Chapter One
Helena was not happy. She had nearly finished weaving a throw in quite a complicated pattern only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. But as she had an idea who was knocking, she didn’t feel she could ignore it. So, retying the scarf that was holding her hair back from her face, she got up from her loom, went to the door and opened it.
‘Yes?’ she said to the man standing there.
He was surprisingly large and dressed in jeans, rugby shirt and what Helena thought of as builders’ boots. He was covered in dust and was smiling ruefully, possibly to make himself seem unthreatening.
‘I’m terribly sorry to disturb you,’ he said, pushing his dusty blond hair out of his eyes, ‘but I have an animal emergency. I need someone a bit smaller than me.’ He cast his eyes rapidly up and down her. ‘And you’re a lot smaller. You’d be perfect.’ His smile was crooked and had a tinge of anxiety which made him hard to resist.
‘Would you care to elaborate?’ Helena was an animal lover but she needed some details before committing herself. He might want help with a flock of angry geese, for example, in which case she was not the best person to ask.
‘It’s a kitten. It’s my sister’s and Zuleika, the mother, is getting desperate. I’m keeping her in the house because if she gets in where her kitten is, she might well make everything a whole lot worse.’
‘Then let’s go,’ said Helena, and shut her door behind her, not worrying about locking it. Her studio had been part of a barn that was near the farmhouse, which her landlord had just moved into, and it was all part of the same property, so it wasn’t exactly far.
‘I’m so grateful,’ said the man as they set off. ‘I probably spent rather too long trying to sort it out myself but I’m just too huge.’ He stopped. ‘By the way, I’m Jago, Jago Pen—’
‘I know who you are,’ said Helena. ‘Your name is on the lease of my studio.’
‘So it is,’ he said and set off again. ‘Come on. Let’s get that kitten out of bother.’
It didn’t take them long to cross the courtyard to what would one day be a very lovely house. It had a rather ‘cobbled together’ look about it: a small original house had had bits added on to it over the centuries at a time when no one worried too much if a Georgian section would look odd next to a bit built in far earlier times. But the years had blurred the edges and it was now charming. It belonged to Jago Pengelly, Helena’s landlord, but although he had owned it for over six months, he had only just started working on it. His presence indicated her notice was up; he was about to turn her out of her studio, which was where she not only did her weaving but also lived. She really wanted to hate him but her sense of fair play made it difficult: six months’ notice was more than generous and if she had concentrated more she would probably have found alternative accommodation for her and her loom by now.
‘We need to go round the back,’ Jago said.
Disappointed that she wasn’t going to get a look inside Jago’s house, Helena followed him to where he was standing in front of a huge pile of soil and rock. He was looking anxious.
‘There was slippage. I wouldn’t have started with the digger if I’d known Zuleika and the kitten were anywhere near while I was working. I thought Zulie was shut in but she must have slipped out after me and the kitten followed.’
‘Where is the kitten?’ asked Helena.
‘Behind there.’ They were at the back of the house now and he indicated a huge pile of soil and stone.
‘Oh my God. Can’t you just climb up and get her?’
‘Not without dislodging more rubble, which could bury her, poor little thing.’
‘So how can I help? The same thing could happen if I climbed up.’
‘There’s a window in the house that opens on to the bit behind the slippage. Come inside, I’ll show you.’
The inside of the house was pretty much a building site, but Helena hardly had time to be disappointed and she hurried behind Jago to the back of the house.
‘There.’ He pointed to a window. ‘If you look through there and down you’ll see the kitten.’
And there it was, absolutely tiny, its little mouth opening pinkly in what was obviously a persistent cry. It was on a much lower level than where they were standing.
‘There’s no way through from the cellar,’ Jago went on. ‘I’ve been through every possible solution, and this is the only one. We have to get a ladder out of this window and you have to climb down and bring the kitten up. Maybe in a bucket?’
Helena swallowed as she contemplated her task. Refusing wasn’t an option but she felt perspiration prick along her hairline at the prospect of a ladder and a small space. She wiped her hands down the side of her jeans. ‘OK, let’s do it.’
Jago went to fetch a ladder while Helena did some deep breathing which was somewhat disturbed by the sound of an anguished mother cat – Zuleika – trying to escape from behind a door. The yowling and the scratching was agonising to hear.
‘Right,’ Jago said cheerily, carrying an extending ladder, unaware of Helena’s misgivings. ‘I’ll try not to squash the kitten when I put the ladder down.’
‘Is there room for me as well as the ladder?’
‘Check for yourself.’ He was struggling to manoeuvre the ladder and was obviously surprised by her question.
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. It was easy – 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.