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This was madness. Sheer, unmitigated madness.

Sweating, cursing, Emilia heaved a broken coffee table out of the way, desperately trying to navigate her way to the back wall.

How long had she been down in the basement?

Three minutes? Four even? More? Although Emilia could still hear Louisa’s urgent footsteps upstairs, hurrying back and forth from living room to kitchen, it could surely only be a matter of moments before her hostess realized something was wrong?

How long did it take someone to slap a plaster on a cut after all?

This place was a nightmare, the basement a repository for all manner of junk.

Tatty suitcases, boxes of files, an old medical kit, squash rackets, even an electric guitar littered the claustrophobic space, rendering progress painfully slow.

How on earth could she wade through all this detritus?

And was she wasting her time anyway? Pushing these unhelpful thoughts aside, Emilia re-doubled her efforts, sliding a bulky bookcase out of her way.

She was making for the far-left hand corner as per her father’s instructions, but her spirits sank as the removal of the bookcase revealed a large oak dresser behind.

Jesus Christ, how many cats had Emilia kicked to deserve this?

Swearing viciously, she positioned her shoulder against the side of the heavy dresser. Gritting her teeth, she pushed with all her might. Slowly the dresser started to slide to the right, before coming to an abrupt halt, Emilia banging her head on the pointed corner and crying out in pain.

‘Jesus, effing …’

Swallowing the rest of the expletive, she hurried round to the far corner of the oak dresser, dropping to her knees on spotting that the foot of the dresser had become caught on the uneven brick floor.

Heaving with all her strength, Emilia managed to raise it an inch, dropping it back onto the lip of the obstacle, before returning to her previous position.

Pressing her feet down hard on the rough tiles, she launched herself forwards once more.

And now, to her immense relief, the dresser slid aside, revealing a portion of the back wall.

Collapsing to the floor, Emilia used her sleeve to wipe the perspiration from her brow.

The back wall wasn’t entirely visible, but there was more than enough for her to work with.

Tugging the scribbled instructions from her back pocket, she counted four bricks in from the left, then four up from the bottom.

Typical Dad, she thought to herself as she did so.

His birthday was the fourth of April, 4/4 his signature code.

Reaching inside her coat, she pulled out a chisel and then, taking her mark, tried to jam it into the mortar join between the fourth and fifth bricks.

It made little impact cannoning back towards her and causing her to yelp in pain.

Annoyed, she was about to resume her efforts when she heard footsteps above. Her hostess had apparently exited the living room and made her way to the hallway, pausing now directly above her.

‘Shit.’

Emilia set to work, holding the blade of the chisel to the mortar and banging desperately on it with her clenched fist. But the mortar still refused to budge, Emilia succeeding only in bruising her hand in the process.

‘Emilia, are you OK in there?’

A tentative tapping followed, Louisa knocking on the toilet door.

Seething with frustration, Emilia cast around her for salvation, her eye now falling on a binoculars case nearby.

Snatching it up, pushing all thoughts of damage to the contents from her mind, she rammed the case onto the end of the chisel.

And now finally she got lucky, the blade punching clean through the dusty mortar.

Dropping the binoculars case, she feverishly worked the blade back and forth, slowly edging along the top of the brick as the mortar fell away.

Having worked a decent fissure, she now gripped the handle of the chisel and heaved upwards with all her might.

The brick resisted, the remaining mortar refusing to budge …

before finally giving up the fight, a single brick tumbling from its mooring and landing on the floor with a gentle thunk.

Still the knocking persisted upstairs, getting louder now.

‘Emilia, what’s going on in there?’

Ignoring her hostess’s earnest enquiries, Emilia slid her hand through the hole, pulling hard at the top of the exposed brick below.

This too now gave way after brief resistance and in a matter of seconds, Emilia had removed five bricks.

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she shone her torch inside and there it was – a small blue sports holdall, just like her dad had promised.

‘Emilia, I’m going to have to force this door open if you … oh!’

To her horror, Emilia heard the toilet door open, her hostess discovering now that it hadn’t been locked at all.

‘Emilia, where are you?’

There was a note of suspicion in her tone, her concern ebbing away.

Reaching into the hole, Emilia pulled the bag towards her, cursing once more as it caught on the edge of the brick.

Lifting it out, she hurried across the room, in her haste losing her balance and barging into a side table.

On it, an old lamp wobbled, before falling to the floor and smashing loudly.

Emilia froze, swallowing another expletive, as she heard footsteps approaching the cellar door.

She cast around her for some means of deliverance, or somewhere to hide, but she was too slow.

Louisa had now reached the doorway to the basement, opening it cautiously, spilling light onto the gloomy interior.

‘Emilia, are you down there?’

Her hostess peered down into the scruffy basement, unsettled and annoyed. Desperate, Emilia cast around her, taking in the guitar, the squash rackets … and the medical kit.

‘What’s going on?’

Annoyed, Louise took a step down, but now Emilia finally stepped into view, clutching a bandage to her finger she’d culled from the medical kit.

‘Couldn’t find any plasters in the toilet so I thought I’d have a nose down here. And look what I found!’

She held the bandage up triumphantly, her smile winning and confident. Instantly, she saw the suspicion disappear from her unwitting hostess’s face, who suddenly looked anxious.

‘Oh, you can’t put that old thing on a cut! I must have something better in the bathroom cabinet. Come back upstairs and I’ll fix you up.’

To her immense relief, Emilia now heard Louisa hurry away down the hall, before mounting the stairs to the first floor.

Emilia hared back to the hole, sliding the dresser back into position, concealing the damaged wall.

Retracing her steps, she swung the holdall onto her shoulder and scrambled up the steps and out into the hallway.

‘Now then, what have we got here …?’

Emilia could hear Louisa rummaging through the cabinet upstairs, muttering distractedly to herself.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she hurried to the front door, easing it open and stepping outside, closing it gently behind her.

The lock clicked shut, so Emilia was swiftly on her way, racing down the steps with her prize, before hurrying away along the street.

What she’d done wasn’t pleasant. In fact, it was downright duplicitous and cruel, but she shed no tears for Louisa, nor berated herself too harshly for her actions.

For if life had taught her one thing, it was this:

Nice guys finish last.