Rachel's Coming Home (14 page)

John Collington washed his hands and came and sat down at the table. He frowned out of the window. ‘I don't like this weather,' he said, taking a bowl of steaming broth from Rachel.

‘Nor do I,' she said. ‘Everything seems to take twice as long.'

‘It's not just that it's inconvenient. I'm worried that so much rain falling after that long dry spell might cause us some problems. Have you see how high the Inshie Burn is? It looks as though it might break its banks.'

‘Surely it won't come to that,' said his wife. ‘It's never happened before, and the rain is quite light now, isn't it?'

‘But persistent. Ah, well, time will tell.'

Her father settled down to enjoy his food but something was niggling Rachel at the back of her mind. Why should the burn be close to flooding now if it had never done so before? It couldn't just be one night's downpour. Then she remembered something she had seen when she was walking Bill and Ben on the high hills all those weeks ago. Freddy Smith had had a digger up there, doing work on the watercourses. Could that have something to do with it?

After lunch, however, the rain eased off and this worry was forgotten. She had more imminent concerns, such as what she should wear for a visit to Courockglen House. As the weather was improving, it looked like the proposed walk would be on. It would still be very wet underfoot, which suggested that trousers and sensible shoes were the best option. But she had been planning on trying out the silky turquoise top that she knew went rather well with her eyes. It would look better with a skirt than trousers, which would mean she should wear sandals, not really sensible today …

Eventually Rachel decided on the compromise of three-quarter length trousers and a light jacket over the turquoise top in case it grew cold. She brushed her hair until the curls bounced, applied very little make-up, and set off feeling more nervous than there was any reason to be.

Courockglen House looked as magnificent as ever in the late afternoon sun, with a dark sky behind. Rachel parked her car on the gravel at the front and, by the time she had climbed out, Amelia had already appeared at the front door, followed more slowly by her uncle.

‘Hello Miss Collington, we made you a pudding,' said the child, hopping from foot to foot. Her shyness seemed finally to have been forgotten.

‘Call me Rachel,' said Rachel, bending to kiss the soft cheek. ‘Miss Collington makes me feel like I'm your teacher. And what pudding have you made? You must know I
love
puddings.'

‘It's a surprise,' said Philip, joining them at the bottom of the steps. He gave Rachel an even bigger surprise by bending to kiss her cheek. ‘Lovely to see you,' he said, his voice so warm that she felt herself blushing.

‘It's lovely to be here,' she said quickly, taking a step away. ‘Isn't it lucky the weather has cleared up?'

‘Yes.' Philip seemed to be having problems taking his eyes off her.

‘Uncle Philip says it might rain again soon,' piped up Amelia. ‘So if we're going to go for a walk we should go now.'

‘Excellent idea,' said Rachel, relieved at the distraction. ‘I'll just get out the jam my mother has sent for you and then I'm ready to go.'

They walked up through the trees behind the house, a route Rachel had never followed before. The steady drip from the leaves was a constant accompaniment, but the path they walked on was a bridleway, wide enough to avoid their getting too wet themselves.

Amelia cavorted ahead with the two dogs and the adults watched them fondly.

‘She seems to be coming out of her shell,' said Rachel.

‘Yes. She's not
really
a bad kid.'

Rachel glanced sideways at him and realised from his smile that he was attempting a joke. ‘You're enjoying having her to stay,' she said.

He nodded. ‘I didn't expect to, but I am. It's playing havoc with my writing schedule, but if I get up early I can get a little done each day. And I have to admit, she's rather good company.'

‘That's great,' said Rachel approvingly. She had never had difficulty getting on with young children herself, but she knew many childless adults did. ‘She tells me you took her to Edinburgh Zoo last week, that was good of you.'

‘We both enjoyed ourselves. I'll be quite sad when she has to go back.'

‘When will that be?'

‘My sister isn't recovering as quickly as she had hoped, but she thinks she'll be home in about a fortnight.'

‘She must be missing her daughter. And no doubt Amelia is missing her parents, although she certainly seems happy enough.'

