The Spiral Page 3

  The man turned, a look of slight impatience.

  “Sorry, but have you any idea how long the staircase goes on for. It feels like we’ve been going down forever.”

  “It’s exactly one hundred and twenty-eight steps,” he said, friendly enough. “I come this way every day.”

  “Surely we’ve already gone further than that?”

  “Well, I guess not,” he said. He nodded, turned and descended again.

  “I think I’m going to go back up,” she replied, as if she owed him an explanation. “I’m late for an interview and…”

  He’d already gone out of sight. She shrugged, turned, and started back up. After ten steps she stopped again, pulled off her too tight shoes with a sigh, then continued in just her tights.

  As she climbed, she cursed the station announcer. Sure, he’d looked like he had a kind face, but he should have told her exactly how deep the stairs went.

  Megan heard that wheezing breath again. A pair of worn brown leather shoes came into her eye-line, topped by dirty woollen socks and creased brown cords. He was siting on a step with a hankie pressed to his brow. He shook his head slightly as she approached.

  “I’m beat,” he said to her through heavy breaths but with a smile. “The doctors say I need the exercise, but this is too much for me. I just need to catch my breath.”

  “Yeah, I’m feeling that too.” She welcomed the opportunity to rest her own legs and lungs as she waited a moment just down from him. The two shared an uncomfortable laugh.

  Then they both glanced up the stairs, as the sound of heavy footsteps, then a pair of grubby boots, heaved down above them. A tall, heavy-set man with tired eyes and paint on his trousers was plodding down.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked, glancing down at Megan, then the old man sitting on the step.

  “Oh, fine,” the man in the blazer replied. “We’re just taking a moment.”

  Megan said, “It’s a long staircase, but neither of us realised it was this long.” She smiled. “I’m late, so I’m heading back up.”

  “Yeah, we must be pretty deep. I didn’t know the Tube went this far down,” replied the man standing above them.

  “That’s the thing,” she said. “I’ve already been way further down. Then I came back up again. It must be five minutes since I turned around.”

  The three waited in uncomfortable silence. It was still a long way up from here, and Megan was definitely going to be late for that interview. But they’d understand about late Tube trains, wouldn’t they? She should carry on up because every second she stood there was another one wasted.

  They all laughed. Awkward.

  She couldn’t leave this man sitting here on concrete steps. If she was going up, she should offer to accompany him back to platform level and put him into the hands of the station announcer.

  Can you give an example of when you’ve put someone else’s needs above your own ambition?

  Funny you should ask…

  “Come on,” she said to the man with the grey hair, trying to hide her resignation. “I’ll take you back up with me. We’ll go at your pace.”

  She held out her hand to steady him. He reached out to hold it, then suddenly pulled it back again as if remembering something.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Thanks. Just give me a few more seconds and we’ll go up.”

  They waited again, and Megan looked up at the face of the heavy-set man. He seemed to be wondering what his own next move was going to be. Then he raised his eyebrows and looked down over her shoulder. There was a sound of shuffling feet below them, then the puffing of breath. The young man in the suit came around the corner and up towards them.

  “Are you the girl I just saw down there?” he asked. She bristled at being called a girl, but nodded.

  “Well, since I saw you I walked about 100 steps. Still no bottom. Does anyone have any idea what’s going on?”

  Giles was lying. He’d done at least another 150 steps further down. Perhaps it was the hangover, but he’d begun to doubt himself. Maybe the staircase was 139 steps, or 149? By the time he’d stopped counting, the bright staircase lights and the dizziness of going round and round in circles were too much for his headache to handle.

  You going crazy again, Giles?

  He stopped to take another glug of Lucozade. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his ears ringing.

  Forget work. He was really ill. It was going to be one of his bad days. Giles had decided to go back up, back onto the Central Line, back to Snaresbrook, back home and back to bed. Asswipe could put that in his special book and shove it up his rear.

