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She ventured to say, ‘But what will you do when the ladder runs out?’
For a moment he looked at her as though he’d never seen her before.
Then recognition kicked in, and he said curtly, ‘I’ll climb.’
He turned away without waiting for her reply and the next moment was climbing the ladder swiftly, two rungs at a time, until he reached the base of the third balcony. Seizing the wrought iron, he managed to haul himself to the upper rim while the crowd below gasped. Ferne gazed in awe, thinking how strong his arms must be to manage that.
Having mounted the balcony, he climbed up onto the rail and leapt upwards. It was only a small distance, but it was enough to take him to the base of the next balcony where he did the same thing, managing to climb up there too.
One more to go. Thank goodness, Ferne thought, that he was so tall and so long in the leg. A shorter man could never have managed those leaps.
Now he was there, soothing the child. But how was he going to descend with him? Those watching below saw Dante take a hard, considering look down, then nod as though the decision was made. He turned and knelt down so that the child could climb onto his back; his arms wound tightly about Dante’s neck. The next moment he’d swung over the balcony, going down the iron railings inch by inch until he reached the bottom and hung there.
Everyone below held their breath, wondering what he could possibly do now. He soon showed them, swinging back and forth until he could risk releasing the rail, and taking a flying leap onto the balcony below. It seemed an impossible trick, yet he managed it, throwing himself forward at the last minute so that he landed on his knees, and that the child on his back was safe and unhurt.
Nearly done. One more leap before they reached the safety of the ladder. Could he make it, or would they both plunge to earth? Down below hands were raised up as if everyone feared the worst and would try to catch them.
Dante didn’t hesitate, swinging over the balcony, working his way down the railings, then taking the leap. A roar broke from the crowd as he landed safely.
A man had climbed the ladder and now reached out to take Nico, helping him down to safety while Dante remained on the balcony, breathing hard. Cheers and applause broke out as the child reached the ground, but nobody could relax until his rescuer was also safe. At last Dante reached for the ladder and climbed down to a deafening roar.
Ferne felt the tears pouring down her cheeks. She couldn’t have said why she was weeping, whether it was fear for Dante or pride in him, but she was filled with feelings that threatened to explode.
He gave her a brief smile and went to the mother, who was in transports of delight, uttering passionate thanks that seemed to embarrass him. She was clinging to the child, who seemed dazed and unresponsive, but who suddenly seemed to awaken and look around him, searching for something. When he didn’t find it, he began to scream.
‘Pini?’ he cried. ‘Pini! He’ll die—he’ll die!’
‘Is that another child?’ Ferne asked. ‘Does he mean someone’s still in there?’
‘No, Pini is his puppy,’ said his mother. ‘He must be out here somewhere.’
‘No, no!’ Nico sobbed. ‘He’s still in there. He’ll die.’
His mother tried desperately to soothe him.
‘Caro, it can’t be helped. Nobody can risk their life for a dog.’
Nico began to scream. ‘Pini! Pini, Pini…!’
‘He’s probably dead already,’ somebody said. ‘He must have been overcome by the smoke—he won’t have suffered.’
‘No, there!’ came a shout from the crowd.
Everyone looked up, gasping at the sight of the little dog appearing at the window. He was barking and looking around him in fear and bewilderment. Screams rose from the crowd as his inevitable fate approached, and Nico began to struggle, trying to escape.
‘Pini, Pini—I’m coming!’
‘No!’ cried his mother, clutching him tightly.
‘Stay there,’ Dante said sharply. ‘Just don’t move.’
The next moment he was running headlong back to the building.
There were more screams from the crowd as they realised what he meant to do.
‘He’s crazy—does he want to be killed? Does he know what he’s doing? Stop him!’
But Ferne had seen the reckless determination in his eyes and knew that nothing could have stopped him. Terrified, she watched as he reached the house and began climbing up the ladder through the smoke that now seemed to surround everything. Every time he vanished, she was convinced she wouldn’t see him again, but somehow he always managed to reappear, higher and higher, closer to the place where the dog was looking down, yelping with terror.
