End of October
I held the rope tighter as I watched Ivy looking at the rock face. She glanced back at me.
‘You can do it.’
I knew what was going on in her mind – an urge to say she couldn’t, and I knew her heart was beating like a manic rave beat. But she wouldn’t voice her thoughts; she never did any more. Whatever crazy suggestion I proposed to her, she swallowed her fear and did it, for me. I’d been promised regular doses of sexual adrenaline while I recovered; she’d honoured that. Now I was returning the favour of adrenaline rushes – but not always in bed. I smiled.
‘Go on, Ivy. I’ve got you. I promise.’ But today she was facing her worst fear again. Heights. And solid awkward-shaped rock did look very different to perfect designed-to-be-climbed resin.
She’d climbed this rock face last Christmas, when I’d climbed up beside her. But now she knew I couldn’t get up there, so she had to do it alone.
I was climbing on the walls again, but I couldn’t do it properly yet. I didn’t have the movement in my joints because of all the scarred muscle tissue, and metal, and my strength had gone. But I was building it up and getting more movement back week by week, and I hadn’t given up on the idea of being able to climb here again. But right now I was living it through Ivy. That was why she never said no, because she did things for me, travelling the thrill ride for me.
‘Go on,’ I encouraged again.
She threw me a look that said, shut up. She was harnessed up and I had a hold of the safety rope.
‘Are you sure you’re strong enough to hold me.’
‘I told you last time, you can jump off anytime and I’ll lower you down. So just take a step up and then test me if you don’t trust me.’
‘I trust you.’
‘Well then, why did you even ask? I’ve got you and you aren’t going to fall off anyway.’
‘Okay.’ She took a breath.
I tugged the rope so she felt the pull as she stepped up to the bottom of the rock.
‘That’s me,’ she said. I was trying to make her feel like she did at the fake wall.
‘Climb when ready.’
I heard her take a deep breath. ‘Climbing,’ she said, finding a hold with one hand. The first time she’d done this she’d clung on with two hands before lifting her foot; she was definitely more confident.
‘Climb on,’ I acknowledged. She started climbing.
She was slow, but steady and sensible; searching out secure holds before she moved. She was a confident, competent climber – if only she believed in herself.
She was one of the crowd at the climbing club too. We often went from the walls to the bar; the only thing I’d lost was the ability to get to the top of a wall myself, but I was still aiming for it. And right now I was just glad to be up here in Cumbria again. I could’ve got up here two months ago on the train, but I’d held out because I’d wanted to drive here and I hadn’t wanted to bring Ivy back up while she was playing nurse. I wanted us level. I wanted everything to be as it should’ve been before Rick had smashed me off the bike. The only thing that was missing was me being able to climb.
Although that was a stupid thing to think. Nothing was completely the same. Ivy had packed up work in the summer. She’d loved the job but it was too awkward when she was spending so much time caring for me for weeks because I hadn’t been able to walk very easily and then keeping an eye on me when I’d started hobbling around with a stick. And she was meant to be on the payroll, although she hadn’t been for weeks – and with both of us out, the business had been working through some tough times. But so had I.
A month ago I’d got Em to get a loan to buy me out of the business. Phil had taken over my half.
Ivy and I were going to set up another agency and start from scratch, just the two of us. I had a feeling my customers who weren’t tied to contracts would follow me. Em would probably hate me for it, but the old business would survive. I felt a little guilty for ducking out on Em, but Ivy was more important. I wanted to be with her. The business was not the thing that had got me through the last few months; Ivy had been.
Before Ivy all the women who had been important in my life had been the opposite of me, making up for what I lacked. Ivy was my true partner. She was like me in lots of ways, and yet with her… she made who I was better.
I watched her complete the climb, her hand reached over the top and gripped the turf and she pulled herself up on to a foothold, then her other hand reached over the top. She tumbled on to the grass on the top, then stood up and unclipped the rope, screaming with excitement and waving down at me.
I smiled. She didn’t need my safety rope any more. But I needed hers. She had all the control. I waited for Captain Control to yell out in complaint. He didn’t. My inner voice was silent. But Lord he’d had nearly a year to get used to shutting up, since he’d been introduced to me up here last Christmas. ‘Do you want to go for the bigger face? You’ll be okay! If you want to do it, we can get you on a rope?’
