The Atlas of Us

‘Have you got something on under your jumper?’ he asked, his eyes running over her.

She felt her cheeks flush. ‘Yes, a T-shirt.’

‘Take your jumper off then.’

‘Why?’

‘To protect your hands. We’re going to have to pull him up via the remainder of the rope.’

‘Isn’t that risky? What if it breaks too?’

‘It shouldn’t, not with my coat protecting it from the friction caused by the cliff edge. The risk of us doing nothing is greater.’

‘Right,’ she said, pulling her jumper off to reveal a Bob Dylan 1984 tour T-shirt. She looked down at Milo’s hands. ‘What about you?’

‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Don’t be silly. We can use some of my jumper too.’

‘Are you sure? I’ll have to tear it.’

She tried not to think about the fact Ben had bought it for her. ‘It’s fine, really.’

Milo helped her tear off an arm of the jumper and wrapped it around his large hands before running back to the cliff edge.

‘What’s your name?’ he shouted down to the man.

‘Matt,’ the man shouted back up.

‘Right, Matt. You’ve got yourself into a dangerous situation here. We’re going to pull you up via the intact rope. Can you give me some slack please so I can take some of the rope?’

‘What if it breaks?’ Matt asked, his voice shrill now.

‘It won’t. My coat’s beneath it so it won’t get damaged.’

‘Hundred per cent sure?’

‘No. But I’m a hundred per cent sure the tide’s rising enough to drown you soon if we don’t try to get you up.’

Matt didn’t answer but Claire could imagine his face. She heard movement and saw the rope had slackened. Milo crouched down, taking hold of it.

‘Right,’ he shouted down to Matt. ‘You need to help us by pulling yourself up via any bits of rock you find on the way. But be careful not to swing. I’ll shout when we’re ready to start.’

He ran back over to Claire, feeding the rope through with his hands.

‘What if he’s too heavy and one of us stumbles?’ she asked him. ‘We could go over the edge.’

‘I won’t let that happen.’

‘But—’

‘I need you to trust me.’

She wanted to say How can I, I barely know you! But instead, one word popped out of her mouth. ‘Okay.’

‘Good.’ He lifted her hands up, tangling what remained of her jumper around them until they were protected by three inches of wool. ‘I need you to take hold of the rope there a few metres away and pull when I say – like a tug of war, right?’

He headed to the cliff edge, stopping about half a metre away from it. He then crouched down, taking hold of the rope as he dug his heels into the ground. Claire did the same, heart thumping.

‘Ready?’ Milo shouted down to Matt.

‘Yes,’ he shouted back up, voice hoarse with fear.

Milo started pulling, the muscles in the backs of his shoulders flexing as he slowly heaved backwards, feeding the rope back behind him as he pulled the slack. There was the sound of rocks falling in the distance, scrabbling feet, a cry of alarm.

The rope jolted and Claire let out a scream. Milo turned to look at her then started slipping forwards, feet trying to find traction in the ground as he drew closer and closer to the edge. Claire tried to pull him back with the rope but didn’t have the strength.

So she made a decision, doing something the old Claire would’ve done: she took a risk.

She let go of the rope and ran to Milo, crouching down and wrapping her hands around the rope closest to him, her knees against his back.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he asked her.

‘You need me here. Come on.’

He shot her an exasperated look then turned back to the front, pulling at the rope. Claire did the same, putting all her strength into it and dragging herself back. They staggered backwards and backwards until, finally, a hand slapped onto the cliff’s surface and Matt dragged himself up before collapsing onto the ground.

‘You okay?’ Milo asked him, flinching as he let go of the rope. Claire’s jumper was worn completely away and the skin on his palm red raw.

Matt nodded, unable to speak as he tried to catch his breath.

Milo turned to Claire. ‘You did great.’

She felt a strange sense of pride. She’d never done something like that, helped save a man’s life. It felt good. ‘Is this what happens when you take the better path?’ she asked Milo.

Milo put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Looks like it. Feels good, doesn’t it?’

Claire wasn’t sure what to make of the thunder of her heartbeat as he touched her.

Then she thought of Ben and moved away from him.

Matt stumbled over to them. ‘Thank you so much, both of you.’

‘You’re very lucky, mate,’ Milo said. ‘Just a few more moments and you’d have been fish food.’

A few minutes later, as they walked back to the inn, Matt stopped them, pointing into the distance. From there, they could just about make out the cliff face that had been hidden from them before – the part Matt had been climbing away from. On its side was a huge heart messily painted on the stone with pink paint.

‘I did it for my fiancée,’ he said.