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Toby’s voice brought her back to reality. “I’m glad you found your daughter.”
“She’s not ...” Carol’s protest faltered. What was the point of denying it? He knew everything.
Toby turned his attention to the door. “We have to get out of here. I’ve smashed the lock but ...”
“We could go out onto the rocks,” Carol said. “I can carry Anita, and when the tide turns—”
Toby’s voice was quiet and carefully measured. “You can’t go that way, and we can’t stay here.”
“Why not?”
“It’s coming in on the tide,” Toby said, gesturing toward the mouth of the cave.
Carol followed his gesture and grew cold with fear. She pulled Anita toward the foot of the stairs. Every warning she had received as a child of war played in her mind. She had never seen one before but she knew what it was. It was mine, as playful as a giant beach ball as it danced on the cresting waves, with moonlight glinting on its metal spikes.
Toby turned from the door with a hopeless gesture. “I’ve broken the lock but it still won’t open. Someone’s barred it from the other side.”
“But they must know you’re in here.”
“Oh yes,” said Toby. “They know. God damn them, they know!”
He set his shoulder to the door and shoved. Beneath him the staircase shook, and its ancient timbers groaned in protest.
Carol looked back at the mine. It was in the mouth of the cave now, rolling with the incoming tide.
Behind her she heard a sharp crack, and she turned to see the wooden staircase collapsing. Toby tumbled from the top step to the cellar floor in a shower of dust and splinters.