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Authors: Paula Rawsthorne
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fence; less like a wood and more like a forest. Here the air was more balmy and sweet-smelling, infused with the scent of flowers that
blossomed from lush bushes. Ivy entwined around towering trunks and giant ferns sprouted from the fertile soil. And the noise! The deeper she ventured, the more intense the birdsong was, which
mingled with the sound of crickets as if in some eccentric orchestra.
There was no pathway; no evidence that another human being had ever set foot in here. The vegetation was so dense now that it was impossible to see any distance ahead. But Celia kept pushing
forward, drawn by the mesmerizing birdsong. She started to feel a sense of urgency rising in her. She had to know what lay ahead. Quickening her pace, she strode across the forest floor, weaving in
and out of the trees, jumping over roots. She was almost running now, focusing on the birdsong, light on her feet, giddy with anticipation. A cluster of ferns lay ahead, like enormous fans blocking
her path. She flew at them, brushing them aside with both hands without missing a step, emerging into dazzling sunlight. She didn’t even have time to realize that the ground was no longer
beneath her feet as she plummeted over the edge of the cliff.
It all happened in an instant. She heard flapping birds scattering in fright and saw a flash of green sticking out from the rock face as she hurtled towards it. She instinctively grabbed for it
and the next moment her descent was halted. Winded and dazed, Celia found herself clinging to a thick, sprawling bush that was growing out of the cracks in the rock. Gripping the mass of spindly
branches, she looked down and saw, some six metres below, her terrified dangling image reflected in sparkling, blue water. Turning her head very slowly, she looked around. A lake stretched out
below, strewn with lily pads, humming with hovering dragonflies. It was encircled by formidable cliffs. The only possible place to gain access to it was opposite, where enormous slabs of blue-grey
slate ran down the side of the cliff face, forming a staircase to the water’s edge.
Celia looked up. The smooth rock face loomed above her and she immediately knew that there was no way she could climb back to the top. Her dangling feet desperately felt around for any kind of
support. She shrieked as her movement unsettled her refuge and fragments of rock started to fall away from around the bush and hit the water with echoing plops.
Her arms were aching. The newly healed wound from Jenkins’s knife throbbed and strained. She couldn’t hold on much longer. The deep, blue water beckoned her.
Celia cursed Janice. I’m going to die because of her!
Janice had never allowed Celia to learn how to swim. It seemed ironic, now, that swimming was on Janice’s endless list of activities that she’d considered too risky for her
child.
Celia shrieked as the bush sagged lower under the weight of her body.
“Help, please, someone, help me!” Her voice rang out into the isolation.
Suddenly she heard an almighty splash as something entered the water. Celia craned her neck to see, as her hands started to slip down the branches. The head and shoulders of a boy bobbed up from
under the water. It was difficult to make out his age. His boyish, smooth brown face and skinny arms gave nothing away.
“Jump,” he shouted up at her. “Push yourself away from the rock and just jump in.”
“I can’t jump. I can’t swim!”
Alarm flashed across the boy’s face. “But there’s no other way. Get rid of your bag and chuck yourself down.”
“I’ll drown!”
“You’re going to fall any second anyway. You’ve got no choice. You jump and I’ll get you out of here.”
“Can you? Can you really?” she shouted with relief and disbelief.
“Of course I can,” the boy replied, looking terrified.
Celia threw her bag into the lake and then, closing her eyes tightly, she filled her lungs with air and let go, pushing away from the cliff
blossomed from lush bushes. Ivy entwined around towering trunks and giant ferns sprouted from the fertile soil. And the noise! The deeper she ventured, the more intense the birdsong was, which
mingled with the sound of crickets as if in some eccentric orchestra.
There was no pathway; no evidence that another human being had ever set foot in here. The vegetation was so dense now that it was impossible to see any distance ahead. But Celia kept pushing
forward, drawn by the mesmerizing birdsong. She started to feel a sense of urgency rising in her. She had to know what lay ahead. Quickening her pace, she strode across the forest floor, weaving in
and out of the trees, jumping over roots. She was almost running now, focusing on the birdsong, light on her feet, giddy with anticipation. A cluster of ferns lay ahead, like enormous fans blocking
her path. She flew at them, brushing them aside with both hands without missing a step, emerging into dazzling sunlight. She didn’t even have time to realize that the ground was no longer
beneath her feet as she plummeted over the edge of the cliff.
It all happened in an instant. She heard flapping birds scattering in fright and saw a flash of green sticking out from the rock face as she hurtled towards it. She instinctively grabbed for it
and the next moment her descent was halted. Winded and dazed, Celia found herself clinging to a thick, sprawling bush that was growing out of the cracks in the rock. Gripping the mass of spindly
branches, she looked down and saw, some six metres below, her terrified dangling image reflected in sparkling, blue water. Turning her head very slowly, she looked around. A lake stretched out
below, strewn with lily pads, humming with hovering dragonflies. It was encircled by formidable cliffs. The only possible place to gain access to it was opposite, where enormous slabs of blue-grey
slate ran down the side of the cliff face, forming a staircase to the water’s edge.
Celia looked up. The smooth rock face loomed above her and she immediately knew that there was no way she could climb back to the top. Her dangling feet desperately felt around for any kind of
support. She shrieked as her movement unsettled her refuge and fragments of rock started to fall away from around the bush and hit the water with echoing plops.
Her arms were aching. The newly healed wound from Jenkins’s knife throbbed and strained. She couldn’t hold on much longer. The deep, blue water beckoned her.
Celia cursed Janice. I’m going to die because of her!
Janice had never allowed Celia to learn how to swim. It seemed ironic, now, that swimming was on Janice’s endless list of activities that she’d considered too risky for her
child.
Celia shrieked as the bush sagged lower under the weight of her body.
“Help, please, someone, help me!” Her voice rang out into the isolation.
Suddenly she heard an almighty splash as something entered the water. Celia craned her neck to see, as her hands started to slip down the branches. The head and shoulders of a boy bobbed up from
under the water. It was difficult to make out his age. His boyish, smooth brown face and skinny arms gave nothing away.
“Jump,” he shouted up at her. “Push yourself away from the rock and just jump in.”
“I can’t jump. I can’t swim!”
Alarm flashed across the boy’s face. “But there’s no other way. Get rid of your bag and chuck yourself down.”
“I’ll drown!”
“You’re going to fall any second anyway. You’ve got no choice. You jump and I’ll get you out of here.”
“Can you? Can you really?” she shouted with relief and disbelief.
“Of course I can,” the boy replied, looking terrified.
Celia threw her bag into the lake and then, closing her eyes tightly, she filled her lungs with air and let go, pushing away from the cliff
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