Helen peered doubtfully through the mist, wondering how steep the path became, and as if reading her mind Oliver reached into the rucksack and pulled out some gear.
‘There is a bit of a drop up here,’ he said honestly, ‘but you won’t be able to see it because of the mist. Just to make you feel safe, I’m going to clip a rope to you and attach it to myself. OK?’
More than OK.
Helen felt his strong hands fiddle with something at her waist and he jerked straps and adjusted buckles until he finally gave a grunt of satisfaction and clipped a rope to her.
This time Oliver walked with a sense of purpose, his pace steady as they climbed through the mist. Every now and then he stopped and checked their position and Helen stood still, not wanting to distract him and trying not to look over the edge. Because by now there was definitely an edge and she didn’t want think about the drop.
‘Footprints.’ Oliver squatted down for a moment and then straightened. ‘Could be his. On the other hand, it hasn’t snowed for a couple of days so they could belong to someone else.’
His words were swallowed up by the roar of the waterfall that crashed down next to them and Helen winced as she felt the freezing spray on her face.
‘It’s really hard to make yourself heard here because of the noise of the waterfall,’ Oliver shouted. ‘It’s virtually non-existent in summer but in the winter it powers down the mountain like a damn with a leak.’ He broke off and his jaw tightened. ‘Apparently, when he called, they could hear the falls in the background so he must be up this path somewhere if he took a direct route from the bed and breakfast.’
Helen squinted into the mist. ‘Could he be the other side of the ghyll?’
Oliver shook his head. ‘That’s definitely not a tourist route. We’ll carry on up here. My guess is we’ll find him on this path. I reckon those are probably his footprints.’
But there was no sign of anyone and Oliver’s loud calls were virtually drowned by the sound of torrents of water thundering against the rocks.
His expression was grim and he glanced up the path. ‘Come on, let’s get going. We need to be a bit higher up.’
Higher up?
Helen took a deep breath and told herself that it wasn’t possible to be afraid of heights if the mist was concealing the drop. That would be too stupid for words. She just needed to look at Oliver instead of the edge.
So she fixed her eyes on his broad shoulders and made a point of stepping where he stepped.
And then Oliver stopped dead, his gaze fixed on the snowy path.
Helen followed his line of vision. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Well, the footprints end here—the snow looks crushed. As if someone fell.’ He bent down and touched it with his glove, a frown on his handsome face. ‘And some of the snow has been knocked off the edge…’
Realising what he was suggesting, Helen stared at him in horror. ‘You think he fell?’
‘He was certainly alive when he made the call.’ Oliver straightened up, pulled her back away from the edge and unclipped her rope.
‘Stand there and don’t move,’ he said firmly. ‘You’ll be fine. I just want to see if I can spot him. He may not be there at all, of course, but I have this feeling—’
He removed his rucksack and Helen watched while he pulled out a rope and various other bits and pieces that she couldn’t identify.
Then he walked towards the edge and shouted something.
Helen strained her ears to see if she could hear a reply but the roar of the water was almost deafening.
Oliver suddenly vanished from sight and Helen felt her heart lurch. Without his reassuring presence the mountains suddenly seemed less welcoming. She glanced around her but the mist created an unnerving stillness that made her shiver.
She looked hopefully towards the edge again but there was no sign of Oliver.
There was no point in shouting because she knew he couldn’t hear her so she stayed where she was for a few more minutes and then gingerly inched towards the edge.
Telling herself that he might need her help, Helen forced herself forwards until she could peer into the ghyll. The mist prevented her from seeing very far and the roar of the water was almost deafening. Huge rocks loomed into her vision, shiny from the spray of water and interspersed with patches of frozen snow. And finally she saw Oliver below her, balanced on a rock, holding onto the body of a man.
At first Helen thought the man must be unconscious but then she saw him move and felt a flood of relief.
At least they weren’t dealing with a body.