‘They talk quite often on the phone. It's costing me a fortune.' But Philip smiled again as he said this, showing he really didn't mind. Rachel was amazed at how much he had mellowed. ‘Bill and Ben will miss her even more than I will when she goes back. We're planning for her to come and stay again next summer, so they can play all their crazy games. The three of them never seem to tire of one another.'

‘It sounds lovely. I'm so glad the visit has worked out well.'

‘Not nearly as much as I am,' said Philip, with a touch of his old ironic tone.

They reached the brow of the hill, above the tree line now, and paused to take in the views on all sides. The dark clouds were more threatening than ever and they decided to turn for home.

‘How are things with you?' said Philip. ‘Are you pleased with your move to Scotland?'

‘Yes, I'm loving it. The dogs are a joy to work with and I'm really enjoying seeing more of my parents. I didn't realise how much I worried about them, being so far away.'

‘How's your mum?'

‘Much better, thanks. The only problem is, the drug she had such a nasty reaction to was actually making her arthritis much better. Now she's had to stop taking it she's in quite a bit of pain. Not that she complains, of course.'

‘Your parents are lucky to have you around to help.'

‘No,' said Rachel firmly. ‘I'm lucky they're willing to let me stay with them. It's wonderful up here.' She gestured around at the vast green hills that could still be seen beyond the trees.

‘Not bad, is it?' agreed Philip. Then, as heavy drops began to fall from the darkened sky, he called to Amelia to run the last little way, and took Rachel's hand to hurry her along. Rachel liked the feel of his warm strong hand around hers. She wish she knew how he felt in return.

Rachel arrived home from the meal at Philip's house in an excellent mood. They had got along surprisingly well. She hadn't stayed too late. She didn't want to impose. She reached home soon after nine. Her mother was already in bed and her father was watching television.

‘It's raining again,' she said unnecessarily. The downpour could be heard pounding on the roof of the conservatory.

‘I know.' Her father frowned. ‘I'll just watch the end of Michael Palin and then I'll go out and do the last check on the dogs. I want to have another look at the burn, too.'

‘I can do that,' said Rachel.

‘Why don't you make us a cup of tea, then we can do it together?' He turned back to his programme and Rachel went to do as he asked. She noted that her mother had been making dropped scones and put some of these on a plate for him. Her father was fond of a little snack at this time of the evening.

She was glad of the warmth of the hot drink when they did finally venture outside. It might only be late August but the wind had risen and the temperature felt more like late autumn. She huddled inside her waterproof, glad of the brief shelter as she popped inside each of the kennels to check on the dogs.

Her father had brought a heavy torch with which he lit the path towards the burn. Away from the electric lighting of the yard it was already very dark, making it feel more than ever like autumn.

‘I don't like the sound of that,' he said, raising his voice to be heard above the roar of the water.

Rachel knew what he meant. The water was coming down in a howling torrent, almost at the top of the banks and, in one or two places, already over it. She had to force herself to take the last couple of steps to have a proper look. The swirl of the water in the flickering light was frightening.

‘What'll happen if it bursts its banks?' she shouted, putting a hand on her father's arm to steady her.

‘It'll come right through the yard,' he replied grimly. ‘Look, it's already starting. You see that stream there? That wasn't there an hour ago. It must be already breaking down the banking further up.'

‘But if it goes through the yard it'll flood the house,' said Rachel in horror.

‘Not only that, it'll flood the west end of the kennel block. I think we need to move the dogs. In fact, I think we need to move ourselves, fast. Look out, it's coming over.'

Her father's dodgy ankle forgotten, they turned tail and ran.

The water that followed them was not a great wave, rather a steady, dirty flow that picked up speed gradually. Once they were back in the yard Rachel and her father cut back behind the higher kennels for shelter, and took stock. The water by-passed them here, but her father was right, it was already seeping into the lower kennels on the west side and lapping around the back door of the house.

