Page 22 of Rescuing Rosie
‘I know what a sheep is.’
At last, Ant chuckled. ‘Sorry.’ He looked at her for a moment. ‘Follow me – short diversion.’
He set off across the field with long-legged strides, heading up a slope towards a rocky outcrop. Rosie had trouble keepingup; the grass was wet and tussocky and there was mud, but at least her feet remained snug and dry.
At the base of the outcrop, a slab of rock rose gently, becoming steeper near the top.
‘Leave your bag there,’ Ant said, then he scrambled up –ranup, in fact – Wainwright at his side. Rosie’s mouth dropped open as she watched.
‘Up you come,’ he called from the top.
‘How did you do that?’ Rosie scanned the rock. There was nothing to hold on to. The grey stone was smooth and wet, with a few cracks running through it. But Rosie had a point to prove.
Carefully she placed one foot on the rock, then took a few small steps upward, her arms stretched wide, bracing for her feet to slip. The wind whipped her hair across her face, and she wobbled as she attempted to tuck it behind her ears.
‘Lean forward, trust your boots,’ Ant called.
They held fast, even as the slope became steeper. ‘Oh!’ She was gaining in confidence as she moved towards him. ‘I’m Spiderwoman!’
The slope became steeper still, and she stopped, putting her hands down in front of her, looking up at him. The last part looked almost vertical. ‘What do I do now?’
He crouched down and held out a hand. ‘Nearly there – grab my hand.’
She inched forward, stretched up, reached out and took it, and her feet left the ground as he hauled her on to the top of the rock. For a moment she felt weightless, before her boots met solid ground again and she straightened, letting out a whoop.
‘Well done,’ he said, smiling at her.
‘That was … so cool!’ she said, panting from the effort. ‘The grip on these babies!’And the strength in your arms!
‘Shame we can’t see the view,’ he said, releasing her hand. Those fells were still invisible behind the clouds.
‘What? No – it’s lovely.’ They were looking down on the church, and beyond it the village, surrounded by a patchwork of green fields stitched together with dry stone walls. Woodland lined the river winding its way to the lake. Although sunshine was only a memory, the air seemed filled with a light. ‘With mountains tomorrow, maybe,’ she said.
They were quiet as she caught her breath, and it no longer felt awkward. Perhaps he was beginning to reconsider the pigeonhole into which he’d immediately shoved her. As she sucked in a lungful of fresh, clean air, so different to London’s particle-laden health hazard, she found herself saying, ‘It feels good to escape the train wreck of my life. I guess a bit of distance helps put things in perspective.’
Ant didn’t pry, just said, ‘Distance is good, height’s even better.’ He bent down to pat Wainwright. ‘Right, boy?’ The collie nuzzled his hand.
Be that as it may, as Rosie spotted Grasmere Heights down below, her thoughts turned to Ant’s colleague, to that glint – that promise? – in those ridiculously sexy dark eyes. Perhaps Dale was already in a cosy corner of the bar with a northern ale, a Xanadu beside it, waiting for her. She wondered if he’d managed to shake off Madison. If the star was being paid to ‘host’ the weekend, she surely couldn’t justify sitting around drinking with some random cute guy from the local village?
Seriously?piped up Rosie’s sensible side.You think he’d turn down a star for you?
Be off with you. I’m on a mission, and I’m feeling lucky.
Lucky. Remembering the black cat from the shoe shop, Rosie resolved to switch boots before heading into the bar. ‘Let’s go,’ she said.
‘Is this your first time in the Lakes?’ asked Ant, as they set off down the grassy slope back to the path, collecting Rosie’s bagged-up Docs on the way.
‘It is, yes,’ she said. ‘I’ve been to the Peak District, but that is of course some distance south of here, and I believe the peaks are smaller than the fells.’
Ant bit his lip. ‘Yes, it’s quite different.’
‘Not so many lakes, I’d imagine.’
‘Reservoirs, mainly, from memory.’
They reached another stile, and just along from it was a small hole in the wall which Wainwright tugged Ant towards.
‘No, you daft dog,’ said Ant, letting him off his lead again. ‘You’re too big for that.’
