Another wave of thankfulness engulfed Donna, and she edged nearer.
‘Steel,’ her father was saying. ‘Good God, they’re heavy. For goodness’ sake stay clear of them–they’re pretty antiquated, but the hinges are still in place. They’d swing shut and trap you before you knew what was happening. Stay here–just shine the torch inside.’ His tone said, let’s see what it is you want to see, and then let’s for Christ’s sake get out of this dismal place.
‘That’s the fireplace,’ said Donna’s mother after a moment, and Donna tensed her muscles. In another two seconds she would move. ‘It’s quite big, isn’t it? And there’s the chimney breast going upwards.’
‘The drying floor must be directly over that chimney,’ said Donna’s father, sounding interested despite himself. ‘They’d spread the damp grain over it, and the heat of the fire would have dried it before it was milled.’
‘I don’t remember seeing that.’
‘I noticed it last time we were here,’ said Donna’s father. ‘On the side of the mill. It looked as if it had been concreted over, though. That’s probably why the air’s so stale down here.’
‘I don’t see the stone Donna talked about, do you? Unless it’s set into that wall—’
The unsuitable heels clattered across the floor, and there was a sigh of exasperation from Donna’s father–the enclosed rooms picked the sigh up quite clearly and sent it hissing back to where Donna was standing. Was this the moment? She tiptoed a couple of steps further along, hardly daring to breathe, placing her feet down slowly and carefully so that there would be no sound. If either of her parents heard her–if they turned round and saw her there–the plan would fail.
But they did not turn round and they did not hear her. They were examining the walls flanking the ancient kiln, shining the torch with ridiculous solemnity. Donna could have laughed aloud to see how pedantic they were being, trying to find a stupid, non-existent memorial stone.
She waited until they were at the furthest point from the door, and then set her own torch on the ground, making sure it would not roll away. OK, now for it.
Taking a deep breath, she ran forward, grabbed the edges of the thick steel door with both hands and threw her whole weight behind it. For the space of three heartbeats she thought it was not going to budge and panic threatened to engulf her, but then the massive door gave a teeth-scraping moan of protest, and moved away from the wall, gathering momentum as it did so.
The two people inside the room swung round at the sound, the torch fell from Maria Robards’ hands and rolled into a corner. Incredibly it did not shatter, and its triangle of brilliance lit up the scene like a stage set. Donna had a final sight of her parents’ faces, white with shock, their eyes suddenly huge with horror, their mouths forming round Os of fear. They both cried out, and then the door slammed home, cutting off all sound.
For several minutes Donna shook so badly she could not move. She knew she must get away from this place, but she sank to the floor, hugging her knees, her heart pounding as if she had been running hard.