Lila didn’t weigh it up for long. He sounded genuine. And yes, she knew he was an actor, but still, he wouldn’t be offering to draw attention to their predicament if he was planning to take advantage of it surely? Her heart was still beating hard, but she swallowed over her dry mouth and admitted: ‘We should probably call for help.’
‘Right. Right. Okay.’ There was a strung-out moment where he did nothing, and Lila tensed in every muscle because that would be the moment when she’d know if he’d just been bluffing her. But no. There was a slight rustle and then loud thumping as he hit at the door, presumably with his fist. ‘Hey! Anyone? Can someone help us?! We’re trapped down here! Hello!’
As he banged on the door, Lila descended the steps with wobbly legs. He stopped after a few minutes, his throat hoarse. Oh no, if he lost his voice before the shoot started, that wouldn’t be good. Would Sibyl blame her for that?
‘Okay, if no one heard that, then there’s probably no onetohear it, and we are really up shit street.’ He coughed a bit and cleared his throat. ‘You don’t happen to have any other ideas, do you?’
Rowan
Rowan knew he was starting to sound desperate. His muscles were locking up as though stockpiling the energy required to try and break the door down.
How could he have been such an idiot? What if something had gone wrong with his sister during labour? What if his family needed him and thought he was just ignoring their calls, the same way they probably thought he’d ignored their texts earlier in the day?
But he couldn’t lose it. That wouldn’t actually help anything…well, if he managed to break down the door, thatwouldhelp, but how likely was it? It was one of those heavy old fire doors. He was pretty fit after years of playing a superhero, but he wasn’t deluded enough to think he’d be able to kick down a door without something else to use as a battering ram. That’s how the police did it. He’d seen it happen enough on his estate growing up.
And he didn’t want to terrify Lila any more than she already was. She was hiding somewhere over in the corner, her American voice all faint and trembly. He didn’t blame her for being nervous. Of course it seemed dodgy. Some bloke bowls into the stockroom and traps you both inside, in the dark. He hated the thought he was freaking her out. The last thing he ever wanted was to make a woman feel threatened.
So, he forced himself to take a few deep breaths and planted his hands, palms flat, against the thick, cool paint on the door.
‘Maybe.’
‘Sorry?’ He hadn’t expected her to answer his question, she’d been quiet so long.
Tentative footsteps approached. ‘Maybe,’ she repeated, coming a little closer. He straightened up and tried to make her out in the gloom. His eyes were just about adjusting to the darkness, but still all he could see was a petite grey shape and the pale gleam of white skin. ‘You asked if I had any ideas, and I might. Maybe—’ she took a deep breath as though summoning the courage to put forward her idea ‘—maybe we could take off the broken bit of the lock from in here, and fiddle with it to get it unlatched from this side?’
A flicker of hope ignited in the black cloud surrounding him. ‘Great idea…but with what? All I have on me is my phone and—’ he patted his pockets in his jeans ‘—some chewing gum. I’m no MacGyver, but I doubt that’s enough to fashion a screwdriver from.’
She laughed quietly and it eased some of his tension. Now he knew she wasn’t as scared, at least that was something. ‘We might be able to find a metal nail file or some strong hair pins in here,’ she said.
‘Yes!’ Thank God one of their brains was working. ‘Let’s get on it. You need to use the light on my phone so you can search?’
‘That would help, thanks.’
He swiped at the screen and selected the little torch setting. He hoped it didn’t drain the battery. He needed enough left to make a phone call to Terry and to use the Oyster app to pay for the tube or bus to get to the hospital and then home. To pack. Because he was supposed to be going to Italy in less than twenty-four hours’ time.
Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact he didn’t really dream when he could actually sleep, he might have thought he’d passed out in the car on the way to the TV studio and was having an epic anxiety nightmare.
So, one stress-inducing issue at a time. First, let Lila see if she could find a tool to implement her plan. It was a good plan. And even if it didn’t work, at least it was doing something, rather than climbing the walls. Or trying to kick down a door.
He stretched out his arm for her to take the phone from him and her fingers brushed his as she took the bottom of it. She jolted a bit as though he’d given her an electric shock. He let go as soon as he was sure she had hold of it – his own skin tingling. Lord, she was jumpy. But smart. And she smelt amazing. Fresh like linen and sweet like cherries.
Rowan tucked his hands in his pockets and stepped back a bit. What a bizarre thing to think, given the circumstances. He supposed the darkness was heightening his other senses.
She went over to the first rack, to his left, and crouched down, the light from his phone scanning along the bottom almost like a metal detector, fast and methodical. She moved to the next level up and he carried on watching – feeling utterly useless.
‘D’you reckon I should bang on the door again?’ He rubbed at his forehead.
‘Couldn’t hurt, I guess.’
So, he banged again until his fist felt bruised, and his throat ached. When he stopped, he was panting. ‘Surely someone heard that.’
‘If there’s anyone up there to hear.’
‘You reckon everyone’s gone?’
‘It’s the weekend, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, there was a mass exodus going on when I was heading in this direction.’ He looked around himself fruitlessly again, still seeing nothing but a box full of dark shadows. ‘There’s got to be a security guard or someone working late though.’
