“I was never in love with you, Luce. You must have realized that.”
“No, Colin, I didn’t.” She sagged.
“Water over the bridge, old girl.”
The moment the words left his lips, the house gave a violent shudder, and the floor beneath the table dropped. Porcelain began to slide toward the bay.
Colin was trying to move away, but Lucy’s weight was too much for him.
“The cellar wall’s collapsing,” Tom said. “We need to get out of here. Lucy, grab my hand. Kate, leave—now.”
It was too late.
With a mighty groan and the sound of cracking wood and breaking glass, the bay window shattered and the rear wall of the house collapsed. A blast of wet mist hit me in the face, almost taking my breath. The ceiling hung over a gaping wound in the floor. Everything was sliding. We heard a splash, then another and another as parts of the banquettes broke off and fell.
With the floor tilted at an angle, Colin struggled to stay on his feet.
Another crack and the kitchen table disappeared into the hole.
Colin fell to his knees, slipping backward on the wet floorboards toward the hole. He held onto to Lucy, to save himself now, but that wasn’t helping because she was sliding too.
I reached out for her hand, but they were already beyond reach.
“Move away, Kate. You’ll go with them.” Tom was edging toward them along the cabinets.
Lucy screamed, scrabbling in vain against the floorboards as Colin held her waist.
Tom dropped to his knees.
“For god’s sake do something,” Colin screamed. His legs had slipped over the edge.
Tom lay flat on his stomach and stretched out his arm. “Lucy—take hold.”
“Be careful.” I couldn’t watch.
There was another ferocious crack and a further section of the floor disappeared.
Taking all three of them into the pit.
“Tom! Tom!” I was blinded by tears. “Where are you?”
I couldn’t get close enough to see what had happened. I could hear gasping, splashing. At least someone was alive.
Lucy screamed.
“Ahh,” someone moaned in pain.
“Kate, the cellar’s completely flooded.” Tom’s voice reached me from the pit. “I think we’re standing on the table—the water’s up to Lucy’s neck. Colin’s been badly injured.” He sounded breathless. “We have to get out of here, Kate—now. Look at the ceiling.”
A huge bulging crack had opened above what had been the bay area. Chunks of plaster and lathe were falling into the chasm. The ceiling had seriously bowed. Soon it would collapse, bringing two floors of wood, plaster, and who knew what else down on Tom, Lucy, and Colin.
“What should I do?”
“We need a rope,” Tom said. “At least thirty feet.”
“There’s one in the back of the van—ahh.” Colin sounded breathless. He was in pain.
“Yes, I saw it,” I said, wondering if he’d had plans for that rope.
“Get the rope,” Tom said. “Tie a knot at one end. Tie the other end to the van undercarriage.”
“How do I do that?”
I heard Colin mumble something.
“Reach under the front bumper,” Tom said. “Find the toe eye—it’s a metal ring, off to one side. Thread the rope through and make a double knot. Hurry.”
It took me only minutes to complete the task.
“Here’s the rope.” I threw the knotted end into the hole. In the time I’d been gone, the ceiling crack had opened further. Something had wedged itself into the gap—a piece of furniture, maybe. Plaster dust floated down, mixing with the mist and making visibility worse. Much worse.
“Got it,” Tom said, coughing. “Lucy, wrap your legs above the knot and hold the rope. Watch your hands at the rough edge of the floor. I’m going to boost you up. Kate, get in the van and back it up—as slowly and smoothly as you can. Just five feet or so. Then come back in.”
I rushed out to the van and put it in reverse. Slow, smooth. I couldn’t feel my hands. When the van had moved what I thought might be about five feet, I put it in park and ran back into the house.
The upper half of Lucy’s body was visible. Suddenly she shot over the edge.
“Don’t let go of the rope,” Tom called to her. “Kate, see if you can pull her toward you.”
I pulled. Slowly, Lucy slid toward me along the sloping floor. She scrambled to her feet, dripping with foul-smelling water.
“We have to do it again,” Tom said. “Kate—get back in the van and move it forward. Lucy can throw the rope toward us. Colin, this is going to hurt like hell. Grab the rope with your good arm. I’ll boost you up.”
The crack in the ceiling opened wider. More debris fell.
“We have only a few minutes, Kate,” Tom said. “The whole house is collapsing.”
This time things didn’t go as smoothly. Colin screamed as Tom pushed him toward the surface. His left shoulder hung at an unnatural angle. His left leg was bleeding profusely through his jeans.
Somehow Tom managed to boost him up. He lay on the sloping floor, moaning.
It took both Lucy and me to haul Colin to safety.
“I’m ready whenever you are,” Tom said, trying to sound breezy and unconcerned. We both knew there was no one else down there to give him a boost.
Everything went according to plan—until the end. We were at the end of our rope—literally. Colin was useless. He lay on the floor, writhing in pain. Lucy and I would have to pull Tom’s weight up and over the edge of the floor.
“Pull,” I screamed. “Harder, Lucy.” I couldn’t see because my eyes were filled with tears.
As we pulled, the ceiling gave way with a sound I hope never to hear again.
Everything came crashing down in a cloud of dust.
I couldn’t see.
“Tom,” I croaked. My throat was so tight, I could barely get the word out.
I lay on the floor, still pulling on the rope. Suddenly it went limp.
No. Please, no.
A hand grabbed my wrist.
Tom scrambled to his feet. “Get out, get out, get out!”
Lucy went first. Tom and I hoisted Colin on his good leg and practically carried him outside.
We ran toward