By now two fire-engines had arrived, but had to stop at the end of the narrow street. Seeing what was happening, the firemen came running along the street with a detachable ladder and sent it shooting up towards Dante. Mercifully it was longer than the first one, but when they shouted at him to climb onto it he merely glanced down at them, shook his head and turned back, heading up again.
He’d reached the last balcony, but now his luck ran out. As soon as he seized it, the wrought iron pulled away from the crumbling brickwork so that one end came completely free, swinging down violently. Screams came from the crowd as Dante hung from the iron, seemingly with no way to save himself. The firemen were working the ladder, trying to get it closer to him.
Ferne watched, her heart in her mouth, unable to endure looking, yet equally unable to turn away. It was surely impossible that he could come through this alive?
Then he kicked against the wall hard enough to swing out and up. From somewhere he found the strength to reach higher, and begin to climb up the swinging balcony. He did it again and again, inching closer to the window where the dog was shivering.
Cheers rose as he finally made it, but as he reached for the dog the animal vanished into the building. Dante hauled himself in, also vanishing, and everyone below held their breath. The next moment there came a crash from inside. Smoke billowed from the window, and an appalled hush fell over the onlookers. He was dead. He must be.
Ferne buried her face in her hands, praying frantically. He couldn’t die. He mustn’t.
Then a shout of triumph went up. ‘There he is!’
Dante had reappeared at another window, further down, with the dog in his arms. Now he was closer to the ladder with the fireman at the top. A little more manoeuvring, and it was near enough for him to reach down and hand the animal to the fireman, who began to back down the rungs, leaving the top of the ladder free for Dante to follow.
It was nearly over. He reached the ladder, climbed onto it and started the descent. In another moment, he would be safe.
But then something seemed to halt him. He froze and stayed there, clinging on, leaning against the metal, his eyes closed, his head hanging down.
‘Oh heavens, he’s passed out!’ Ferne whispered. ‘It’s the smoke.’
The fireman passed the dog to another man further down, then climbed back up to Dante, positioning himself ready to catch him if he fell, reaching up to touch him.
To everyone’s relief Dante seemed to come out of his trance and look around him. At last he managed to move and complete the journey down.
As he reached the ground, the cheers broke out again. He shook his head as though to clear it and, seeming to return to reality, took the dog from the fireman and carried it to the child, who screamed in ecstasy.
If the crowd had cheered him before, they now went completely mad. A man who risked himself for a child was a hero; a man who took the same risks for a dog was a wonderful madman.
Yes, a madman, Ferne thought, trying to still her thumping heart. A glorious madman, but still a man who didn’t live on the same planet as everyone else.
He seemed strangely unwilling to enjoy the praise he’d won. They tried to hoist him shoulder-high, but now all he wanted was to escape.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, grasping her hand.
CHAPTER FIVE
THEY ran from the crowd, dodging the outstretched hands, darting through street after street until they were lost and their pursuers were far behind.
‘Where are we?’ she asked.
‘Who cares? Anywhere.’
‘And where’s the car?’
‘Anywhere. What does it matter?’
‘Will you talk sense?’ she laughed. She was on a high of relief.
‘No. Why talk sense? When was it ever sensible to be sensible?’
‘Never for you; I can see that,’ she said tenderly. ‘Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe.’
‘Wherever you say. Lead on.’
She suddenly felt protective. Taking his hand as she might have taken the hand of a child, she led him until they found a small café with a table on the pavement where they could let the sun drench them.
‘I need this,’ he said, ‘after all that smoke. I also need a drink, but I suppose I’d better not have one since I have to drive home—when we find the car.’ He began to laugh. ‘Where are we going to find it? Where do we start?’
‘I think I remember the street. Don’t worry about it now.’
