Lit eZine Vol 9 | p-10 | FICTION | The Wolf’s Leap

SHORT STORY

THE WOLF’S LEAP
by Ian Forth

The key had been left at reception. How he loved the cool sadness of this place. Hugh took Leonor’s arm and helped her with the stairs. From their room, the view was as he remembered: the spindly olive trees, fields the colour of sand. Yet something was missing.

‘Remember the guy who used to sit throwing berries at the goats?’ Hugh asked.

‘He’ll have popped his clogs by now. He was ancient back then,’ she said.

They were still talking after the long journey.

‘Disappointing he didn’t make the effort,’ he said and added, ‘I’m off to the pool to read for a while, while you have your nap.’

Through the gap in the curtains, Leonor watched Hugh lower himself onto a sun lounger. He was up to something. She wasn’t sure what, but she’d find out. She’d always had mixed feelings about this hotel: the dark furniture, the odour of beeswax, the footworn tiles – polished by the village women every morning – were all oppressive to her. They must be the only guests at this time of year. No one else would be mad enough to stay in these sizzling temperatures.

Of course, she remembered the old goatherd. She also remembered the sunset that evening, the purple clouds, the glasses of cold wine. They’d been all lovey-dovey and waved at the old man from their balcony. He seemed oblivious, looking over his shoulder at his goats. They’d laughed at his confusion. Then, he’d waved back, and even did a few dance steps. But it was futile trying to step back in time.

Hugh realised he’d brought the wrong book to the pool. It was one of her ‘cosy mysteries.’ He couldn’t understand how she could read such rubbish. He remembered there was something else missing from the room, a memory he couldn’t bring himself to mention to her.

He stared at the light flickering on the surface. Leonor had been a natural swimmer when she was young. She must have been the daughter of a river creature, the way she held her breath, moving like a swathe of grass under the water, her tanned face breaking the surface, beads of moisture on her upper lip. Would he be capable of holding her head under the water? Could he do that? Could he push her skull down until the last bubble?

* * *

Hugh had planned to recreate the meal they’d had in the hotel restaurant all those years ago. He summoned the details: the tinkle of cutlery, the sly glances of the waitresses, their own mischievous laughter, the heady expectation of further intimacy when they returned to their room after dinner. He’d specified to the sharp-nosed receptionist that he wanted exactly the same table by the window.

It was tedious helping Leonor get dressed for the restaurant. His fat fingers fumbled with the fastenings. Helping her with her shoes was the most difficult part, and Hugh strained to pull and push them into place. He admired how she always insisted on looking her best.

She was unsteady on her feet, but he was pleased to see that the restaurant was also unchanged, the uniformed waitresses bobbing up and down respectfully. Then he saw a young couple sitting at the table he’d requested. Their table. The woman was plump and pretty with bright eyes that darted around the room like a bird. Hugh had spotted the man, with a huge back and small peanut-sized head, leaving the pool in the afternoon. He was still wearing the same white sports socks and ‘sliders’ with ‘JB’ printed in purple. They were in poor taste but probably obscenely expensive.

He was livid, but it would be upsetting for Leonor if he made a scene. He lowered his head to deflect the risk of small talk with the couple.

‘Hi there. I’m Bella, and this is Jay.’ The woman’s voice was loud and bouncy. Hugh noted the nearly empty bottle of Portalegre.

Before they’d sat down, Bella had shuffled her chair closer to their table.

‘Isn’t this place incredible? And so off the beaten track,’ she said, with fast plosive puffs.

‘When I woke up this morning, I was like, “I have to see the tiles in the chapel.” They are amazing, aren’t they, Jay?’

‘I wouldn’t go out of my way, if I’m honest,’ Jay said in a monotone.

‘Don’t mind misery guts. We’re here on our honeymoon,’ Bella announced, her face gleaming.

Hugh and Leonor stayed wordless. Everything went on pause. Of course, it was just a coincidence. In their day, the hotel was a rare discovery. It was their special place. But since then it had become well known as a location for newlyweds. Nevertheless, the universe was playing a cruel joke.

Leonor looked up and smiled miserably. This probably wasn’t the response Bella had expected. Hugh grimaced. Better to change the subject quickly.

‘Have you visited the Wolf’s Leap yet?’ he asked. ‘It’s a gorge not far from here. Time and erosion have created such amazing sculptures in the rocks. I can recommend it. If you go, dangle your feet in the water. It’s icy cold. You’ll want to sing.’

‘Is it easy to get to?’ Bella asked, the conversation now getting back on track.

Hugh was distracted for a moment. I can recommend it. Why was he encouraging them to go? But it was too late to backtrack.