  It’d just be another day of boy’s talk, anyway. Who’s traded the most? How pissed they were last night? Which women they’d scored?

  Then back to the pub for more. God, he had to get out of this job.

  By the time Giles had expected to see the top of the staircase again, all that came into view was the woman he’d passed on the way down, the old guy who was now sitting on a step, and now another guy with broad shoulders who looked like he’d just stepped off a building site.

  By unspoken consent, all four of them headed back up.

  “You know,” said the older man. “There are dozens of underground stations no longer in use. All with staircases, secret passageways.”

  “Shouldn’t you be saving your breath for climbing,” said Giles.

  “Just saying, maybe we took a wrong turn. I’ve seen about it on TV. There’s a whole warren of places just like this.”

  “Sounds about right to me, friend,” said the builder.

  Giles knew the old timer was right. It’s easily done. Bank was famous for being complex. The way it joined with the Northern Line, but also at Monument and the Waterloo Line, and the Docklands Light Railway. On the Tube map, the changes looked simple. But you could walk half a mile underground right here, just to change lines. One wrong turn down the Tube station corridors and you could end up at the opposite end of where you wanted to be.

  Giles edged between the girl and the older man, excusing himself as politely as his headache allowed. He tried to keep pace with the builder. The old chap was already wheezing again by the time he went past, and it wasn’t long before he heard behind him the man’s request to rest for a minute.

  Giles put his head down and carried on.

  “Okay,” said the girl, obviously frustrated. “Listen, tell me your name. I’ll go up ahead and send someone down to fetch you.”

  “It’s Charles.”

  “Charles, it’s not far away now, I promise you. But I think you need help from someone who knows what they’re doing. I’m just on my way to an interview.”

  “Thanks, I’ll wait here for a minute, then carry on up. I’ll be alright.”

  “Well, I’ll send someone to meet you, anyway.”

  “Okay…?”

  “It’s Megan,” she said.

  “Okay, Megan. Thank you. You’re a sweetheart. I shouldn’t have come this way.”

  Dead right, thought Giles. What was the old guy even thinking? He barely looked liked he could stand, let alone handle steps.

  Megan. Sweetheart. Nice name. Giles took a deep breath, pushing away thoughts.

  The three continued up the stairs. Giles following the man in the big boots, followed by Megan and her feet covered only by sheer tights.

  One. Two. Three. Four.

  It wasn’t long before Megan was lagging. Giles’ head was pounding, and he felt like throwing up. He pulled the near empty bottle of Lucozade from his pocket.

  27, 28, 29.

  The guy in the boots just kept going. Bound to be strongest, what with working out on a building site. A free daily workout, basically. Not like Giles’ Fitness First membership that he never even used. Free from work.

  Three times a week. Up at six, in the gym for seven, in the office by eight. Beats the hangover every time.

  Yeah, right? And how long since he’d played rugby? Despite his boarding school s
ports, free sports at every turn at Uni, lifetime membership of Cambridge Rowing Club, even a position on the squash ladder for a short time one Michaelmas term, Giles had done next to nothing for years to stay fit. All the opportunities barely taken advantage of.

  The builder. He was fit on the job, not a bottle of energy drink in sight. He admired the guy. He was jealous, even.

  Giles’ breathing was heavy now, and his legs were beginning to ache. Megan had disappeared way behind.

  79. 80. 81.

  It took until Giles had counted to 129 again - Jesus, the second time on this staircase - for him to stop. He could still hear the boots above him, but could no longer see the guy who was wearing them.

  “Hey, excuse me, something’s not right here.” The boots stopped, and Giles heard heavy breathing from the bloke for the first time. “We should definitely be back at the top by now. You didn’t see a door or anything?”

  “No mate, no door. Just more steps.”

  “There must have been a corridor we missed.”

  “I told you, no door.”

  Giles turned, sat where he was. He checked his watch. Twenty past nine. The other guy came back down to join him.

