I stopped. Tried to think rationally. Failed. "Mo, help!"
Mo shrugged. "Do not to go crazy. Probably she scooched off the sensor or it has malfunctioned."
"I don't know if I've got an alive baby or a dead baby until I can open this bloody door!"
I looked up at the windows. Our flat is on the first floor. An old Victorian metal drainpipe led up past the nursery window. I clamped myself to it and tried to shimmy my way up.
Turns out that kind of thing is only possible in cartoons. The drainpipe was rusty and flaky, and in my effort to gain purchase I managed to pull it off the wall. A stinking slosh of stagnant water landed on my face. I spluttered and retched as the pipe arced gracefully down, twisted to one side, and landed heavily on my neighbour's Subaru Impreza, popping out the passenger-side window.
