She moved crablike towards the next window. Before she reached it, the creeper under her feet gave way. For a panic-stricken moment, she felt her fingers begin to slip, and scrabbled to find a new hold with her toes. With her free hand, she grasped a new thicker rope of creeper, which gave her the balance she needed. The room was now just above her. She lifted her head slowly and peered in. Larger than the study, this room lay half in shadow, lit only by one small lamp. As her eyes gradually adjusted to the semi-darkness, the shape of a wing chair materialized, followed by an antique wardrobe and the corner of a bed. Just as she was about to give up and climb down, an arm flopped over the edge of the bed. Lucy almost fell. She grabbed the sill staring hard. She knew that big hand. She had given Steve that watch for Christmas. She opened her mouth to call out, but caught herself in time. She trembled so badly, she was close to losing her grip. You’re not about to fall now, she told herself sternly. She flattened herself against the wall, spiky leaves and twigs stabbing into her chest. Careful to retain her precarious balance, she freed her right hand and tapped gently on the window. The hand didn’t move.