‘Dogs first,' he said as they took all this in. ‘There are two kennels empty on this side, just grab everything and move them over, the cairns into the big one, the boxers in the other. I don't know about the Yorkie …'

‘She can come in the house, safer there. I'll grab her and take her in. Then I'll start moving things upstairs. That's the only thing we can do, I can't see any way we can stop the water coming in.'

‘You're right. Give Pixie to your mother and let her know what's happening. But whatever you do don't let her come out in this.'

The water was getting deeper by the minute, swirling across half the yard now before racing towards the house. Some had already found a track for itself down the easterly side of the building and away, but, with each passing minute, the waves lapping at the kitchen and conservatory doors grew higher.

Rachel pushed her way into the end kennel and swooped down to rescue the tiny Yorkshire terrier, who was standing quivering on her sleeping shelf. She seized the bedding with her, but there was no time for more. The water was almost at the top of her Wellington boots and made her stagger with the force of the flow as she re-crossed the yard to the house. One glance told her opening the back door would bring the flood straight inside so she struggled around to the front. Here the porch light showed her the surreal sight of Anthony climbing out of the car onto the perfectly dry gravel, whilst two yards behind him the torrent flowed round the house and shot across the road.

‘What's going on?' he said, pushing his damp blond fringe from his eyes.

‘Inshie Burn's flooded. Can you go and help Dad move the dogs? I'm taking Pixie in the house and then I'll see what I can use to sandbag the back doors. Not that they'll hold the water for long. You and Dad will need to come in round the front.'

‘I can't believe it,' said Anthony, unable to take his eyes off the flying water.

‘Just go, OK?' shouted Rachel. ‘There's no time to waste. And for goodness sake keep an eye on Dad, if he should fall again …'

‘I'm on my way,' said Anthony.

This time he did move, disappearing at a run around the side of the building, paying no attention to the water pouring over the smart shoes he had worn for an evening at work.

Rachel took Pixie upstairs where she found her mother already struggling into her dressing gown. ‘What's happening?' Her mother's breathing was heavy again with anxiety.

‘The burn's, er, a bit high,' said Rachel, trying to be soothing. ‘We need to move some of the dogs. Can you keep Pixie here?'

‘I'll come down and help. It's going to come into the house, isn't it? We need to move things.'

Rachel thought of how little strength her mother had in reserve for lifting and carrying, walking up and down the stairs. Yet she knew her mother was incapable of sitting and doing nothing in a crisis.

‘You stay here and I'll pass things up to you,' she said. ‘That'll be the quickest way. Pop Pixie into my room, she'll be fine there.'

And so the next hour was spent ferrying anything Rachel felt could be rescued from the kitchen and conservatory where the water was flooding in. John and Anthony soon appeared to help and most of the furniture was saved. The carpets, however, were ruined, and the fridge and cooker, far too heavy to be lifted quickly, were almost certainly finished. The water was almost up to knee height at one point, before it began to subside as rapidly as it had risen.

Midnight found the four of them sitting slumped in Maggie and John's room, wet and breathless and totally exhausted. The only light they had was candles, the electricity having failed long since.

‘I've checked all the dogs again, they're fine,' said Anthony.

‘Pixie's certainly very happy,' said Rachel, cuddling the tiny dog to her. Now the activity was over, shock was setting in and she was beginning to shiver.

‘Nothing else we can do tonight, so I suggest we all try and get some sleep,' said her father.

‘What if the water rises again?' said his wife.

‘I don't think it will,' said Anthony. ‘Believe it or not, the sky's clear now. Not a cloud in sight. The worst is over.' Of all of them, he seemed to have come out of the ordeal the best. His slim, young face was wreathed in smiles. ‘Wow, that was quite something, wasn't it? Good job no one and no dog was hurt.'

‘But think of what it'll take to clean up,' said Rachel, put out by his cheerfulness. ‘Three rooms downstairs are wrecked, plus half the kennels. The electricity's out and we daren't trust the water supply.'

‘It'll all look better in the morning,' said her mother, patting her arm gently. ‘You get yourself off to bed. Put an extra blanket on, you want to make sure you keep warm. Shall I get it for you?'