowd to stay and watch rather than disperse.
This was it, I knew this would be my only chance. I quietly slipped through the crowds with the baby at my chest. Only one person stopped me and I confidently explained I was taking the baby to safety, to the ticket office, I stated the mother was unsettling the poor baby. After my heroic rescue, nobody doubted my motives. Naturally, I walked straight past the ticket office, heading towards the station car park. I opened my car door and realised I had no way of securing the baby in. I was too far gone to think rationally, I went into the boot and pulled out numerous fleeces and jackets and wrapped the baby in these and placed her on the floor in front of the passenger seat. The baby knew she was being rescued, she was smiling at me, utterly grateful to have a caring human being in her life.
I drove towards home when it suddenly occurred to me that I had no baby milk, no bottles, no teats, no clean clothes, no cot, hell no nappies. I indicated into the retail park swerving erratically into a mother and baby car park space. What to do, I couldn’t leave the baby here, that would attract unwanted attention. I would have to take her with me and hope that my buying of all these items in one go would not arouse suspicion. I wandered around the store, a grubby baby which I would normally be embarrassed to show off, was now being displayed with a clucking motherly pride. I bought the items and went to the till with the dopiest cashier, who was more intrigued with her cheap engagement ring, twisting it over and over, than she was with yet another hormonal mother. It was a struggle, trying to open the car door whilst holding a baby and bags of shopping. As soon as I put the baby down she screamed, terrified I was leaving her. I picked her back up and kissed her downy hair. Come on little one, let’s get you home.
I pulled up in the drive and checked that the nosy old lady from next door was not around. If she came out, I would have to kill her, this was my baby now. As we went inside, I realised I hadn’t yet given her a name. I pondered only for a few seconds before naming her Grace, my grandmother’s name. She must be hungry. I kept her in my arms whilst reading the instructions on the milk formula tin. Damn, I’d forgotten to buy a steriliser, but then I doubted this baby had ever had the privilege of one of those. Whilst the milk was warming, I changed her nappy and put her in a fancy dress which was way too big. She took the milk feverishly, tiny fingers clasping the bottle, refusing to let go. We looked intently at one another, the strong, noisy suckling ebbing to and fro. My own baby, baby Grace. The phone rang, I let it. I looked at the number flashing, it was work. I had totally forgotten. I would have to call them, get them off my back or they might start checking up. I was one of those perfect colleagues who turned up early, never had a day off sick, stayed late, and took on everybody’s crap in the hope they might like me in return. I had even let my boss fondle me. I was pathetic and worse I knew it. Well, I would have to hand in my notice now, I had a baby to look after and there was no way I was going to put her in nursery. I put Grace upstairs and went back downstairs to phone the office. I explained that I had been caught up in an incident, that the police needed me for questioning and that I would not be in today, actually, due to the trauma, it was likely I would be off for the rest of the week. They gasped, it was all so dramatic, but more to the point, it was so unlike me, they did not know what to say. Also, my voice had taken on a ‘screw you’ kind of tone and that was enough to stop any mundane questioning.
We had the most perfect day, just Gracie and me, that was until I put on the television for the evening news. There I was, a grainy image on CCTV, calmly but purposefully leaving the station with somebody else’s baby. There was a gruff police inspector pleading with me to come forward, remarking that the baby might need medical help. Worse, the baby’s mother then came on the screen, crying for her baby, saying she could not live without her. Hypocritical bitch. She was the one who had left her. The baby was apparently called Charlotte. Not any more I thought and besides she suited Grace. I remained strangely immune from what I had just seen and flicked the channels over easily. Then there was a knock at the door, the type of knock which makes you jump as if you had just missed a step in a dream. I panicked, surely they had not found us already. I went to look out from a side window and smiled. I had arranged for a random plumber to come round and quote me for a new boiler. I let him in and played my part perfectly, he even jovially pinched Grace’s cheeks on the way out. I looked at his left hand, feeling strangely disappointed to see a wedding ring. My goodness, I was already hunting for a suitable father.
I considered phoning my mother to tell her that I had given birth to a baby girl, I had not seen her since Christmas. I decided against it, she would make a lousy grandmother. I went through my address book wondering who else I could tell and there lay the stark reality, there was not one person I could tell.
