Helena didn’t move until the ladder was in place and then she didn’t bother to look – knowing wouldn’t help. ‘OK!’ she said brightly. ‘I’m going down!’
Getting out of the window wasn’t straightforward. It involved balancing on the window ledge as she was too short to just swing her leg over to the ladder, which wasn’t quite long enough to reach Helena’s level.
‘I could get a taller ladder,’ Jago offered after a bit of undignified heaving on Helena’s part and shoving from him.
‘It’s all right,’ she said, panting slightly, ‘my foot’s on the top rung now.’
‘Before you go down, take this.’ Jago handed her a flexible plastic trug with a rope tied to the handle. ‘Put her in this and I can haul her up. Then all you need to concentrate on is getting up the ladder.’
He made it sound so easy, thought Helena. Itwaseasy – a few steps down, scoop up the kitten, put her in the bucket and then back up the ladder and away, out of the coffin-shaped space and back into the house. Piece of cake.
Physically it was easy, she told herself, trying to forget her fear of confined spaces. But trying to forget her fear brought it to the forefront of her mind. Her foot slipped on the muddy ladder and suddenly she was nearly stepping on the kitten. The space was too narrow for her to move in.
Jago, leaning out of the window, saw the problem. ‘I’ll have to withdraw the ladder,’ he said. ‘There’s not room for it and you down there. Stand on one leg until I get it out of the way. Then I’ll pass down the bucket.’
Helena closed her eyes and breathed deeply while he hauled up the ladder. When she opened her eyes again she was face-to-face with a pile of earth. She could smell it and felt as though she could taste it too. It was like a vertical grave, she thought, and started to sweat.
‘There’s not much room down here,’ she said, to herself as much as to Jago. ‘We’ll have to do without the bucket. I need to turn sideways.’
She edged her feet to make a bit more room and sent another heap of earth tumbling down. For a moment she didn’t dare look to see if the kitten was all right; then she heard a tiny squeak. Nausea, more sweating and a fear of fainting told her she hadn’t got long; if she collapsed down here she’d squash the kitten and it would take forever to get her out, especially if more soil fell on top of her. She gulped, reached down and snatched round her ankles untilshe found the kitten, grabbed it and stuffed it down her top. ‘Ladder!’ she called shakily, knowing she might vomit, hyperventilate, cry or all three at any moment.
The kitten tried to escape from her cleavage, but she clamped her hand over its head, hoping she wouldn’t suffocate it while trying to save it.
At last the ladder came down and by climbing on to the pile of earth she made room for it. Then she stepped on it and climbed up.
Jago caught her when she got to the top and hauled her through the window, supporting her when she almost landed on the floor. He kicked a chair under her and she collapsed on to it.
‘Were you suffering from claustrophobia just now?’ he asked.
Helena nodded.
‘You should have said! I’m so sorry! If I’d known, I’d have found someone else to help. Come into the kitchen and I’ll get you some brandy.’
He put his arm round her and half carried her. She still had her hand round the kitten under her top, who was now struggling. When they got to the kitchen she fished it out. ‘Here, she’s getting claustrophobia now.’
He took the wriggling bundle and guided Helena to a scarred and paint-splattered table. ‘Sit down while I reunite this ball of mischief with her mother.’
In the few moments he was gone she recovered a little and looked around her. She had longed to get a look inside this house and now was her chance to at least see the kitchen. She would have preferred not to be in a state of shock and covered with mud when she did it, though.
It was large and had windows at both ends and at first glance seemed to be several kitchens joined together. Helena realised that although the principle of adding bits together was the same in here as it was outside, the effect wasn’t as pleasing. It was obviously a work in progress.
Jago reappeared with a bottle of brandy. ‘I feel terrible. It never occurred to me you’d feel claustrophobic. You really should have told me.’
‘I hoped I’d grown out of it,’ said Helena, feeling a bit foolish.
He frowned and shook his head but she couldn’t tell if she was the one he was annoyed with, or himself. ‘I’ll put the kettle on too. It’s what people do when they don’t know how to be really helpful.’
‘A cup of tea would be quite helpful, and I’d actually prefer it to brandy right now, if you don’t mind.’ She watched him make the tea. ‘You haven’t exactly got all mod cons in here yet, I notice.’
He laughed. ‘This room at least has leccy and running water, which is a bit scarce everywhere else, so as far as I’m concerned this is full-on luxury.’
‘How do you manage without electricity?’ Helena asked, her interest in her surroundings growing.
‘Torches. And I have a big industrial light that’s plugged in elsewhere. That works.’ He laughed again. ‘Everyone I know thinks I’m mad to live on site but I’m trying to do this whole thing as cheaply as possible. Why waste money renting?’
Helena shrugged and sipped her tea.
‘Now, how can Zuleika and I repay you for being so noble and overcoming your claustrophobia to rescue her kitten?’
