touch
any
rail,’ he interrupted.
The tracks were wider than they looked and the other side seemed far away. About a third of the way across fear began to expand inside her. She could hear the clanging of points as they changed, the hum of the shiny metal rails. She didn’t dare look up, scared that what she saw would make her panic and run – and who knew then what danger she might be in? She gripped Adam’s hand harder, his knuckles a bony lifeline. Finally they were across and she half staggered on the small loose stones piled by the side of the tracks. Her heart was pummelling the inside of her chest. She didn’t let go of Adam’s hand as he led her out over the river, because she couldn’t bear to feel herself outside his comforting orbit; she didn’t want reality to leave her exposed.
A little further on Adam turned into a triangular space with high cement walls made by the struts of the bridge below them and she could finally retreat a little from the trains. She looked around her at the spray cans that littered the ground as Adam commanded her to stand right back against one of the walls. Nicky gave a gasp. So this was why graffiti artists risked their lives for their art. The wall in front of her had a huge mural of Red Riding Hood painted on it, her red cloak fanning out behind her, her hair a blonde punk interpretation. In her hands she held a spray can of paint, aiming it like a gun, and above her head were the words ‘Fear makes the wolf grow bigger’. Red Riding Hood’s eyes contained a steely glint that it was impossible to ignore. The enclosed space, the inability to walk away from the work because of the train lines, meant its full power caught the viewer head on.
‘Now
that’s
what I call art,’ Adam said.
They were suspended over the middle of the Thames, the breathtaking view of the beating heart of the city flowing away beneath them, Red Riding Hood’s blood-red cape caught in the wind off the river.
‘It’s amazing,’ was all Nicky could say.
‘Worth the danger?’ Adam asked. Nicky nodded, adrenalin surging through her body. She hadn’t felt so alive in years. ‘Life is about taking risks, confronting your fears. Otherwise what’s the point?’
Nicky laughed. ‘Fear makes the wolf –’
They finished the rest together: ‘– grow bigger.’
He suddenly looked serious and grabbed her hand again. ‘We need to go. The transport police will be here in a minute.’ He led her back the way they had come and she felt at that moment that she would follow him anywhere. This day was a divine hiatus, a break from her real life. They walked back onto the platform past several gawping passengers. ‘Shit! The police are here!’ She followed his gaze and saw two policemen hurrying across the concourse. They sprinted down a walkway and out into Villiers Street. As she ran along she started giggling and then she started laughing and she found she couldn’t stop. Such happiness surged through her that she had to double over near Embankment Tube. This was all so gloriously silly, so young at heart. Adults didn’t run, they walked. Greg might stride, his sturdy legs eating up the ground, but he didn’t run. There were probably moments when Adam skipped.
‘Nicky Ayers, you’ve got some balls, I’ll give you that! I never thought you’d go for it!’
‘Then you really don’t know me at all, Adam Thornton!’ He was looking at her through his laughter with amazement – and desire.
They jogged across the river and down onto the South Bank, her heart only now beginning to return to something like normal.
They passed the National Film Theatre and Nicky went in to the bar to buy a bottle of water. As she inched forward in the queue she felt a swirling mixture of adrenalin, excitement and shock. Adam had taken her back to her younger self, her self before her marriage and before Grace’s death.
Just as she was looking for her money for the water she was shoved roughly from
any
rail,’ he interrupted.
The tracks were wider than they looked and the other side seemed far away. About a third of the way across fear began to expand inside her. She could hear the clanging of points as they changed, the hum of the shiny metal rails. She didn’t dare look up, scared that what she saw would make her panic and run – and who knew then what danger she might be in? She gripped Adam’s hand harder, his knuckles a bony lifeline. Finally they were across and she half staggered on the small loose stones piled by the side of the tracks. Her heart was pummelling the inside of her chest. She didn’t let go of Adam’s hand as he led her out over the river, because she couldn’t bear to feel herself outside his comforting orbit; she didn’t want reality to leave her exposed.
A little further on Adam turned into a triangular space with high cement walls made by the struts of the bridge below them and she could finally retreat a little from the trains. She looked around her at the spray cans that littered the ground as Adam commanded her to stand right back against one of the walls. Nicky gave a gasp. So this was why graffiti artists risked their lives for their art. The wall in front of her had a huge mural of Red Riding Hood painted on it, her red cloak fanning out behind her, her hair a blonde punk interpretation. In her hands she held a spray can of paint, aiming it like a gun, and above her head were the words ‘Fear makes the wolf grow bigger’. Red Riding Hood’s eyes contained a steely glint that it was impossible to ignore. The enclosed space, the inability to walk away from the work because of the train lines, meant its full power caught the viewer head on.
‘Now
that’s
what I call art,’ Adam said.
They were suspended over the middle of the Thames, the breathtaking view of the beating heart of the city flowing away beneath them, Red Riding Hood’s blood-red cape caught in the wind off the river.
‘It’s amazing,’ was all Nicky could say.
‘Worth the danger?’ Adam asked. Nicky nodded, adrenalin surging through her body. She hadn’t felt so alive in years. ‘Life is about taking risks, confronting your fears. Otherwise what’s the point?’
Nicky laughed. ‘Fear makes the wolf –’
They finished the rest together: ‘– grow bigger.’
He suddenly looked serious and grabbed her hand again. ‘We need to go. The transport police will be here in a minute.’ He led her back the way they had come and she felt at that moment that she would follow him anywhere. This day was a divine hiatus, a break from her real life. They walked back onto the platform past several gawping passengers. ‘Shit! The police are here!’ She followed his gaze and saw two policemen hurrying across the concourse. They sprinted down a walkway and out into Villiers Street. As she ran along she started giggling and then she started laughing and she found she couldn’t stop. Such happiness surged through her that she had to double over near Embankment Tube. This was all so gloriously silly, so young at heart. Adults didn’t run, they walked. Greg might stride, his sturdy legs eating up the ground, but he didn’t run. There were probably moments when Adam skipped.
‘Nicky Ayers, you’ve got some balls, I’ll give you that! I never thought you’d go for it!’
‘Then you really don’t know me at all, Adam Thornton!’ He was looking at her through his laughter with amazement – and desire.
They jogged across the river and down onto the South Bank, her heart only now beginning to return to something like normal.
They passed the National Film Theatre and Nicky went in to the bar to buy a bottle of water. As she inched forward in the queue she felt a swirling mixture of adrenalin, excitement and shock. Adam had taken her back to her younger self, her self before her marriage and before Grace’s death.
Just as she was looking for her money for the water she was shoved roughly from
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