Page 56 of Birds of a Feather

‘I think we’re just taking on more passengers, mate,’ said the newly married groom. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

Nick opened one of his eyes again for just long enough to see who’d spoken to him.

‘Yes, good. Thanks,’ he muttered, before slamming his eye shut again.

‘You not a fan of heights, mate?’ the groom asked, leaning in and waving his hand in front of Nick’s face to check how tightly closed his eyes were. Nick’s lack of reaction indicated they were ironclad.

‘No. No, not really,’ he replied through a tightly clenched jaw.

After a few more minutes, Nick’s firm grip on my hand had become uncomfortably strong. I exchanged one hand for the other and gave my freed one a shake to resume blood flow to my fingers. The view across the city was spectacular. The sky was mostly clear with a smattering of large, white cumulus clouds and thin white lines – the legacy of planes flying to and from the city. The views stretched to the hazy horizon. I was struck by how flat the city was and, despite its population, how green it looked. It was a testament to the forward thinking of city planners, and good soil.

We climbed towards the maximum height, which the brochure that Nick had shredded to pieces told us was 130 metres.

‘We’re halfway,’ I whispered.

Nick swallowed audibly.

‘The view is amazing, if you want to take a peek,’ I encouraged.

He shook his head defiantly.

‘I still don’t know why you came if you’re so terrified of heights,’ I said, as much to him, as to myself. It made me uncomfortable to see him distressed. I felt I had given him ample opportunities to change his mind about coming, and I didn’t like the idea he had committed to something he didn’t want to do because of me.

‘Do you want me to describe what I can see?’ I offered. ‘I’ll be your eyes.’

He nodded timidly.

I described all the iconic landmarks that I could identify: the sprawling flag atop Buckingham Palace that indicated the King was in town; the iconic London Bridge and The Shard, which rose boldly above the rest of the city’s skyline.

I noticed his rate of hand wringing had slowed since I’d started talking, and his breathing seemed to be calmer. So I carried on.

I told him about the parade of boats that chugged along the sullied waters of the River Thames. And I described the London Eye itself – the steel spokes and cables stretched out from a central point like a giant bicycle wheel.

The muscles around his closed eyes had relaxed slightly and the fine lines that radiated from the corner of his eyes, which usually gathered when he smiled, had softened. With his eyes still closed, I took the opportunity to study his face.

He had a slight bulge on the bridge of his nose, which I assumed was the result of a break. His lightly stubbled jaw contained an array of colour; some strands were quite strawberry, while others were light blond. With the sunlight streaming through the pod behind him, some strands looked golden, framing his lips perfectly.

He opened his eyes the tiniest bit, and caught me staring.

‘Can I help you?’ he said, but not unkindly. I felt my cheeks flush. Thankfully, he lifted his gaze over my shoulder.

We were approaching the bottom of our rotation and were in line with the top of the nearby buildings. Seeing the spectacular sprawling Palace of Westminster was made all the more special when Big Ben started to chime.

‘So this is what I’ve been missing?’ he asked.

‘See. I told you it was an amazing view.’

‘At least I can say I’ve done it now,’ he said. ‘That should shut up my mates. They’ve been trying to get me on it for ages.’

‘Have you always hated heights?’ I didn’t have any phobias, so I found it curious when otherwise rational people had irrational responses towards things. Of course, I exercised caution where needed and avoided unnecessary risk where possible, but I found that I could overcome most concerns with a rigorous risk analysis, some statistical research of likely outcomes and a robust strategy for making sure things went to plan.

‘Sort of.’ He started wringing the brochure again, so I chose not to push it.

‘Well, lunch is on me to celebrate,’ I insisted. ‘It’s the least I can do since you came on this with me.’

‘Sounds good,’ he said, smiling. ‘Although I’d probably have preferred to pay for lunch if it meant I got out of coming on this death trap.’

‘It will be worth it,’ I said. ‘I’ve booked a window table at the restaurant at the top of The Shard.’

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