When the waiter had taken their order, he leaned back, looking at her. There was exhilaration in his eyes.
‘Dante, for pity’s sake,’ she said, taking hold of his hand again. ‘Will you come down to earth?’
‘I thought that was what I’d just done.’
‘You know what I mean. You’re up in the stratosphere somewhere. Come back down to the same planet as the rest of us.’
‘What for? I like it up here.’ He turned his hand so that now he was holding her. ‘Come up here with me. It’s a great life. I’ve never had such fun.’
‘Fun? You could have died!’
‘Well, the strangest things can be fun if you look at them the right way.’
‘You could have died,’ she repeated slowly, as if to an idiot.
‘But I didn’t. I could have, but I didn’t. Don’t you understand? It’s been a great day.’
‘How can you say that?’ she exploded. ‘How can you sit there as if it was nothing? Of all the mad things to do! To save a child, yes, that’s wonderful. But to take such a risk for a dog—what were you thinking of?’
‘I’m a dog lover. And that little boy would have been broken-hearted if I’d left his dog to die.’
‘And what about you? Don’t you mind if you live or die?’
He shrugged. ‘I don’t worry about it. It’ll happen when it happens.’
‘It’ll happen a lot sooner if you take crazy risks.’
‘Maybe it will, maybe it won’t. What’s wrong with taking risks? Life’s better that way. Think of it as doing the quick-step with fate as your partner. You go faster and faster, never knowing which of you is going to reach the edge first. Everything is possible; it’s the only way to live. And, if not, better to die like that than, well, some of the other ways.’
‘You nearly came to grief,’ she reminded him. ‘When you were on top of the ladder you seemed to collapse. You just clung there and I thought you were going to fall. What happened?’
‘Nothing. You imagined it.’
‘But I didn’t. You slumped against the ladder.’
‘I don’t remember. There was smoke everywhere and a lot of things passed me by. It doesn’t matter now. Let’s leave it.’
‘I don’t think we ought to leave it. You may have been affected in some way that isn’t obvious yet. I want a doctor to have a look at you.’
‘There’s no need,’ he said in a voice suddenly full of tension. ‘It’s over.’
‘But you don’t know that,’ she pleaded. ‘You passed out on the top of that ladder and—’
‘How the hell do you know?’
The sudden cold fury in his voice was like a slap in the face, making her flinch back.
‘You weren’t up there; you don’t know what happened,’ he snapped. ‘You saw me close my eyes against the smoke and give myself a moment’s rest before climbing down the rest of the way. And that’s all! Don’t start dramatising.’
‘I didn’t mean—I’m just worried about you.’
‘Do I look as if I need worrying about?’ he asked in a voice that was now quiet and steely.
Ferne was struggling to come to terms with the terrible transformation in him, and she had to take a deep breath before she could reply bravely, ‘Yes, actually, you do. Everyone needs worrying about. Why should you be any different? Something dreadful has happened to you. It might have made you ill and I simply want to find out. Why should that make you angry?’
‘Why does any man get angry at being fussed over? Just leave it, please.’
His voice was still quiet, but now there was something in it that was almost a threat.
‘But—’
‘I said leave it.’
She didn’t dare to say any more, and that word ‘dare’ told her what a dreadful thing had happened. The mere thought of being afraid of Dante was incredible, and yet she was. This was more than masculine irritation at being ‘fussed over’, it was bitter, terrifying rage.
But he was recovering himself. Before her eyes, the temper drained out of him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m not quite myself. I’ll be all right soon. Just promise me one thing—you won’t say anything about this at home.’
‘Not tell them about the fire? I think that story will get around somehow.’
‘I don’t mean that. I meant the other thing, that I had a bad moment on the ladder. Hope worries easily. Say nothing.’
When she hesitated he said, ‘You must give me your word.’
‘All right,’ she said quickly. She had a fearful feeling that his rage was on the verge of rising again.