‘Sorry? Yes, there are two roads to the gorge. Each one takes you to a different side of the river, deceptively narrow at that point. There’s a local tradition in the village that young men must prove their love for their sweetheart by leaping over the gorge. Many have tried.’

‘Oh, Jay. Did you hear that? That’s so romantic.’

‘You must be careful. The boulders are slippery, and the brume makes it tricky,’ Hugh said.

‘Tricky?’

‘To see clearly where you’re going.’

Bella turned to Jay and said proprietorially, ‘We’re going. Tomorrow. First thing.’

‘Sorry babe. You know old rocks aren’t my thing. I’m planning on chilling by the pool again tomorrow.’

Irritation flashed in Bella’s eyes, her lips distorting.

It was now Leonor’s turn to change the subject. She stood up, her face pinched with pain. She gripped the back of her chair to steady herself. Hugh had seen her having these moments so often he didn’t react, but Jay sprang to his feet and took her elbow. Leonor smiled up at him. How she loved the kindness of strangers, to be held and comforted, to feel protected. As Jay guided her, she looked back over her shoulder at Hugh as if to say, ‘This is all I want.’

* * *

That night, Hugh lay like a statue, staring at the ceiling while he listened to Leonor’s breathing. She always slept soundly, whereas for him, sleep was a battle. The evening hadn’t gone well. He should have put his foot down and insisted on some privacy. He cursed his indecisiveness. In the half-light, he saw Leonor’s grey hair peaking over the sheets, and sighed at the confusion of pills on her bedside table. She was always forgetting if she’d taken one or not, and, as tonight in the restaurant, sometimes took double the prescribed amount. He pulled his pillow over his face.

* * *

The early morning heat was pitiless. Hugh informed Leonor he wanted to see the Wolf’s Leap again.

‘It’ll be refreshing. Just what you need.’

‘I really don’t want to go,’ Leonor said.

Hugh’s mind was made up. He drove fast, as if late for an appointment.

The road petered out onto a gravel track that descended steeply, the car creating dust clouds as it slid on the dry stones. At the bottom, there was a rusty ‘Danger’ sign pockmarked with bullet holes, the locals using it as target practice. As he helped Leonor out of the car, Hugh made a careful note of her clothes: a blue T-shirt with a pink heart logo – These childish yearnings at her age – yoga leggings, trainers, and her beloved straw sun hat. As she struggled to keep her balance, he repeated the list to himself.

He could hear the loud, angry breath of the river.

‘Take me back to the car,’ she said, but he held her arm like a vice.

Approaching the rapids, they navigated the entwined rocks. Water roistered in the fissures; jagged limbs of sandstone reached out from the abysses.

‘You’re hurting me,’ she said.

Hugh pointed to a large boulder at the river’s edge, its surface slippery with green fungi.

‘I’ll never manage to get up there.’ Leonor moaned.

Hugh manhandled her. It wasn’t dignified, but she weighed nothing.

‘Let me take your shoes off.’

‘You’re crazy.’

Leonor sat barefoot with her knees against her chin, clenching her buttocks tight to keep a purchase on the rock. She pressed her palms flat like suction cups, not moving an inch. Below, the river twisted in agony. Soon they were both drenched.

Sitting behind her, Hugh made a decision. The setting was as he had imagined it. She would feel a slight pressure of his hand on her back before her fingers scrabbled to prevent her from falling. There would be no time for her to turn around, no time for him to see her fear.

Against the roar of the river, he heard a different sound, a sound that was familiar but which he hadn’t heard for years and years. There it was again, louder this time. It was the laughter of a young woman, a woman in love. Leonor let out another laugh and pointed through the mist at something on the other side of the river, something trapped against a rock, struggling to free itself.

She shuffled forward carefully to get a closer look.

‘Hugh, look, it’s a cat. A white cat.’

Any form of life seemed so remote in this churning chaos.

‘There’s another one coming downstream.’

The white object bobbed up and down before disappearing under the water. They both sat motionless, staring, waiting in expectation of the big reveal. Suddenly, the river propelled the object high up in the air, suspending it directly in front of them. It was within touching distance.

‘It’s a shoe. One of those plastic poolside shoes. With letters on it.’

It was absurd. This foamy plastic artefact from an alien world, hovering, trailing a delicate silver line of water beads. Leonor, open-mouthed, turned round to face Hugh. Her skin was petalled with moisture, and her eyes glistened, her hair dark again and plastered to her skull.

Suddenly, the shoe plummeted down into the rapids and vanished. She threw her head back and burst out laughing, her body shaking uncontrollably. He worried she was going to slip off the rock. He couldn’t help himself as he slid his arm around her, like the lover he used to be.