Page 68 of The Merry Christmas Project

From the other side of the door, he heard her try the the door handle.

‘I’m so sorry, I would have called if I’d thought for a second you’d still be here at this hour,’ he said. Poor lass, she must have been petrified. He could kick himself.

‘Well, I am,’ she cried. There was a note of desperation in her voice. ‘I’ve been making your gin and tonic scented candles and—’ She paused. ‘Oh, I must have fallen asleep.’

‘Come out, Merry, please,’ he said.

‘I’m trying !’ she said in a wavering voice, ‘but it’s stuck. And it’s as black as coal in here. Can you try, Cole ? Two coals.’ She made a noise which sounded like a cross between a sob and a laugh.

‘I’ll twist the handle and put my shoulder to it.’

He pulled out his phone and swiped the torch function on to examine the handle. ‘It’s all oily, I can’t get a grip.’

‘Yeah, that was me, remember,’ she said, sniffing. ‘Eucalyptus oil.’

He propped his phone on the floor and wiped his hands on his jeans.

‘I can see light !’ she said with a gasp, ‘just a little strip of light under the door.’

‘It’s the torch on my phone.’

‘Keep it there, please.’

‘I will.’ His heart went out to her. ‘Try not to worry, we’ll soon get you out of there.’

‘I hope so,’ she said in a small voice. ‘But telling me not to worry is like telling someone who hates spiders that the one under their bed won’t bother them in the night.’

‘Right, I’m going to push the door as hard as I can. Stand back.’ This time he grabbed the door handle with both hands and put all his weight behind it. He pushed and pushed, grunting with exertion but the door didn’t budge.

He let go to give himself a break and leaned against the wall, panting. ‘It’s well and truly stuck.’

‘Just try again, please.’

He did as she asked but he knew it was no good. The door needed taking off its hinges and planing and he was pretty sure that something inside the lock mechanism had snapped. ‘Sorry,’ he said, rubbing his shoulder. ‘It won’t budge.’

‘What are we going to do ?’ Her plaintive voice was coming from low down behind the door and he had an image of her crouched down, staying close to the light.

He rubbed a weary hand through his hair, trying to think what was the best thing to do. ‘I’ll go out to the van and fetch my tools. I’ll smash the door down if I have to.’

Which would also give him a chance to find a quiet alley and have a wee. Not that he would normally condone such vulgar behaviour but he was practically bouncing on the spot with desperation.

‘No !’ she yelped. ‘Don’t leave me in the dark. Please.’

‘OK, OK, I won’t.’ He strained to listen; he was fairly sure he could hear the sound of faint crying. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her not to cry but he almost felt like crying himself so he didn’t blame her. ‘Merry, I feel terrible.’

‘This is literally my worst nightmare : being locked in a dark room.’

‘Then why did you run in there ?’ he asked softly.

‘Don’t turn this around to being my fault,’ she snapped. ‘You promised to mend this lock ages ago, remember ?’

He raked a hand through his hair . ‘Sorry, it’s not your fault. It’s totally mine.’

‘How was I supposed to know that you weren’t an intruder ?’ she continued. ‘I panicked. I thought locking myself in the bathroom would be the safest thing to do.’

‘Well, you’re certainly safe now,’ he said ruefully.

‘We’ll have to call Olek,’ she said with a sniff. ‘The locksmith. His number is on my phone in the kitchen.’