I did not want to sleep in case I woke and Grace was gone. Grace slept fitfully and by morning I was feeling weary as I tried to make a cup of tea and Grace’s milk simultaneously. Grace was grizzly and now looked bored with me, spluttering her cries in between her feed. Then I could hear voices outside, it was only 7 am. My heart sank. I could hear the old lady from next door, she must have spotted me after all. Then the frantic shouting of police as they approached the door. They had come to get us. We had not even had twenty four hours together and now it was over. It was happening again and I could not bear it, the pain overwhelmed and rocked my body. I sobbed, I looked at my little Gracie, taking in every detail of her and begging her to forgive me for giving her back.
I wish I could say that the police were understanding or exuded some warmth, but they seemed infuriated. One called me a baby snatcher and firmly reminded me that the baby already had a mother and did not need another one. My good deed the previous day had been cancelled out and quickly forgotten. I almost stopped breathing when they wrenched her out of my arms, I refused to let go at first, but that just made Gracie more upset. As they led me into the back of the police car I realised my life would never be the same again. Around me curtains twitched.
It was not until some months later in the psychiatric hospital, when the medications had finally kicked in, that sanity appeared to me like an angel in the corner. I thought often of Grace and her mother, no that was stupid, I should have said Charlotte’s mother, see I was getting better. I now had the wisdom to know that the baby I had lost when I was just seventeen had crushed and bloodied me beyond repair. Nobody had cared, my useless mother even commenting that it was for the best. The baby’s father actually cheered, he had moved onto the next piece of meat. My life had been creeping along into a slow slug of nothingness, a quiet aching and yearning. I had looked fine, but inside I was insane with anger. It had taken a crazy mother to turn up five years later and tip me over the edge.
Today had been a good day, no make that a fantastic day. I had written to Charlotte’s mother some time ago begging for forgiveness and she had at last replied. I had been terrified of opening the letter at first, lest she reject me along with everyone else in my life. Her writing started shakily, but she thanked me for saving her and for taking care of her daughter. It must have been a difficult letter to write. Her post natal depression was now under control and they were restarting their life together. Any envy I might have had disappeared in an instance. She was not my baby. I felt as though we had been destined to meet on that cold, windy platform in the middle of suburbia. Two women equally disturbed and trying desperately to live life from the outside in. One baby without a voice.
I had come to learn that when I had reached down and pulled Charlotte’s mother from the tracks I was, without realising it, rescuing both of us. I may have only been standing there for a few seconds, but in that one fleeting moment we were as one, raging at life together. Now, at long last, the rage was fading and tomorrow was just another day.
© Deborah Griffith. August 2010
Back to topBy Dale Rappaneau - 2nd Place
I was only standing there for a few seconds before all hell rose up beneath me. We were out searching for a ship that had gone missing in the area. You know, the S.S. Anna, that one ship that disappeared a couple weeks ago during the storm. The whole crew was talking about how it just up and vanished, like it never even existed. Everywhere you went you heard people talking about how not a single crew member washed up anywhere. We were all sort of jazzed. Guys started to get into fights over nothing. You looked at another guy the wrong way and you’d have a knife to your throat in seconds, and it was getting worse the further out to sea we went. Even Captain Black looked shook up by the whole thing.
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What was Captain Black doing?
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I don't know. Nothing too strange. He just had this look on his face like he hadn't slept in awhile. And he kept staring at sea all the time. Stopped eating with the rest of the guys and started eating in his captain's quarters. It's not a good sign when the captain leaves his crew to eat alone, and you better damn well believe we picked up on that. Thomas, my bunk mate, he had this thing where he called the crew the "spider web."
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I'm not following.
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Well, you know, something moves somewhere and you can feel it everywhere. That kind of thing. Captain Black had something going wrong with him and the rest of us felt it. And he always had this faint smell of the ocean about him, like he woke up and went for a swim every morning.
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Describe it to me.
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You know the smell. Barnacles and sea water, that kind of thing.
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I see. Let's skip ahead a bit. We only have a limited amount of time before we're upon the site, so we need to know as much as possible before we get there. You and the crew were feeling restless, why?
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Wait. Before we're upon the site? What the hell are you talking about?
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We're going back for it.
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You're bringing me back there? No, this cannot be possible.
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Andrew, that beast has already destroyed at least two of our finest ships. It must be put out of its misery.
