Page 52 of The Love Hack

‘Fine, whatever, Archimedes. So the clue must be in the window.’

I stepped forward and studied the painted view. ‘What do the labels on the drawers say? Start from top left.’

’Pepper,’ Ross began. ‘Salt.’

’Stop.’ In the second window pane, there was a distant view of the sea. ‘Open that one, then carry on.’

We carried on, Ross opening drawers that matched the view of a wheat field, a honeycomb, a couple of roosting chickens, a dairy cow, a grapevine and a tree that I guessed was meant to be bay.

As soon as he tugged open that final drawer, we heard a grinding sound and the trapdoor in the floor slowly opened. I joined Ross at its edge, and we could see a ladder leading down into darkness.

‘Awesome!’ he said. ‘Come on, Lucy, we’re killing this.’

‘You go first,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure I love this bit.’

‘What? What’s wrong?’

‘I mean, isn’t there something in the Health & Safety manual about climbing down ladders in the dark?’

He laughed. ‘Guess not, or they wouldn’t make us do it. Come on, it won’t be far down.’

‘No. You first.’

Honestly, I don’t know what had come over me. I mean, I wasn’t crazy about heights, but I knew, rationally, that Ross was right – it would only be a few steps down. There’d be a light at the bottom. But somehow, looking at it, I couldn’t quite work out how I’d arrange my hands and feet on the rungs, which looked like they were made of shiny brass, how I’d manipulate my body through the trapdoor, how I’d arrive at the bottom in one piece. Suddenly, all sorts of scenarios were rushing through my mind: the ladder breaking, my hands losing their grip and letting me slip into a bottomless abyss, the trapdoor coming crashing down on my head and knocking me unconscious.

‘Shit. You really don’t love it, do you?’ he said. ‘Right. Gotcha. I’ll go first and I’ll help you from the bottom.’

Nimbly as an acrobat, Ross grasped the top rung of the ladder and stepped through the gap. I heard an almost musical clong as his feet frond a rung. Then his head disappeared from view, followed by his hands.

‘You okay?’ I asked.

‘Sure.’ His voice sounded surprisingly close. ‘I’m almost – ah, I’m there. It’s maybe twelve feet? Piece of piss. I’ll be able to reach you right from the start.’

‘Right. I’m going in.’

I took a big breath and swallowed, hoping the feeling that my stomach was going to shoot up into my mouth would go away. It didn’t – but I had no option but to go down. Same as I’d seen Ross do, I knelt on the floor, gripped the top rung of the ladder and eased my feet back through the trapdoor.

‘Keep feeling for the rungs,’ he instructed. ‘There. You’ve got the first one. Now, right foot down, left foot down – easy.’

My face was pressed against the carpet, my knuckles white on the brass rail. Tentatively, I groped in the darkness with my feet, feeling first one rung and then the next beneath the heavy soles of my boots. My body followed until I was almost all the way through.

Then I let out a squeal of shock. A hand had grasped my ankle from the darkness below.

‘Sorry!’ I could hear concern in Ross’s voice, but also amusement. ‘I should’ve warned you. I’ll hold your legs and guide you down.’

Shit. Did I shave my legs? I thought. But there was no time to worry about that. I felt Ross’s hand moving my left calf and then my right, surely and competently, from one step to the next. I didn’t dare look down, but I could see a rough brick wall in front of my eyes, steadily moving upwards as I moved down.

‘You’re three rungs from the end,’ he said after a bit. ‘You can literally let go your feet now and jump to the bottom if you want.’

I didn’t want. Ross’s hands had moved upwards now – politely bypassing my thighs and bottom – and he was holding me firmly round my waist. Gingerly, I stepped my feet down the final rungs – one, two, three – then felt the welcome crunch of solid ground under my left boot. My right joined it and then, stiffly, I released my hands from the ladder, feeling Ross release my waist at the same time.

‘Phew,’ I said. ‘That was proper scary. Sorry to be such a wimp.’

I turned around, an embarrassed smile on my face. Ross was smiling back – and then, to my amazement, he pulled me into his arms and hugged me.

‘Well done,’ he said. I could feel his lips moving against my hair. ‘You’re hardcore.’

‘You helped me.’ My own voice was muffled by his shirt. ‘Thank you.’

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