And then, we were suddenly rolling forward easily, and I nearly fell forward as the cart began to gather speed, without any help from me, and plunged downwards.
Yes!
‘We’ve done it! Let go, Mr Linton! Let go!’
I couldn’t. My hands were glued to the handle, my eyes half-closed with exhaustion. Another pair of hands gripped mine and slowly pried them loose. ‘Let go! We have to lie down! Now!’
Lie down? But why?
The answer to my question came a second later, when two shots echoed through the tunnel. Something heavy collided with me, throwing me to the floor and landing on top of me. Something - no, somebody familiar. Mr Ambrose.
‘They’re shooting,’ he told me in his cool, precise tone. ‘They have a better angle now, from above. Stay absolutely still.’
Oh no, I plan on running a marathon! After all, I feel so rested right now.
I didn’t say anything, though. I couldn’t have moved a muscle if I had wanted to, not even my lips. And I didn’t want to, really. To lie on the rough wood, his arms wrapped tightly around me, felt very comfortable for some reason.
But why is he lying on top of you?
Good question. It was almost as if he were shielding me from the gunfire. But that couldn’t be. That was something only the heroes in penny dreadfuls did if they happened to be in love with the heroine…
The next shot sounded farther away. The one after that could hardly be heard. We were gathering speed now - I could feel it from the wind rushing past us, tickling my face. We were really getting away! Really and truly!
‘Why…’ My voice sounded like a crow with a cold. I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘Why aren’t they following us?’
‘Oh, they will, eventually’ Mr Ambrose said in a dry tone. ‘But they jumped off their cart halfway up the last hill, in order to run after us. It will have rolled downhill by now. They’ll have to push it up all the way before they can follow us. That will take time. We have a good head start.’
There was a last, faint echo of a gunshot, but even I, with my limited knowledge of firearms, knew it didn’t have a hope of hitting us anymore. We were much too far away by now, the darkness gathering around us. The distant red flicker of torches subsided into grey gloom, and then the grey turned to black, and the last noises of our pursuers faded. All noise faded, except for the song of wheels on the rails, the whistling of the wind in my hair, and Mr Ambrose’s breathing. We were alone. We should get up and try to find a light, try to find out where we were, maybe. We should definitely get out of this embarrassing position, Mr Ambrose lying on top of me, his arms pressing me to the floor. Yes, that was definitely something we should do.
But then, why didn’t he get up?
Why don’t you get up yourself, Lilly? You still have two arms and two legs, don’t you?
I checked, just to make sure. Yes, all the necessary limbs were still attached, and hurting like hell. He might be lying on top of me, but I could have pushed him away, or tried to slide out from under him, or said something to him. Yet I did not. I simply lay there, his body pressing against mine in a way that made me ache to pull him even closer and put my arms around him. I could feel his breath on my cheek. He was so close. Almost close enough to ki-
‘We should get up,’ he said. His voice sounded strange, rough even. It still was his usual cool tone, and yet, it wasn’t.
‘Yes,’ I agreed.
Neither of us moved.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘What are you waiting for, Mr Linton?’
‘Um… excuse me, Sir, but what are you waiting for? You are the one lying on top.’
On top of me - the second time in a row! But I didn’t dare say these words aloud. They made heat rush to my face just thinking them. Was it just coincidence that we always seemed to end up like this?
‘Well? I asked. ‘What are you waiting for, just wasting time lying here? Knowledge is power is time is money, isn’t it?’
He was silent for a moment.
‘You remembered, Mr Linton.’
‘Of course, Sir.’ Before I knew what happened, my hand had reached out and touched his face. Bloody traitorous limb! ‘You’re a very memorable man.’
Another moment of silence.
A long one.
A really, really long one.
Then his weight was suddenly lifted off me, and his arms were gone. I gasped with surprise.
‘You’re right of course,’ I heard his voice from high above. ‘We have to get moving. I must have received a blow on the head when falling to the floor and been temporarily stunned. That is the only explanation for such unforgivable inactivity. Now… let’s see…’
I could feel him climb past me, back into the metal container of the cart, and had to fight hard to suppress a sense of stinging disappointment. But why? Having a man so close had been highly improper, and against my every principal and yet…
And yet, now that he was gone I wished him back. Bloody hell!
‘Mr Linton! Look what I’ve found!’ His shout roused me from my dangerously unfeminist thoughts.
‘I can’t look,’ I pointed out, turning towards where his voice had come from. ‘It’s dark.’
‘Actually, I was aware of that, Mr Linton.’ Suddenly, a light flared up, making me raise my hand instinctively to shield my eyes.
‘How…?’ I demanded, grasping for the edge of the cart for balance. The bright yellow shine forced its way through my fingers and, after the long time spent in utter blackness, almost made me dizzy.
‘There is a wooden case with spare equipment attached to the back of the cart,’ I heard the voice of Mr Ambrose from beyond the golden glow. ‘A safety lamp, knife, flint, food, water - you can say what you like about Lord Dalgliesh…’
‘Really? Well, then I’d like to point out that he is a pretentious, lying, bloodthirsty ball of slime!’
‘That was not meant as a prompt, Mr Linton.’
‘Oh. Sorry, Sir.’
‘As I was saying, say what you like about Lord Dalgliesh, but he does take all possible safety precautions. And this time, they work to our advantage.’
Slowly, I lowered my hands from my eyes and let my eyes get used to the brightness. Slowly, I looked around, and for the first time since starting on this mad, muscle-tearing ride, actually paid attention to my surroundings.