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Misery? Misery is what it put us through. Do you even understand what it did out there?
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No, and that is exactly why we are talking. I want you to tell me all about it.
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I have no option out of this, do I?
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Your only other option is long walk off a short plank. But it's your choice.
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You don't have to say it with a smile you navy prick.
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Think of it as a form of encouragement, to help you make the right decision. You technically shouldn't be alive and we have no problem changing that little detail. You could have easily been killed out there with the rest of your crew. See where I'm going with this?
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I gotcha.
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So let's continue. You were talking about Captain Black's anxiety and his need to eat alone. What about the attack and the sinking of your boat?
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I'm getting to that part. It's a process. Captain Black was clearly stressed out over the whole thing, but it was more than that. It was like the whole crew knew something that we couldn't quite explain. You ever get those moments where you just can't explain why you feel a certain way, but you know it to be true?
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Elaborate further.
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All right. Let me think. It's like a sixth sense kind of thing. You sort of just know that something isn’t quite right. I don't know. Like someone has tampered with your stuff while you were gone, or your brother went in your room while you were out with a friend. That kind of stuff.
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I think I understand. Go on.
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Everyone started telling stories like they weren't coming home. Thomas started telling me about how he never liked women and he loved blokes. That's not something you go spouting off on a ship - they can have you tossed over for that stuff. And he said how all of those damn love letters he's been reading me were just part of his cover-up. But it wasn't just Thomas. Everyone was telling these stories. Everyone just started spilling the beans about their life.
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Even Captain Black?
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No, no, Captain Black didn't say a word. He used to talk a lot, but he just shut his yap and stayed away from us. We'd try to talk to him and he'd just walk right by. And his eyes never left the ocean. If he was inside, he was staring out a window. If he was outside, he wasn’t all there. He would answer questions with groans and grunts, but nothing more than that. The usual charismatic Captain turned into a walking, mindless drone. But that changed when we got there.
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To the S.S. Anna site?
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Yeah. He wasn't quiet no more. He started yelling. It was like blind terror took him over and all he could do was scream at the crew. You could see it on his face. He was pale and looked so tired. But then he just exploded with energy when it hit us.
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When the beast hit you?
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Yeah, all hell broke out. Men started screaming about seeing things or hearing noises, like really strange things. One guy kept saying that he heard the hull being torn apart. And he wasn't fooling either. You could see it in his eyes. He was the only one in the boiler room when he heard it, so none of us really believed him. We were so stupid.
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You do realize how difficult it is to sink one of our ships, right? These things are made to withstand air and naval assaults.
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So where the fuck is my ship then? You think I just decided to jump off and find my way to the middle of the ocean for fun, like I had nothing better to do with my time?
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I do not mean to mock you, Andrew. I only want to understand exactly what I am hearing.
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The man screamed bloody murder about hearing something, all right? I’m trying to tell you about what happened, but you’re sitting there staring at me like I'm some fucking science experiment. We had no fucking clue what we were getting ourselves involved in. How the fuck could we?
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Your naval training should have prepared you for the worst.
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You're a fucking piece of work. Listen to you - spouting off more naval bullshit. You really are a pisser, a full fledged fuck, you know that? You can talk about naval training all you want, but I know what happened out there. I saw those tentacles and that beak. That gaping hell-hole of a mouth. It was consuming and devouring men alive. Whole men, can your naval school prepare anyone for that?
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Apparently not.
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There's a fucking monster out there, sir. It's sitting in the blue abyss below, waiting to consume its next meal. You and I are that next meal. You are bringing me right back to that abomination. I've already seen it. I've already seen it! It was right there, close enough to touch me, with those tentacles, those fucking tentacles, they started tearing into the ship. Tore the damn thing apart like it was made of paper.
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Andrew, I've heard enough. You have given me more than enough information, and I thank you for it, but I am afraid I must inform you about your true reason for being here.
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My true reason?
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Captain Black was tasked with destroying the monster, but he clearly has failed performing his duties, so now it falls on me take it down. Do you understand what I'm saying?
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So Captain Black really did know what he was doing when he brought us out there?
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Yes, Captain Black was informed long before the ship left for the sea.
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So why are you bringing me back there then?
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You smell like the ocean, Andrew. Like barnacles. Like you have gone for a swim every morning.
