A few minutes more of puffing and panting, climbing steeply through trees and saplings, brought them up above the wood and to the edge of a grassy slope. Another hundred yards and they could go over a fence and on to the viaduct. Though no word had passed between them on the subject, it was inevitable that they should end up on the viaduct, one of the most fascinating places in their entire world…
The massive structure had been built when first the collieries of the north-east opened up, long before plans were drawn up for the major coast road, and now it linked twin colliery villages that lay opposite each other across the narrow river valley it spanned. Originally constructed solely to accommodate the railway, and used to that end to this very day, with the addition of a walkway, it also provided miners who lived in one village but worked in the other with a short cut to their respective coalmines.
While the viaduct itself was of sturdy brick, designed to withstand decade after decade of the heavy traffic that rumbled and clattered across its triple-arched back, the walkway was a comparatively fragile affair. That is not to say that it was not safe, but there were certain dangers and notices had been posted at its approaches to warn users of the presence of at least an element of risk.
Supported upon curving metal arms—iron bars about one and a half inches in diameter which, springing from the brick and mortar of the viaduct wall, were set perhaps twenty inches apart—the walkway itself was of wooden planks protected by a fence five feet high. There were, however, small gaps where rotten planks had been removed and never replaced, but the miners who used the viaduct were careful and knew the walkway’s dangers intimately. All in all the walkway served a purpose and was reasonably safe; one might jump from it, certainly, but only a very careless person or an outright fool would fall. Still, it was no place for anyone suffering from vertigo…
Now, as they climbed the fence to stand gazing up at those ribs of iron with their burden of planking and railings, the two boys felt a strange, headlong rushing emotion within them. For this day, of course, was the day!
It had been coming for almost a year, since the time when John had stood right where he stood now to boast: “One day I’ll swing hand over hand along those rungs, all the way across. Just like Tarzan.” Yes, they had sensed this day’s approach, almost as they might sense Christmas or the beginning of long, idyllic summer holidays…or a visit to the dentist. Something far away, which would eventually arrive, but not yet.
Except that now it had arrived.
“One hundred and sixty rungs,” John breathed, his voice a little fluttery, feeling his palms beginning to itch. “Yesterday, in the playground, we both did twenty more than that on the climbing-frame.”
“The climbing-frame,” answered David, with a naïve insight and vision far ahead of his age, “is only seven feet high. The viaduct is about a hundred and fifty.”
John stared at his friend for a second and his eyes narrowed. Suddenly he sneered. “I might have known it—you’re scared, aren’t you?”
“No,” David shook his head, lying, “but it’ll soon be lunch-time, and—”
“You are scared!” John repeated. “Like a little kid. We’ve been practising for months for this, every day of school on the climbing-frame, and now we’re ready. You know we can do it.” His tone grew more gentle, urging: “Look, it’s not as if we can’t stop if we want to, is it? There’s holes in the fence, and those big gaps in the planks.”
“The first gap,” David answered, noticing how very far away and faint his own voice sounded, “is almost a third of the way across…”
“That’s right,” John agreed, nodding his head eagerly. “We’ve counted the rungs, haven’t we? Just fifty of them to that first wide gap. If we’re too tired to go on when we get there, we can just climb up through the gap on to the walkway.”
David, whose face had been turned towards the ground, looked up. He looked straight into his friend’s eyes, not at the viaduct, in whose shade they stood. He shivered, but not because he was cold.
John stared right back at him, steadily, encouragingly, knowing that his smaller friend looked for his approval, his reassurance. And he was right, for despite the fact that their ages were very close, David held him up as some sort of hero. No daredevil, David, but he desperately wished he could be. And now…here was his chance.
He simply nodded—then laughed out loud as John gave a wild whoop and shook his young fists at the viaduct. “Today we’ll beat you!” he yelled, then turned and clambered furiously up the last few yards of steep grassy slope to where the first rung might easily be reached with an upward spring. David followed him after a moment’s pause, but not before he heard the first arch of the viaduct throw back the challenge in a faintly ringing, sardonic echo of John’s cry: “Beat you…beat you…beat you…”
As he caught up with his ebullient friend, David finally allowed his eyes to glance upward at those skeletal ribs of iron above him. They looked solid, were solid, he knew—but the air beneath them was very thin indeed. John turned to him, his face flushed with excitement. “You first,” he said.
“Me?” David blanched. “But—”
“You’ll be up on to the walkway first if we get tired,” John pointed out. “Besides, I go faster than you—and you wouldn’t want to be left behind, would you?”
David shook his head. “No,” he slowly answered, “I wouldn’t want to be left behind.” Then his voice took on an anxious note: “But you won‘t hurry me, will you?”
“’Course not,” John answered. “We’ll just take it nice and easy, like we do at school.”
Without another word, but with his ears ringing strangely and his breath already coming faster, David jumped up and caught hold of the first rung. He swung forward, first one hand to the rung in front, then the other, and so on. He heard John grunt as he too jumped and caught the first rung, and then he gave all his concentration to what he was doing.
Hand over hand, rung by rung, they made their way out over the abyss. Below them the ground fell sharply away, each swing of their arms adding almost two feet to their height, seeming to add tangibly to their weight. Now they were silent, except for an occasional grunt, saving both breath and strength as they worked their way along the underside of the walkway. There were only the breezes that whispered in their ears and the infrequent toot of a motor‘s horn on the distant road.
As the bricks of the wall moved slowly by, so the distance between rungs seemed to increase, and already David’s arms felt tired. He knew that John, too, must be feeling it, for while his friend was bigger and a little stronger, he was also heavier. And sure enough, at a distance of only twenty-five, maybe thirty rungs out towards the centre, John breathlessly called for a rest.
David pulled himself up and hung his arms and his rib-cage over the rung he was on—just as they had practised in the playground—getting comfortable before carefully turning his head to look back. He was shocked to see that John’s face was paler than he’d ever known it, and that his eyes were staring. When John saw David’s doubt, however, he managed a weak grin.
“It’s OK,” he said. “I was—I was just a bit worried about you, that’s all. Thought your arms might be getting a bit tired. Have you—have you looked down yet?”
“No,” David answered, his voice mouse-like. No, he said again, this time to himself, and I’m not going to! He carefully turned his head back to look ahead, where the diminishing line of rungs seemed to stretch out almost infinitely to the far side of the viaduct.