Page 65 of The Path to the Last House Before the Sea

‘Very funny.’

‘It’s just that the council will probably block the tunnel off and we’ll never properly find out anything about it.’ Alyssa shone her torch into the darkness again, feeling bizarrely drawn to the place. Something on the floor a few metres inside glinted like a jewel, reminding her of the brooch that went missing on the night that Charity and Josiah disappeared.

‘I know you’re being sensible and science-y,’ she told Jack. ‘But my instincts are telling me that it’ll be fine to go a little way inside.’

‘Your instincts?’ Jack sighed. ‘Come on, Alyssa, face it. On this one, I’m right and you’re wrong.’

Alyssa’s breath caught in her throat as Jack’s turn of phrase brought back painful memories. Her mind reeled back fourteen months, to another man who’d stood in front of her and told her exactly the same thing. But she’d learned a painful lesson that day: just because someone said they were right, it didn’t mean that they were. Sometimes it was better to trust your instincts.

‘Let’s cover the hole for now and think about who we need to tell,’ Jack continued.

But Alyssa wasn’t listening. Instead, she dropped forward onto her knees and wriggled through the small gap.

THIRTY

JACK

‘Alyssa, come back, please,’ said Jack as firmly as possible. But the infuriating woman took no notice whatsoever.

‘It’s fine, Jack,’ she called back. ‘The ceiling’s pretty low – it’s touching the top of my head when I stand up – but it’s amazing in here. Don’t worry. I’ll only go a little way and then I’ll be back. Something’s glinting and I want to see what it is.’

Jack sat back on his heels. What was Alyssa thinking, heading into a centuries-old tunnel with no idea what lay beyond the torch beam? He was partly to blame for bringing her down here, to chase a ridiculous story. But the main problem was that she had a head full of myths, legends and happy-ever-afters.

He stared up at the strange indentation on the wall. There was no denying that the symbol on the brick – the symbol that had fired up his curiosity – matched the one on the map. And it was exciting that he’d had a part to play in uncovering an old smuggling tunnel. Young Jack, who’d once sat here in the dark as John lay dying, would have been thrilled at the thought of it.

But now he was older and wiser. And though part of him was desperate to check out the tunnel and share in Alyssa’s optimistic beliefs, he knew that he was doing the right thing by staying back.

He bent down and shouted into the darkness: ‘Are you still all right?’

‘Fine,’ she called back. ‘This is fantastic. I’m going a bit further but I won’t be long.’

‘Not too far,’ he called, worried that her torch beam was dimming as she got further away. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to see her at all. He shouldn’t have let her go into the tunnel alone.

Jack got to his feet and began to pace up and down the cellar. He couldn’t help feeling that Alyssa was off having an adventure while he, as usual, was standing back and doing the sensible thing.

He’d always been sensible, ever since his brother’s death had made him realise that losing control could be dangerous. Life had a tendency to veer off in unexpected directions if you weren’t always on top of things: always aware of what was real and what wasn’t. Always looking for evidence to guide your path.

The consequence of being determined to lead a controlled existence had been a smaller, tighter life. That was a price he’d thought worth paying. But was it too costly when bad things were happening anyway? Miri wanted a divorce, he hardly saw Archie these days, and his father was unwell. Everything was falling to pieces and the harder he looked for answers and sought control, the worse it seemed to get.

Maybe, he thought, still pacing, it was time to be different. To take a leaf out of Alyssa’s bonkers book and live more for the moment.

Moving into a caravan and telling tales of dastardly dukes and monsters of the deep was taking it too far. But perhaps being more spontaneous from time to time, like enjoying a sunset for the wonderment of it all, would do him good.Bashing hell out of the wall with the hammer had felt surprisingly good.

Jack crouched down and stared into the tunnel. In any case, he had no choice, really, because he should never have let Alyssa go in there on her own.

Taking a deep breath, he wriggled through the gap, cursing as his hips scraped against the bricks, and stood up – remembering, too late, what Alyssa had told him about the height of the tunnel.

‘Damn!’ he exclaimed as the top of his head hit the low ceiling and dirt tumbled around his shoulders. Smugglers in the olden days must have been tiny. Bending his neck, he began to make his way along the tunnel, sweeping his torch beam in front of him.‘Alyssa,’ he called out. ‘I’m coming. Wait for me.’

The air was damp and freezing cold as he picked his way slowly through the tunnel, towards the glow of Alyssa’s torch beam. And as he moved along the dirt path, Jack realised to his surprise that excitement rather than fear was his over-riding emotion. Exploring an old smugglers’ tunnel that had been bricked up for hundreds of years –this was all the longed-for adventures of early boyhood rolled into one: a chance to be brave and redeem himself; a chance to be one of the cool kids. The cool kid who got the girl.

He smiled in the darkness and called again to Alyssa, who was a shadow ahead of him.

She turned to him as he caught up with her. ‘You decided to join me then,’ she said with a grin, her teeth shining white in the torchlight. ‘Actually, I was about to turn round and come back. You know, be a little more sensible about the whole thing.’

Jack hesitated. For once, he wasn’t being sensible and there was a thrill in that. He dimly remembered taking risks as a child, before John had died and his parents’ mantra of ‘Be careful’ had seeped into his brain. It had been said with love because they couldn’t bear the thought of losing another child. But their fear had constricted him then, and was constricting him still, he realised.

‘Are you coming?’ asked Alyssa, her dark hair a glowing frame around her face. ‘We can give the council a call.’

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