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What? What does my smell have to do with anything?
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Have you ever heard of Alfred, Lord Tennyson?
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No, I haven’t. Why?
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He wrote a poem once. It’s one of my favorite. “Below the thunders of the upper deep, far, far beneath in the abysmal sea, his ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep. The Kraken sleepeth.”
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What the fuck does that have to do with anything? What's going on here?
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This interview is over. Two men will be in in a couple minutes to take you out onto the deck. You’re doing a great thing today, Andrew. Millions will be saved because of your sacrifice. Do take care of yourself.
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Where are you going? Why are you leaving me here? Come back! What does any of this mean? What sacrifice? Come back here!
© Dale Rappaneau. August 2010
Back to topBy Alys Henderson - 3rd Place
I was only standing there for a few seconds on the beam. Honestly mummy. I was just looking around. I didn’t think I’d fall…
No, oh no! What’s happened? My baby has fallen out of the nest. I can see her down there, on the ground. She’s screaming. Stop screaming you’ll attract birds! My god, what am I going to do? I can’t go down there. Dogs may get me, humans may get me. Help me someone. I can see her trying to walk to safety – still screaming. Oh no, the birds have arrived. Birds are chasing my baby. Hang on I’m coming!
Wait a moment, what’s happening. A human has arrived. Another one has joined her. They’re looking around; the second lady has seen my baby and grabbed it. She’s looking around in the roof, my god, she’s seen me. She’s looking right at me watching her. She’s talking to the other human. She’s chasing away the birds. My baby is still screaming and trying to get away – the lady has put her to her chest and at last my baby has stopped screaming. What’s going to happen now? I can’t bear it. She’s walking away with my baby. What will I do? What is she going to do with my baby? Kill it! No, no, I’ll never see my baby again. What am I going to do?
So many humans around now; so much noise of humans and birds I can’t think. She’s coming back. I can see the lady that took my baby coming back. My baby is screaming again – it’s been put into some container – I can see it. The lady is sending all the other humans away and has put the container at the bottom of my pole. My baby is screaming down there, I can see her trying to get out of the container. I must go down and get her. I can’t go down and get her – the pole is too slippery. I only come up this way, not go down. Stop screaming. You’ll attract the birds again. I must go down. I have to go down. Now what’s happening? That lady is still around. She’s moving the container. She’s picked up my baby again. What is she doing? Where’s she going now? Oh, I see. She’s put my baby higher up off the ground. She’s put my baby where I can reach her safely. Hang on, hang on tightly little one. Mummy possum is coming…….
Now if I crawl along that roof beam and down that pole I can reach her. No, there’s another beam in the way. What if I go along that other beam, cross over to the other side of the screen where my baby is and climb down that pole. That will work. Hang on, stop screaming, the birds will come back. Mummy is coming. I don’t care if that lady is watching. She seems to be keeping the birds and humans away. Hang on, hang on. I’m nearly there. Just have to squeeze you through the screen – gotcha. Silence at last. Hold on to mummy’s tummy little one and we’ll go back to the nest. Oh no, a problem. I’m not going to fit back through the way I came with my baby on my tummy. I’ll have to try another way. It’ll be a tight squeeze but I think I can make it along here and up and over the pole next to my nest. Hang on tightly – squeeze, squeeze we go. There we made it. What a day.
Thank you lady…..
© Alys Henderson. August 2010
Back to topBy Ruby Ingley - 3rd Place
“I was only standing there for a few seconds…” Chloe said, taking a step towards him. She couldn’t believe the situation she’d suddenly been thrown in to. Just an hour ago she’s been completely serene.
Gravity was one of the few things in life that Chloe Swift had always hated. Sitting in science lessons in her early teenage years, she’d become bored of it (along with most other things that teens hated like nagging parents and chores), this force which people were so in awe of. It was a ‘miracle’ that held her to the earth, however much she wanted to fly. She preferred not to know what was going on around her, leaving the beauty of the World unspoiled by knowing what was going on within it. A bit like finding out how a magician did his tricks, Chloe thought.
Yes, Gravity had wasted many an afternoon in Chloe’s younger years. That mixed with Mr. Benson- aka The Silver Sloth, due to his premature silver hair and mind-numbingly slow lessons- the science teacher who’d once told her she could do ‘great things’ if she would only apply herself. No, she definitely hated gravity, and right at this moment, when she wanted most of all to fly up and away from where she stood, she thought it probably hated her too.
