Faith - Lesley Pearse [201]
‘Then you must get out of here,’ a small voice spoke within his head. ‘Don’t think about yourself, just think of Laura. She shouldn’t be in prison, and you’ve got to get her freed. You can do that if you get out of here.’
It took a real effort to get to his feet and grab the shovel, he felt so dizzy, and pains were shooting though his chest. But he turned the shovel upside down, and grasping it firmly by the digging end, he thrust it upwards and hit the coalhole cover with the handle. The cover didn’t move, but a great deal more dirt came showering down over him, and once he’d wiped his eyes he saw the chink of light had spread half-way around the cover.
He repeated it again, then again. His chest hurt so much it felt as if someone was burning him with hot coals, and blood was pumping out of the wound at an alarming rate. But he could feel movement in the cover and that was enough to keep him hammering away at it.
He guessed that if he’d had something to stand on, it would now be loose enough to push off, but he hadn’t. He paused, weighing up the situation, and felt that if he could just hit it hard enough once, the cover would lift and tip back on to the ground outside.
He was in agony now, his shirt was soaked in blood, and he knew his pulse was growing weak. ‘For you, Laura,’ he muttered as he braced himself firmly on the coal. Grasping the shovel, he tried to shut out the pain and gather together his fast-depleting strength. ‘One, two,’ he counted. On three he thrust the shovel upwards with all the force he could muster.
A dull clang and the metal cover lifted. As daylight flooded in, he realized that yet another thrust was necessary to tip it completely off the hole. He braced himself yet again, every muscle in his body screaming for him to stop, but he ignored this and once again forced the shovel up. This time the cover was right off, but he fell backwards down on to the coal.
Even as he lay there panting and sweating, welcome fresh air wafting down on to his face, he knew he couldn’t rest. Belle and Charles could come back at any moment, and he sensed he was only minutes away from total collapse.
With daylight streaming in, he could see how much blood he’d lost now – his shirt and trousers were completely soaked. But the next part was going to be even harder because he’d got to pull himself up by his hands, with arms which were already weak from the wound.
Embedding the shovel in the coal, he reached up for the edge of the hole, then prepared to lift one leg, ready to use the shovel as a springboard to launch his upper body far enough out of the hole to get free.
He knew it was unstable, but he reckoned if he could do it fast enough, it would work. He could only have one shot at it, for he sensed that a single leap would all but finish him.
Bracing himself, his fingers gripping the rim of the hole, he put his right foot on the handle of the shovel. ‘One, two, three,’ he counted, then jumped upwards.
His left shoulder jarred on the metal rim of the hole, sending shock waves down to the wound so close to it, but somehow he managed to spread his arms outside and slowly and painfully haul his body through.
The bright sunshine hurt his dust-filled eyes, his head was swimming, his legs like rubber, and the pain in his chest was excruciating. As he took the first few steps down the short drive to the gate, he felt as if he was in the middle of one of those dreams where he was being chased and trying to run but his legs were too heavy to move.
He willed himself not to faint until he reached the house next door.
‘He banged on our door just as