  “I make it nearly half nine,” Giles said. “I reckon I’ve been walking up and down these steps for fifteen minutes at least. Does that seem right to you?”

  “Mate, I don’t know. I don’t know this way, never been on this staircase before. But I know I’m shattered. I’ve been shovelling hardcore all night.”

  He sat above Giles.

  “Yeah, and I could do with a fag.” Giles didn’t want the guy to know how wrecked the staircase had made him. He was pleased the builder was now suffering too. “And a piss.”

  Giles definitely hadn’t seen a door himself. In fact, he had seen nothing. No posters, no broken tiles. Just lights embedded in the roof every seven or eight steps, and the metal bannister rubbed smooth by so many hands over the years. As the stairs spiralled, everything looked the same.

  He tried to think of yesterday. Coming down the same way. It was busier then. There had been no reason to look around, no reason to notice anything different. Just follow the head in front and keep going until you reach the platform. Same drill every day.

  He pulled out his phone. Only half the battery left. He’d been playing one of those stupid games on the Tube earlier, that and listening to music. Until he’d given up because the school kids were making his head hurt.

  “No signal,” he said.

  The bigger bloke didn’t answer. Didn’t even smile. Megan hauled herself up the stairs below them and looked up. Her face didn’t register the slightest surprise to see them both. She’d obviously come to the same conclusion as they had. She sat on a step.

  Giles shouted, “Hello, is anybody up there? Hello?”

  Nothing.

  “Sorry,” he murmured to the others, a little embarrassed that he’d called out. Then he couldn’t help himself.

  “Hello!” even louder this time. He watched Megan flinch from them noise as it echoed up and down. Everyone held their breath, waiting to hear the faintest sound.

  “Shit, what’s going on?” the girl said, her voice slightly shrill.

  “Hello?” she shouted. “Help us, we’re stuck down here. Help us!”

  Giles noticed she had started to shake. She was digging her fingernails into her palms, hunching her shoulders.

  “Help us! Please, God, help us.”

  “It’s okay,” the builder said. “Listen, it’s going to be okay. We’re all here. We’ll work it out together.”

  The girl settled.

  Giles just sat there. He felt his headache ebbing away. It had been replaced by a sickening feeling that had nothing to do with last night’s session.

  4

  Huffing and puffing, Charles eventually joined the three sitting on the steps of the spiral staircase. He pulled out his hankie again, wiped his brow. He used the solid bannister to lower himself onto a step.

  All four were now sitting in silence. Looking at the surrounding walls, the staircase up and down.

  “Hardly the Vatican is it,” said Giles.

  Only the older man laughed.

  “Not quite,” he said.

  “Sorry?” said Megan, drying her tears.

  “Vatican City Museum, you know in Rome,” said Giles. “There’s a huge spiral staircase there. I visited it once. The museum and the staircase. It was a while ago, now.”

  “Actually, there’s two spiral staircases at the Vatican Museum,” said Charles, ignoring the younger man as he tutted and rolled his eyes. “Possibly the most famous spiral staircases in the world. Each of them are also actually two staircases.”

  He turned to the others, a little excited. Maybe talking might help keep the young woman distracted. Until they understood their situation.

  “The original architect designed the two staircases to interweave, like a helix, though hundreds of years before DNA was observed,” he motioned with his hands, attempting to show how the stairs wound around each other. “It’s all granite columns and marble freezes. It doesn’t actually have steps, it just slopes.

  “But the other one, that was built less than 100 years ago. Same helix shape, but with steps. Over 130 of them, I think. But it gives you a weird feeling looking over the edge. It’s an incredible sight. That one is open to tourists as part of the museum tour.”

  “You been there, then?” asked Giles.

  “Many times. Of course, I was rather fitter then. And my wife Felicity was there with me.”

  Giles shook his head.

  “That sounds lovely,” said Megan. She smiled.

  “Lovely compared to this?” asked Benny, obviously joking. Charles smiled back.