She looked down over the edge, her auburn ringlets falling over her face to crowd her view. She loved the colour of her hair- the envy of all her friends- but hated its unruly behaviour. She swept it back out of her eyes and behind her ears, a habit she’d picked up from years of trying to tame it- One which her husband hated, telling her she looked far more beautiful if she left it, while moving the hair back where it had been. An annoying trait, but he meant well.
Chloe smiled as she thought of her husband. She truly loved him, if not for his looks or charm then simply for the fact that he was the only man to have ever been able to completely overlook her flaws (which were many) and in return she overlooked his. Well, not without a good argument first.
Chloe looked down at the ground curiously, not fazed by how high up she was. The ground seemed far away, so far at that moment that she felt she didn’t even belong in the city that swarmed bellow. It was because of this city that Chloe stood there, on the forgotten-about roof of one of the tallest buildings among the many skyscrapers. Looking up, she could see grey sky, surprisingly nice weather for a country that was in the depths of winter, and a small smoky line left behind by a plane. How she wished she could be on that plane.
Looking down, she could see the grey-slab pavement in the distance. She tried counting the floors below her but gave up after a meagre four, where a little ledge jutted out just under one of the big glass windows. That’s a weird place to have a balcony, Chloe thought to herself. As she looked closer it dawned on her that it was probably one of the ledges used by window cleaners. There were several ledges running up the building, with a gap of about five floors between each. They were very inconspicuous, blending in flawlessly with the glass shimmering of the wall. The office building, in essence, looked quite posh. “Its completely glass outer-structure is meant to glitter as the sun hits it,” Chloe’s Dad had told her time and time again when he used to come and pick her up from work. He called himself a would-be architect, which really meant he was a ‘builder with high aspirations’. The architect of this building must have overlooked the fact that in England there is no sun, Chloe thought as she looked out at the sea of glass buildings which only added to the dullness of the day by reflecting the grey clouds. That was stupid, she added as an afterthought, while wondering why she was in such a bitter mood.
She didn’t want to jump. It hadn’t even crossed her mind and she thought that anyone who chose to go this way and cause so much chaos on the ground bellow just needed some attention (and probably some sort of therapy). She just thought that if she looked out across the world, things might be put into perspective. She’d been told by her Mother, in a rare and rather vain attempt to cheer her up, that her problems were just one out of six billion. To Chloe they felt like everything. She just wanted a different view on the life that she’d been living, to try and make sense of the things that she’d never really understood. And so far she wasn’t sure it was working. London, as a whole, wasn’t that inspiring to look at. Not in a new-found-wonder-for-the-life-I-lead-and-the-world-I-live-in kind of way anyway, which is what Chloe had hoped for when she’d made her way up here from work.
Chloe sighed, but didn’t step away from the edge, glad of the hour that she’d taken for lunch, even if it meant she’d get fifteen minutes less later on in the day. It gave her time to think, without the interruption of nails tapping endlessly on keyboards; she grimaced at the thought, adding yet another thing to the every-growing list of what she hated. Being stuck in an office all day every day didn’t match Chloe’s personality. Not in the least. She’d started out as the slowest typist in the office, spending an entire day on one activity. She remembered the way she’d taught herself to type more quickly; copying out an entire book on her computer. At the time it seemed ridiculous, but now, after one entire year, the effect was obvious- she was the fastest in the office, and oddly proud of it, even if she didn’t get the recognition she thought she deserved.
No, Chloe was free, or at least that’s what she liked to think. She was a bird longing to be released. Outside of work, she led an average life, which she’s always wanted. Her friends had been with her since childhood, and she’d been madly in love with her husband since he’d swept her off her feet four years ago. The day they’d married, five months into her 22nd year, was the happiest day she could remember. She was happy, wasn’t she? Then again, she couldn’t help thinking that if this was it, if this was life, then it was getting pretty mundane- every day passing just like the last. Everything was finally settling into place, and she was just starting to find out that life in the slow lane wasn’t all she’d thought it would be.
