I waited a bit longer – as long as I could stand it – before calling out.
‘Is everything OK down there?’
He didn’t reply.
‘Hello?’
No answer.
‘Donovan?’
Had he heard me? Perhaps down there, under – oh God – the concrete floor and the rock and the earth, he couldn’t hear me at all.
My stomach roiled. My palms were damp with sweat. My lungs felt achy and scratchy on the insides, as if I’d inhaled lint.
‘Donovan?’
Still nothing.
A dark image flooded my mind of the basement walls folding inwards, like a collapsing deck of cards. And Donovan stuck down there. Pinned by fallen masonry. Pleading with me to help him, to tackle the staircase and—
‘Shit.’ I fumbled in my pocket for my phone. ‘Shit.’
I prodded at the screen, my hands shaking.
‘Can you please just say something to me?’ I called. ‘Just to let me know you’re OK?’
Silence.
‘Is this . . . a joke?’
Still nothing.
My phone had unlocked. Bethany’s contact details were displayed on my screen.
You’re acting crazy.
I wished Sam was here right now. I wished he was sitting on the kitchen stool, talking me down, offering to make me a mug of green tea.
But Sam’s not here.
You’re on your own.
‘Shit.’
I prodded at Bethany’s name and snatched my phone to my ear.
The ringing sounded tinny and distorted, though I knew it was only because I was pressing the phone so hard against the side of my head.
‘Pick up. Pick up.’
The phone rang on.
Six seconds.
Eight.
I really needed to hear Bethany’s voice. I wanted her to tell me she would be here soon, that I didn’t need to deal with this myself.
Please.
My phone was ringing on, uselessly.
Answer it, Bethany. Just answer my call and tell me where you are.
The phone rang out, switching to voicemail.
I listened to Bethany breezily telling me to leave a message and she’d get back to me soon, but I hung up without saying a word.
Silence rushed in like a physical force as I stared towards the silent basement again.
‘Listen, Donovan, if you can hear me, you need to say something. I’m beginning to freak out here. You really need to come back upstairs now.’
I paused and this time it was as if I could hear everything and nothing all in the same moment.
The hitching of my breath, the creaking of the kitchen pipes and the background hum of the fridge-freezer, but nothing at all from Donovan.
‘This isn’t funny.’
My palms were so slick, my phone case squirmed in my grip.
Then I heard something.
A scrape.
A low scuff.
Downstairs.
I waited again but nothing else reached me.
He had to have heard me calling to him by now.
I ventured forwards, then paused.
The stairs loomed before me.
I had a vision of my legs going out from under me, of falling down the stairs.
‘No,’ I said aloud. ‘Not happening.’
Backing away from the doorway, I turned and hurried through the kitchen, up the steps into the living area and on towards the bay window.