  The group was silent again.

  “It’s ironic, really,” said Charles, realising he’d distracted the group for a moment.

  They all looked at him.

  “Up there.” Charles pointed to the ceiling. “I imagine almost exactly above us, or not far away…”

  “Go on,” said Benny.

  “Well, it’s Monument isn’t it?”

  “The Tube station?” asked Giles.

  “The Monument itself. The immense column? It’s one of the big London landmarks. At least in the City.”

  Gradually, each of the others nodded. Though Charles wasn’t sure if they were picturing the same tower he was.

  “In the centre of the crossroads, not far above us, is the column that marks the great fire of London.”

  “1666,” Megan jumped in.

  “Correct,” said Charles.

  She smiled. “Sorry, I remember little from my history. But that’s firmly on any Londoner’s history syllabus.”

  Charles was pleased with the attention, especially from Megan.

  “Well, the Monument actually has a spiral staircase inside it. You can go all the way to the top. Over 200 feet, I think.”

  “That’s pretty awesome,” said Benny. “I mean, I work on some big buildings. But that must have taken some heavy brickwork.”

  “Christopher Wren designed and built it. It took six years. Completed in 1677.

  “And here’s the thing,” said Charles. “It’s really narrow,” he indicated his surrounds. “The steps are concrete, and if I’ve got it right, there are 311 of them.”

  Benny whistled. “That’s some climbing.”

  It was Megan’s turn to point to the ceiling.

  “So, it goes up above us, further than we’ve come down?”

  “Probably,” said Charles. “Two hundred feet is 65 metres.”

  Giles interrupted.

  “Wait, are you saying this might be relevant? Has anyone ever been trapped on those staircases? Could we somehow be on that staircase, or something?”

  Charles detected the panic again.

  “No. Just thinking about similar staircases. Useful to know where we stand, I guess. Just passing the time.”

  “It is really interesting, Ch
arles,” said Megan. He smiled up at her. “How do you know so much?”

  “History teacher,” he said. “Well, I was. Anyway, you get to know these things. Like the Tube lines and the statues, and monuments and the museums.

  “You don’t look old enough for retirement,” said Megan.

  Charles smiled again.

  “Well, they gave me no choice. Gardening leave.” He hesitated. He wanted to tell them how unfairly he’d been treated. But now wasn’t the time.

  “I guess they wanted the new, younger teachers to come in. Things I’ve lived through are taught as history now. The Cuban Missile Crisis. September 11th. Iraq and Afghanistan. That Apple guy, and the Facebook kid.

  “Time to move on, but I still like passing the time telling people what I know.”

  “Like I say, it’s interesting to listen to,” said Megan. Charles nodded again.

  The younger man spoke, rather curtly Charles thought: “Well, I’d rather pass the time looking for a way out of here, if you don’t mind. Any ideas?”

  Megan stood. If she would not get to the interview, she might as well show some of her newly learned management skills right now. All that new confidence she was determined to display, out of sight of Dad.

  “So, what do we know? All inputs welcome. Bright ideas. Little clues. No wrong answers.”

  She knew she was pushing herself to say it, but it was this, or embarrass herself again by sobbing like a baby who’s lost a toy.

  The thin man in the suit shook his head.

  “Anyone?”

  “We’re stuck down a spiral staircase, and I’m feeling wrecked,” he said.

  Megan stifled a little crossness.

  “That’s great, thank you….”

  “It’s Giles.”

  “Thank you Giles. While we’re at it, why don’t we introduce ourselves. So, Giles?”

  “Do we have to do this?”

  “Man, why are you being such a dick.” It was the other, bigger man. “Answer the woman. At least she’s doing something.”

  “Okay, sorry. Headache. I’m Giles. I work in the city. I was on my way to work, close to London Bridge. A big firm that’s one of the top for financial trading in Europe, actually. And now, I’m super late and may well get sacked.”