She’d tried to bring the subject up with her husband the night before, but when she’d listed what she thought her life would involve from now on, her husband had looked at her with such glee that she couldn’t bring herself to complain. She should’ve known that he would make some devastatingly romantic speech about how all the simple things in life now seemed so much more exciting now that they were married. She could see her future in from of her now- moving out of their flat and into a house, having kids, growing old, retiring to some obscure country village which no one had ever heard of, and then finally… death.
She sat down carefully, not wanting any of the passersby below to look up and presume the worst. She already knew a few friends who would and she didn’t need any drama from strangers. She tucked her feet underneath her, not finding the courage to dangle them over the edge and, wrapping her arms around herself, she did well at keeping out the mid-winter breeze. She resented it, even though it was keeping her awake (as if it knew how little sleep she’d been getting and how much the prospect of sleep was enticing her).
Chloe had woken up, at a ridiculous hour, to a phone call asking her to come into work early. She’d politely agreed, hiding her annoyance well that she’d been interrupted in the middle of such a wonderful dream. She hated Mondays too, possibly more than gravity.
She hadn’t heard Adam come out onto the roof and was just turning her phone off again after checking the time when she heard a small cough. When she turned around, she was surprised to see him watching her. She felt a little exposed, not knowing what to say, or how to explain where she’d chosen to sit for her lunch break. Chloe had always been nervous around Adam when she was at work. Her entire income relied on her boss’ trust in her and the look that he was giving her now meant that he doubted her. She knew this look well. She stood up a little hastily, forgetting for a moment where she was and took a few strides towards him, hoping to just pass by without being questioned.
“Chloe...” he started, motioning with his hand to the edge of the roof, where she’d been standing moments ago. He stumbled over his choice of words, creating an awkward silence between them that filled the roof in a flood, “I know things aren’t perfect but...” He said, finally filling the pause. He took a step towards her, with a little too much caution, “...should we talk about this?”
Chloe rolled her eyes vaguely. She expected this from her friends and family, but not from Adam. “Please Adam, It’s not like I was going to jump, I’m not like that and you know it,” she said, surprised at the venom and lack of enthusiasm in her voice. In one sentence she’d almost managed to convince herself that she had been about to jump. “I was only standing there for a few seconds…” Chloe said, taking a step towards him. She couldn’t believe the situation she’d suddenly been thrown in to. Just an hour ago she’s been completely serene. “I was just thinking about stuff-...Look, you know I’d tell you if I was worried about anything,” she said, suddenly feeling angry with him for intruding on her personal time. Lord knew she didn’t get much of it.
“I thought you could tell me anything- everything.” He took a breath and worry filled his dark brown eyes. Chloe had always loved those eyes, she could read a lot from them, and so much more than Adam realised, “But now, I really don’t know. You haven’t talked to me in a long time, it feels,”
Chloe’s anger rose inside her before she could even start to count to ten, “Look, you’re the one who’s always telling me that what happens outside the office stays there, that at work you should be focused on what matters! Why can’t you respect my privacy sometimes?” she questioned, knowing how Adam loved having his space- he often disappeared into his office for hours on end, claiming to be working on some new and secret type of paperwork, which nobody else ever saw. She smiled slyly to herself when he shuffled a little further away from her, he was struggling. She knew he wanted to share every thought with her, even though he’d never tell her that (he was a man after all). But surely he knew that some things had to stay private.
Adam tilted his head to the side, sighing, “I’m sorry, Chlo,” he breathed an almost inaudible apology, but she heard him, and suddenly her heart softened and she smiled at the comforting sound of the nickname only Adam used. Her smile let him know that she was sorry too, but in her head she cursed herself for not being able to stay angry with him for more than five minutes.
She walked over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Look, I’m sorry I was mean,” she said with a small smile suddenly lighting up her face. “I was only looking over the edge because...well, it puts things in perspective. Look.”
She wandered back over to the edge, ignoring a small flash of worry from Adam as she got closer. He joined her slowly, and crouching down a little as if that would save him from an untimely death. But when he got to the edge he stood up straight and smiled.
“Oh, what a view,” he sighed, and after a while, looked at Chloe, “I almost understand why you were up here now. Sorry I got worried.” He smiled, gaining her forgiveness before he’d even asked for it.
“I love you, you know that?” Chloe whispered, looking her husband in the eye. He nodded, trying to hide the grin that had spread across his face.
They turned to go back inside, hand in familiar hand.
© Ruby Ingley. August 2010
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