Hanging on with one hand, she pushed away some bottle from the next
shelf, and pulled herself up on to it; and so, with much bruised shins,
she landed at the top and stood upright, the roof in her reach at last.
She had expected to find a hole through which she could put her hand,
but she actually only felt a cold whistle of wind, and had to pick at
the lath and plaster for a good five minutes in the darkness before she
could see any light through, and then only a chink.
She pushed with all her might, but nothing happened. There was a great
shrieking and whistling above her head, and she realised that the wind
must be rising; but nothing happened for all her efforts. She had
thought that when one tile was off the others would follow naturally,
but it seemed that only happened when you didn't want it to do so.
She must have something to push with--a shoe would do, only she must
remember to put it on again before she stepped down upon the broken
glass strewing the floor.
Joey unlaced one of her strong shoes, not without upsetting another
bottle in the process, and, standing on tiptoe on the top shelf, began
a violent assault upon the breach in the roof. If she could only make a
hole large enough to get her head through, she thought, she would shout
and shout and shout till somebody heard and came to let her out.
It is very tiring to stand on tiptoe, especially when one foot has no
shoe on, and bang at something above you. Joey's arms ached and her
toes ached, and her back; the height at which Calgarloch had stood
amazed was hardly enough for her purpose; she had to stretch to her
utmost capacity. "Lucky it wasn't Gabrielle who got shut up," she
thought to herself, and then, through all her anxiety and struggling,
came the thought of her two friends, Noreen and Gabrielle, and the
plans they had made together for the afternoon. What were they doing
now? Joey wondered. Were they remembering to look out for her? Yes, she
felt sure they would do that; they were the kind of friends who stood
by you. If only she had them to stand by her now!
Her attack on the roof did not appear to have any effect but that of
bringing down unwanted showers of plaster that made her choke and
sneeze and, more than once, gave her a nasty knock. But she kept on
doggedly at her task--she had to do it somehow. English people couldn't
wait to ask whether the job was do-able when your country wanted it
done. And all the time she was imprisoned here the Professor was free
to do what harm he liked, because nobody knew about him but herself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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