Fog

The rain let up for a few minutes as they climbed down from the peak, so they could actually see where they were going, although the wind was blowing hard. Louisa found it difficult to keep her footing as she stepped over a boulder, so Martin steadied her with both hands.

"Watch your footing there." He pointed out a pothole she was about to step down into.

"Thanks," she replied. "Oh no! More rain," she added as large drops started pelting them again.

Martin kept a hand on her as they picked their way along. "You said there was a path here?" All he could see were rocks and more rocks.

"Yeah, uhm, maybe." Louisa looked around, shielding her eyes. "Look ahead there. That's one of the ancient hut circles! Stone age!"

Martin could see a low ring of stones around 20 feet across, but several on one side were three or four feet high. "Can we shelter there?"

"What?" Louisa could barely hear him over the wind's screeching.

"Lay up against those rocks! Must get out of this wind!" Not just the wind, but with the rain, their bodies were now dealing with a much colder environment. He was now nearly shivering, and Louisa's smaller body would lose heat more rapidly than his.

"Fine!" Louisa led him way to the ring of stones. Three of them were quite large, as tall as Martin had guessed, and nearly six or seven feet long together.

He crouched down against the flat stones, putting his back to them and pulling her into his arms, got curled about her, after he turned up her coat collar as well as his.

Louisa touched his cheek which was cold to her touch. "Well, this is nice," Louisa told him. "Lunch, then a hike, a mountain vista, a thunderstorm and now a cuddle," she laughed.

"We must preserve body heat," he replied sternly. "We are soaked and in this wind…"

Louisa looked downslope. She could see a horse and her foal standing still, with rumps turned to the gusts and rain. Lucky animals, they have hairy coats. She looked at Martin's strained face then gave him a rueful grin as she shouted over the wind. "I guess this was a bad idea," she told him.

Martin sighed and bit off what he could have said. "Less than optimum," he replied after some consideration. Yes, a bad idea – a really terrible, awful, horrible idea. But here they were, cold and wet. He fingered her hair. At least she had more hair than he did, keeping her head warmer.

Louisa pointed out the scudding clouds overhead, then to the horses in the distance who were now gone from sight. "Horses were over there, but where did they disappear to?" she mumbled, as she realized they were hidden by a fog bank which was starting to rise across the broad valley. "Fog," she said.

Martin groaned. His watch showed it was well past four, it was raining, with thunder off over that way, and the sun would set soon on this November afternoon. "And dark coming on," he muttered, mostly to himself. Mid-November sunset would be just past 4:30.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" she said to him.

He squinted up the clouds, rainwater dripping from his eyebrows. "Yes."

Louisa touched his cheek with her cold hand. "Sorry, Martin."

He cocked his head to one side. "You didn't order up a thunderstorm."

She hugged him tightly. "At least we're in this together."

The rain tapered off as the storm moved to the east, and finally thunder shut off as well. Martin peered over the wall of their makeshift shelter. Other than tufty grass and a few rocks for 20 feet or less, all he could see now beyond that was swirling fog, driven by a cold wind. "Bugger."

"See anything?" Louisa asked for she had been looking the other way.

"Just this bloody fog." He peered around some more. "Now where is the carpark?" He stood up, then pointed towards what he thought was the west. "Must be that way?"

Louisa got up on her knees and looked where he was pointing. "We came down the hill on our right, right? And the ground slopes down to our left, so if we just keep, uhm, going downhill." She turned. "That way," she indicated down slope.

"But is there a road that way? Houses? Farms? Anything?"

She bit her lip. And then she snapped at him. "I don't have a map, Mar-tin! Plus, I haven't been up here since I was a child! And I don't have a photographic memory."

"I know that!" He knelt down to look at her face. "But it's getting dark and with this fog…"

They were both shaken by the ringing of Martin's mobile. He had to fumble around inside his coat and jacket to reach it but got it out and turned on after five rings. "Hello?"

"Mar… That you?" he heard. It was his aunt's voice.

"Joan!"

"Where… you…" the words were breaking up and faint; the signal erratic. "Nobody… the surgery! Brought… chicken hotpot… and…"

"Joan! We're on the moor!" he shouted. "Listen, Joan! We're stuck on…"

"Rough Tor, south side," Louisa added.

