The history lesson dragged interminably on, Mr Sweet's blathering drone falling on no ears deafer than Willow's. All she could think about was the secret trapdoor and what might lay beneath. A smuggler's den? A dragon's lair? A hobbit hole? Then she started thinking about cupcakes, but pretty soon she was back to wondering about the trapdoor.
Finally the bell rang and everyone filed out. They went for dinner, where Alfie kept going on and on about zombies. Sure, zombies were cool, but the boy was obsessed! He kept making eyes at her across the table, so she busied herself playing with her food. Making a spaghetti fort proved a difficult and thankless task.
'It is ten o' clock precisely,' said Victor when it was. 'You have five minutes precisely, and then I want to hear a pin drop.' Then he dropped a pin, which Willow picked up for him. Rather than thanking her, he growled unpleasantly.
'What a meanie,' frowned Willow to herself, making a show of going to bed but waiting fully dressed under the covers. She gave it twenty minutes, then snuck downstairs.
All was quiet as she entered the dining room. She lifted the trapdoor to reveal inky blackness below. The torch on her phone provided scant illumination, revealing wooden steps leading down. As an afterthought she took a carving knife from the table. Her slim fingers ran over the cool blade as she wondered if she'd have the guts to use it if she had to. Then she took a deep breath and entered the pit, lowering the trap door behind her.