need.
And then a scream split the morning, a scream so high and terrified Meg’s heart seemed to stop. She forgot all about William, forgot about Millicent’s complications, and she started to run.
The concrete was as clean as he could make it. No speck of dirt was escaping his eagle eye this morning and he finally turned off the tap with regret. Move on to the next thing fast, he thought. He had today and tomorrow to get through while keeping things businesslike.
Meg would be in the kitchen, having breakfast. Yesterday he’d watched her eat toast. Before yesterday he’d never watched her eat toast. Yes, he travelled with her often, but when he did he ordered breakfast in his room. He wasted less time that way.
But yesterday he’d decided he liked watching her eat breakfast. Dumb or not, it wasn’t a bad way to waste time.
A man could waste a lot of time watching Meg.
And that was exactly what he was trying not to think. He wound the hose back onto the reel with more force than was necessary and thought he’d see if Scott was in the shed yet. It was after eight. He could talk to Scott for a while and then maybe Meg would be finished in the kitchen.
What sort of coward was he? What was to be afraid of, watching Meg eat toast?
Meg. Miss Jardine.
Meg.
He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Two days…
He could do this. He turned towards the house, irritated with himself. All this needed was a bit of discipline. Containment.
And then…a scream.
Forget containment. He ran.
It was Letty. Where? Where?
As Meg neared the house Letty screamed again.
Dear God…
She was high up on the roof, right by the Santa chimney. Had she been trying to fix him? But now wasn’t the time for questions. Letty was dangling from the ridge, tiny and frail and in deadly peril.
The roof had two inclines, the main one steep enough, but the attic gable rising even more steeply. The roof was old, the iron was rusting, and the capping on the high ridge had given way. Or was giving way. It hadn’t given completely.
It was all that was holding Letty up.
Scotty burst out of the house as Meg arrived. ‘Grandma!’
‘She’s on the roof.’
The capping tore again, just a little, iron scraping on iron. Letty lurched downward but somehow still held.
‘Grandma,’ Scott screamed, his voice breaking in terror. ‘Hang on!’
Meg was too busy to scream. How had she climbed? The ladder… Where? By the gate.
But then William was beside her, reaching the ladder before she did. ‘Hold it,’ he snapped. ‘Scott, hold the other side.’
The capping tore more, and Letty lurched again.
‘Letty, hold on,’ William ordered her, in a voice that brooked no argument. ‘Fingernails if you must, but do not let go. I’m coming.’
‘H…hurry.’
He was already climbing. ‘Keep still.’
How could you defy that voice? Why would you?
Nobody moved. Meg and Scott held to the ladder as if their lives depended on it.
Their lives didn’t. Letty’s did, and so did William’s.
The roof was high pitched, curved, dangerous, and the ladder only reached part way to the top ridge. William clambered over the main eaves as if they weren’t there. It was impossible to climb further, Meg thought numbly from underneath. The second gable was far too steep-but somehow William was doing it.
‘You’ll fall,’ she faltered.
‘Not me,’ he said, finding footholds she knew couldn’t exist. ‘Mountaineering 101-Basic skills for your modern businessman. Watch and wonder.’
She watched, and yes, she wondered, but it wasn’t admiration she was feeling. It was blind terror. Please. Please.
And then somehow, unbelievably, William was on the upper ridge, edging himself toward Letty. Santa’s sleigh was between them. He shoved; it tumbled back behind the house and no one noticed its going.
He edged closer…closer…while below him Meg and Scott forgot to breathe.
He’d reached her. He was steadying, stabilising himself over the ridge, grasping Letty’s wrists and holding.
He had her.
‘Don’t move. Just lie limp and let me pull you up.’
Scotty choked on a sob. Meg gripped his hand and held, taking comfort as well as giving it. Letty wasn’t safe yet. William was still balanced on a ridge with an already broken capping.
The ladder only reached to the eaves of the main roof, so what now? William might be able to climb up like a cat burglar. It was impossible that he climb down holding Letty.
‘Meg?’
‘Y…yes?’
‘I can’t get us down,’ he told her. ‘Not the way I came up. If I overbalance we’ll both go.’
She knew it. They needed the fire brigade, she thought. They needed help.
They had no phone. The nearest neighbour was a mile away, but William already knew that.
‘I’m buying you a satellite phone for Christmas,’ he muttered. ‘If it costs a million bucks you’re still having one.’ He had Letty solidly under the arms now and was hauling her upward like a limp doll. ‘So Letty, are you going to argue?’
‘N…No.’
‘Good woman.’ One last heave and he had her on the ridge, into his arms.
She was safe, Meg thought. Or…safeish. With the capping gone the whole attic roof looked unstable but at least Letty was no longer dangling.
But… Her wrist looked hurt. She could see a crimson stain from here. She was losing blood?
William was inching backward along the ridge, heading for the chimney. He could lean on the bricks. Safeish was turning to safe.
Sort of. Until he came to get her down.
‘This cut’s not looking good,’ he said, almost conversationally, and Meg thought he was trying not to scare Letty. But she knew this voice. It meant he wanted action, fast. He tugged Letty hard against him, leaned back against the chimney to make them both stable, then ripped the sleeve from his overalls, as if it was gauze instead of industrial-strength cotton. He wound the fabric round her arm and held her close.
‘So how did you get up here?’ he asked.
Letty didn’t answer. Not a good sign.
He stared downward, seemingly as mystified as Meg. That Letty could have scrambled up the way he had seemed incredible.
‘There…there’s another ladder,’ Scott ventured. He was shaking, and Meg’s hand firmed over his. ‘Another ladder?’
‘When I put the sleigh up I used two.’
‘You used two…’
‘It fell,’ Letty muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘As I reached the top. I grabbed, but it went and then I grabbed the capping.’
Meg was no longer listening. She was searching the under-growth, and here it was. Another ladder, buried behind the banksias.
