Six: The mountain climber

Unexpectedly, he looked down and gave me a sweet, mesmerising smile. I had to crane my neck up to see his wide face properly. His nose was slightly knobbly as if it had been broken before. His eyes were soft, warm and dreamy.

"Ah! My trolley! Look out! Get out of the way!"

A yellow chequered courier raced after what looked like a heavy load of boxes tied to a flat trolley that was running away from him. The crowd scattered and squeezed to the sides. It was coming right at me and with people all around me, I had nowhere to go.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited for the inevitable. Instead of the impending crash, I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist, whirling me around. Opening my eyes, I saw that the mountain climbing man I had been admiring had swung me to safety on the other side of him and he had stopped the runaway trolley with his foot.

Now that I could get a closer look at his boots, they reminded me of policemen or security guards. Perhaps he was a plainclothesman.

"Sorry. So sorry, everyone. Thank you, sir. Thank you so much."

"Keep a tight grip on it," the mountain climbing man nodded with a solemn expression. His voice sounded like a low tenor. Not quite low enough to be a baritone but low enough for the vibrations of his voice to be felt by me through his chest. He was still holding me firmly to his side. It felt very comfortable. As if I fit and belonged there beside him.

Pity he probably just saw me as a random passerby in need. Such a great man would never look at a little person like me.

"Are you alright, Miss?" the mountain climber looked down at me, giving my shoulders a light squeeze.

I nodded in reply while trying to find my tongue.

"Th-thank you," I stammered, feeling my face heating up. Why was it suddenly so hot?

"Be careful," he smiled and I could feel my face blushing even harder. He released his broad hands from my shoulders. "You shouldn't hang around the train station. Go home. It's going to get dangerous later."

"Are they expecting the floods and storm to be that bad when it hits?" I asked and glanced past the barrier of ticket machines to see whether the train had arrived yet. "I'm waiting for my brother."

"Do you have an umbrella?" the man blinked as if I had given an unexpected reply and looked at the lunch bag I was carrying. "You're going to need one."

"I'll run," I grinned up at the man, craning my neck just to be able to look into his gentle eyes. If there was more space, I would stand further away in order to be able to admire his features without hurting my neck but it was too crowded for that. Rushing people knocked me back into his arms and he steadied me against his firm body. In looking into his eyes, I forgot what else I was going to say.

There was a flash of lightning outside followed by a sudden crack of thunder that rolled and boomed. The suddenness made me jump in surprise and the man instinctively tightened his arms around me. To anybody else, it might look like we were lovers. Lovers. I didn't mind the thought. I'd never had a boyfriend before and was interested to know what all the hype was about.

The steady drumming of the rain grew harder and louder, tuning into a roar that almost drowned out the murmuring of the crowds inside the train station. I could hear people almost shouting at each other to be heard.

"The rain's so heavy that it hurts!" some guy shouted to his friend when they ducked into the train station in order to escape from the deluge.

"Don't wait around any longer than you have to," the mountain climber leaned down and closed the distance between our faces so that I could hear him. "Go home as fast as you can. Don't get wet."

"Small chance of that," I replied with good cheer. It wasn't often a handsome stranger was willing to make small talk with someone as unnoticeable as me, if you know what I mean. I stepped back in order not to overstay my welcome and he let me go. "With the rain pouring down like it is, it'll be a miracle if any part of me is dry by the time I get home even if I had an umbrella, which I don't. I forgot it this morning in the rush to get out the door. There's enough rain to flood a swimming pool."

"There are reports of flooding outside the city. The runoff water is coming this way. Go home before the flood hits us. I don't know why the station hasn't made the announcement to clear the area out yet," he said in an utterly serious voice.

"I'll leave once my brother gets here. The train's late," I promised.

The mountain man rubbed the scar on his chin and turned around to answer his ringing mobile phone.

I watched the puddles outside merging together until there was a shallow stream of water growing below the train tracks. With the train line running in a deep valley between two steep banks, the storm water must have been draining down into the train track valley, increasing the amount of water flowing through. The storm water drains must not have been big enough or something. I'd never heard of rain so big that the city got flooded before. It had been dark and stormy all the past few days, but today was the worst.

When the train finally arrived with a spray of water, everyone got off and an announcement was made that this train was not taking any more passengers. The railway was becoming too unstable with the rising water. There was crowded confusion and irritated people milling all over the place. Train station workers urged people to leave and to find other transport home. It didn't help that even the busses weren't running due to the strong winds and bad weather. All motorists were being urged to stay home. The train had trundled away and we had watched in awed dismay when a large surge of water washed down the train tracks from higher up in the valley, making the train wobble on its tracks and nearly fall. The train paused and then continued with some trepidation until it was out of sight. The murky water swirled, creeping higher and higher.

Spotting my brother's pineapple hairdo - the result of unbrushed hair in the morning - amidst the sea of people, I pushed my way through the crowd to grab him and pull him to where there was more space.

"Hey, Henry," I said. "Come on. We're going to have to walk home and cross the tracks before the water gets deep enough to cover the pedestrian crossing too. They really should have built that overpass they said they were going to build for the past five years."

"I don't have an umbrella," he grumbled. "We're gonna get wet."

"Forget it. The wind's too strong for umbrellas. We can run. You need the exercise and could probably do with a shower anyway."

"Hey," he complained at my poke at his usual hygiene practices.

"Hey look," I pointed at the rising water, where a floating, staring fish was washed by. It almost felt like an ominous warning. Where could the fish have come from? "A dead fish."