"Fogged in on Rough Tor, below the peak to the south!" he shouted into the mouthpiece.

"Why would… of good heavens! Well… home!" his aunt said.

Louisa shouted towards the phone. "We're lost, Joan!"

"Oh, dear. Don't panic. I'll… I'll… get Penhale…" then the call dropped.

Martin sighed. Penhale? The man was a fool; an agoraphobic fool. Martin pressed the redial button, but it would not connect.

Louisa pulled out her phone. "Let me try." Nothing. "Battery's flat; forgot to charge it." Wrapped in fog, cold and wet, and lost. What a great honeymoon, Louisa said to herself. She looked at her husband. "Come here, give us a cuddle."

Martin did as she requested. "Right." He tucked her head under his chin. "Not the honeymoon you dreamt of is it?"

Is it? She'd have preferred a trip to Mallorca or a sunny beach in Spain or even the Caribbean, but… no. Here on Bodmin Moor wet and cold, shivery, and with a cold rock digging into her backside, but Martin 's arms were tight around her. She entwined her fingers with his. "As long as I'm with you," she told him.

He cocked an eyebrow. She meant that, and just a day after she almost jilted him; but for that matter so had he, nearly. "Um, yes."

After a while the fog had lifted slightly, but with the clouds and darkness, it was better that they stay right there. Huddled together, the two of them wondered what bad thing might happen next.

=0=0=0=

Joan was as good as her word and better. She rousted out Joe Penhale from his telly and a football match. "But the home team has a penalty kick! Tied up!" he protested to her. "Besides Rough Tor is quite a ways out there and I'm sure they'll show up."

Joan marched around the police station desk and jabbed a finger at Joe's nose. "Listen you! Get up off your skinny backside and do something!"

Joe's face paled. Joan Norton could be formidable when her back was up. He stood up slowly, holding out his hands. "Now, now, Mrs. Norton, calm down," he backed away a step or two. He was thinking that if she got violent he could spray her with Mace, but the can was on his policeman's belt and that was in the other room. Damn!

Joan pursed her lips. "Look, Joe," trying to take a different tack, "just call for help, get Chippy and Al Large. Mike Chubb, anybody. Even Snowy Pete!"

"Snowy Pete?" Penhale scoffed. "Why he's nearly eighty!"

And he could run rings around you if he had to, she thought. "Look, Joe, do you want all of the village – all of Cornwall, even – to know that Joseph Penhale, Police Constable was called out for an emergency to the moor and didn't respond? That in so doing our GP and his new bride were left in real trouble? Well do you?"

Joe's face changed, but he stood straighter as he took a deep breath. "Right! The Doc needs me, and Louisa as well. Right! Can't let half of the Dynamic Duo down!"

Joan sighed. "Fine, Joe. Now, do you have a Royal Ordinance map hereabouts?"

He began to rifle through a chaotic pile of papers on the desk. "Got it!" He pulled out a creased map, covered with crumbs and a tea stain or two.

Joan decided to ignore his stained map. "Now Joe, can you find Rough Tor on it?"

Joe's finger wavered over the map. "Here! Right here!" he jabbed the spot that read, 'Rough Tor.'

"Good. They said they are down from the peak; on the south side."

Joe nodded. "Hm. Okay. Car park is way over here. That's where the Doc's car will be, most likely. No other roads near there." He looked out of the window. "Getting dark. We'll need lights." He nodded to a shelf where three large yellow lanterns sat. "Got those!" he brightened.

Joan nodded. "Good Joe. Now," she said gently and encouragingly, she lifted her mobile. "I'll call Al Large. You call some others."

Joe stepped into his sitting area, snapped off the TV, buckled on his belt and returned to Mrs. Norton. He hooked his thumbs over the heavy belt and smiled at her. "Right, PC Penhale ready for action!"

Joan sighed to herself. Lord help us, especially Martin and Louisa, she said to herself. "Now come on, Joe, lets hop to it!"

Joe tugged on his heavy jacket, put on his hat. "Ready to roll!"

"Joe?" she asked. "You were going to call for some help – to search? And don't forget those flashlights."

He winced at his own stupidity, as he snapped his fingers. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."