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Contents ( 50)
  1. CONTENTS
  2. PROLOGUE
  3. CHAPTER ONE
  4. CHAPTER TWO
  5. CHAPTER THREE
  6. CHAPTER FOUR
  7. CHAPTER FIVE
  8. CHAPTER SIX
  9. CHAPTER SEVEN
  10. CHAPTER EIGHT
  11. CHAPTER NINE
  12. CHAPTER TEN
  13. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  14. CHAPTER TWELVE
  15. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  16. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  17. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  18. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  19. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  20. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  21. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  22. CHAPTER TWENTY
  23. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  32. CHAPTER THIRTY
  33. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  42. CHAPTER FORTY
  43. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  44. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  45. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  46. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  47. EPILOGUE
  48. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  49. Also by Liz Flanagan:
  50. COPYRIGHT

Now came the hardest part. He had to knot the lower part of the rope to the upper, passing it round his chest slowly, so he didn’t tumble out entirely. His hands were shaking, clumsy, damp with sweat. Painstakingly, he pushed the rope into a knot and tugged it tight. Now he was dangling in the loop he’d made, so he could free one hand and use it to dig out the silverblue.

Carefully, he bent his knees, coming closer to the cliff. Not taking his eyes from the silverblue, he wiggled his left hand into the folds of the sling and felt for the chisel. It fell from the sling – he cursed! – but it landed on his bent knees and he snatched it up before it could tumble into the sea.

Sweat was trickling down his neck. His right arm strained on the rope. His heart was racing. He took a deep breath, brought the chisel up and chipped at the blue-white rock. A little piece fell away, right down into the sea, but more chunks landed on his lap, caught in the fabric of his trousers.

Joe transferred the chisel to his teeth, gripping it tight, 159while his fingers roamed blindly and found each precious crumb of silverblue, tucking it away safely in his pockets and sling.

Next time he pushed back a little further, creating momentum to force the chisel in harder. Once it was stuck fast, he levered out a larger lump, and to his relief, it fell on him, not past him and down into the sea.

Again, he rammed the chisel in his jaws for a moment, grabbed the silverblue and went back in for another swipe.

It was hot and painstaking work, chipping away, some­times losing the bits of silverblue, sometimes catching them, but he kept on, and on, until he knew his arms could take no more.

Just then, Winter’s head appeared over the edge of the cliff above him – she must be lying on her stomach – and she shouted down, ‘Joe! Are you all right? Is it working?’

‘Yes!’ he called back, trying not to think about how he’d climb back up again. His right arm started to shake with the strain. ‘I’ve got some. Not sure how much we need!’

Just then, there was a distant scream. Winter vanished from view.

‘Winter!’ Joe yelled, dropping the chisel and hearing it skitter down the cliff and clang onto the rocks. What was happening? He dangled there, helpless. He tried to listen for more clues, but he could hear only the endless crashing of the waves and the pounding of the blood in his ears.

He pictured terrible things: Winter hurt; Milla bleeding; Thom dead. He fumbled with the line, tightening the loop so he held the upper rope in both hands again, with its snaking 160shape round his body. He slipped, crushing one arm against the cliff, trying to get some purchase on the rock again, so he could start climbing up, an inch at time.