Page 22 of Best Laid Plans
A couple of hours into the walk, he’d been enjoying the soothing rhythm of it, letting his mind wander freely, when he found himself on a particularly narrow part of the path which began to swing gradually out closer to the cliff’s edge. It was only when he dragged himself out of his philosophical thoughts to take proper stock of what he was heading for that he realised the next part of the walk was going to take him past some unguarded sections where the exposed cliff edge fell steeply away from the path, straight down to the rocks below.
A bead of sweat trickled down his spine, followed swiftly by another as he carefully continued on the path which, to his growing unease, was becoming narrower and narrower the further along it he walked.
He’d never been great with heights, but he’d never before experienced this dizzying horror as he took in the sight of the sea crashing against razor-sharp rocks below him. If only there had been a railing he could touch, to reassure himself there was no way he could stumble and fall down into what seemed, in his unsettled imaginings, to be oblivion.
His breath came fast now, scything in and out of his lungs and burning his parched throat as his pace slowed to a crawl. A gravitational force seemed to be pulling at him, attempting to draw him closer and closer to the edge as he picked his way along the path. Looking behind him, he wondered wildly for a moment whether he should go back, but the thought of even turning around on the narrow path caused a wave of pure terror to flood through his body and his stomach to lurch, bringing him to the edge of nausea.
It would be so easy to topple to the side and fall. He could picture the air rushing past him, feel the impending doom as he rocketed closer and closer to the jagged rocks, then the unforgiving suck of the sea as it pulled him into its fathomless depths.
His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.
Closing his eyes, he grabbed for the foliage that rose to the right of him to steady himself and somehow managed to anchor himself enough to slide down onto his haunches with his back to the rough stone wall, pressing himself hard against it.
The solid feel of rock and earth steadied him and he opened his eyelids a crack to take stock of his situation.
Not good.
He was roughly halfway along the dangerously narrow path, with no easy way forward or back.
He was stuck.
Why the heck hadn’t he checked a walking guide, like the last hotel receptionist had suggested? If he had, he’d have known what he was about to face and could either have taken a longer inland route or skipped this section of the walk completely and taken a bus to the next destination.
But then that hadn’t been the point of the trip. He was here to challenge his endurance and push through any personal discomfort until he felt like himself again. Skipping part of it would have felt like cheating.
But what a challenge it had turned out to be.
Adrenaline raised his blood pressure, heating his body as he fought the flight impulse, so he felt as though he was sitting in an oven – the fierce heat of the sun beating down on his head not helping his plight.
Oh man, this wasn’t good.
The sound of voices floated towards him from the direction he’d come, and he turned his head to see who it was, humiliation already engulfing him at the thought of what he would look like, hunched over, clinging on to the rock face.
Pretty unheroic, he suspected.
A minute later, a group of men that he’d not encountered before walked up to him on the path, all of them giving him an odd look as they picked their way carefully past him.
‘Buongiorno,’ he muttered to them, raising his head and forcing a friendly smile onto his face.
‘Everything okay?’ one of them asked in Italian as he passed, his brow crinkled with concern.
‘Great, fine,’ Julien muttered, flapping a dismissive hand in the air. ‘Just taking a break,’ he added, quickly grabbing back hold of the rocky surface.
The man’s frown deepened, but he didn’t stop walking, giving a shrug and picking up his pace to catch up with his friends.
Letting out a low sigh, Julien pressed his head back against the wall again and tried to think himself out of his problem. This was ridiculous; he was a grown man of twenty-eight, he should not be letting a bit of rock and air defeat him.
Blowing gently first up towards his forehead, then down towards his chest, he attempted to think cooling thoughts to regulate his heartbeat, then, when that didn’t work, he tried distracting himself by thinking about work. But his mind kept leaping back to how close he was to the edge, which made him laugh out loud in a maniacal fashion because it occurred to him then that his whole world seemed to be full of edges that he was trying not to fall off at the moment.
Which inevitably made him think about Indigo. He shifted uncomfortably on his haunches as he relived the look of hurt in those beautiful eyes of hers – the look he’d caused – and he nearly toppled forwards.
That woman would be the death of him. Literally.
An age seemed to pass while he tried to gather his courage to stand up and force himself to walk along the rest of the path. It couldn’t be that much further until it wound back inland. Could it?
Just as he was about to attempt to heave himself back to standing, the sound of more voices coming towards him made him freeze in dismay.
Taking a deep breath and cursing his luck at this being such a popular walking route to be stranded on, he steeled himself to make polite conversation again until they’d gone. He really didn’t want to have any witnesses to his humiliation, so he was going to wave them on and wait until they were well out of sight before he made his next attempt at getting off this damn cliff.