‘Yes.’ Her expression said she was seeking the adrenaline rush of challenging herself.
She did it too, a perfect climb, without a fault.
When we got back to the house I made her a risotto for dinner and we ate it with a bottle of ale, sitting at the long antique oak table in the kitchen.
I liked being in the house with her. It was becoming our special place. It was making me contemplate living up here. Maybe we could stay in town in the week and come up here every weekend, or every other weekend at least; it would be too awkward for Daisy to travel up here all the time. I was going to bring her up for a holiday soon, though.
After dinner Ivy came around the table and kissed me. Then whispered over my lips. ‘Did you bring a suit with you?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Did you bring a tie?’
‘Yes. Why?’ I was smiling now.
‘Because I have a use for it.’
‘Well if it’s to tie me up, the answer is no. Neither my arm nor my legs are up to that, but yours…’ It probably wasn’t true, I’d probably be okay with it, but I’d been through enough. I didn’t feel guilty for using my injuries as an excuse when I wanted to.
‘Well, maybe I will let you tie me up and maybe not…’ She started backing towards the door.
I snatched up an ice bucket I’d left some champagne chilling in, ready for the moment. But the moment wasn’t now. It had come and gone again – it kept doing that. There was always a reason not to say the words.
I wanted to say them during this holiday, though. I was going to find a time.
We went up to the little double bed we’d had sex in the first time we’d come up here. I was going to christen every bed in the house with her this time around, and every room.
She started undressing, and I undressed. Then she lay down on the bed, all naked pale skin. I turned and pulled my tie out of the drawer, then made her stand in front of me while I tied her wrists. ‘You can tie the wrist of my good arm to the bed tomorrow night if you want.’
‘It’s okay, I enjoy you tying me up too.’
Laughter rumbled in my chest as I picked up a piece of ice. ‘Lie down.’
‘Yes, sir.’
I climbed on the bed and knelt beside her, which was awkward because my left knee only bent to about ninety degrees, but I was slowly forcing it into moving more.
I teased her nipple with the ice.
‘Ah, ow. That’s cold.’
‘Makes the heart race wondering where I’m going to put it next, though.’
She laughed, her eyes watching me. It was sunset and the vivid orange-and-red sunlight spilled into the room, gilding her as I ran the ice down her beautiful sternum.
My vision caught the scar on my arm. I was trying not to look at my scars. I hadn’t got used to them. They were memories I didn’t really want. They made me think of her ex. But the cardigan-wearing nutter was in prison, serving out a couple of years for not being able to let her go. And she’d called me Captain Control.
If she ever decided to leave me, though, I’d probably go as mad as him.
The ice melted on her rigid stomach, dripping off the sides and then I shifted. Lifting a leg so she could move hers and I could kneel, awkwardly, between her legs.
I slid the last of the melting ice inside her, then raised her legs so she could lift her hips, and shuffled down the bed then licked the cold melting water out from within her. Her body was like silk, warm silk, compared to the water.
I messed around with the ice on her body, while I teased her with my teeth, biting then sucking and then her hips rocked up against me searching for the depth of my tongue as shameless as she’d always been, seeking the orgasm she wanted.
This was my passionate, perfect, Ivy.
When she came, her tied hands came down from above her head and clasped my hair, as her taste tingled sour on my tongue, and her inner muscle pulsed about the finger I slipped into her, just to feel it.
I tumbled on to my back. It was not what I wanted to do. I wanted to flip her over and do it that way, but she knew that our sex life was as limited as my climbing – the pain from the scarring in my muscle became too much after my legs had been bent for too long.
She didn’t say anything about it, just rolled over and knelt up, balancing on her tied-up hands. She smiled at me as she straddled me; I positioned everything. I didn’t untie her and she didn’t ask me to. The side of her hands pressed down on my chest. Then she slid down on to me and took control.
Yes.
She had a lot of control in every element our relationship. Most of it. I loved her, regardless. I was over that. A recovered control addict.
She lifted up a little so I had to push up into her, pressing my heels into the sheets, as I gripped her thighs.
I held her gaze as the sun set behind her, the sky growing darker and darker.
I knew where and when I was going to propose. I knew the perfect place, and the perfect hour.