CHAPTER Eight

A storm like nothing Cassie had ever experienced before had blown up outside. The wind screamed through invisible cracks in the windows, and rushed down the chimney, sending ash flying onto the rug. An occasional change in its direction sent rain hurling against the glass panes like bullets. The blackness surrounding the house was absolute, until a slice of lightning, far too close for Cassie’s comfort, lit up the garden like a floodlight, revealing bushes and trees swaying as if they were giving their final bow. Cassie felt chilled inside, in a way that no amount of jumpers or huddling against radiators could cure. The house creaked and rattled around her. How could Frances have lived here on her own?

Cassie shrieked as another blast of rain battered against the window. That was it. She didn’t care what time it was. She was going to follow Frances’ example, and retreat to bed, with the duvet pulled up round her ears, and stay there until this was over. She had reached the door when the telephone rang, a jarring sound against the noise of nature that was filling the house.

‘Hello?’

‘Cassie? How are things at the house?’

It was Barney, though he clearly saw no need for niceties.

‘Everything’s fine.’ Yet another lie on the charge sheet. Everything was terrifying, but she wasn’t going to admit that to him.

‘According to the radio, the wind is averaging 100 mph, and this rain could go on for hours. Some houses in the village have lost power.’

‘Have they? The lights flickered a couple of times, but they’re still on.’

Of course, the moment she said the words, the lights flickered again, at the same time as the wind flung a stray twig or branch against the window. Cassie thought she’d managed a silent gasp, but Barney’s ears were as sharp as his eyes.

‘I’ll come over.’

‘There’s no need.’

‘I’m passing anyway. A couple of trees in the village are wobbling, and one will hit a power line if it falls. We’re going to see if we can tether it. Have you found the emergency torches in case the lights go out?’

‘No. I don’t know where they are.’

‘Frances could have told you. There’s a small torch in every room, but the main ones are in the storeroom next to my office. Go and get a couple so you each have one. How is Frances?’

‘She’s in bed.’

‘What?’

‘She’s in bed,’ Cassie shouted. She felt as much as heard the huff down the telephone.

‘I heard you. Why didn’t you ring me? Is she feeling unwell?’

‘No, she was cold and tired, and wanted to go to bed.’

‘Have you given her an extra blanket?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about a hotwater bottle? There’s a stack…’

‘I know. I made her one.’ Cassie was tempted to borrow Frances’ line, and tell him to stop fussing.

‘How was her breathing?’

‘Fine. Normal. Why shouldn’t it be?’

‘No reason. That’s good. Keep an eye on her, won’t you?’

‘Of course. It’s what I’m paid for.’

Honestly, Cassie thought, as she put down the phone, how fickle could one man be? One minute he was objecting to her appointment, the next he was demanding she did the job he hadn’t wanted her to have. And now he was on his way to check up on her and interfere. There was no way he was going to find anything to criticise. She ran to the storage room and took out the torches, then went upstairs to see Frances.

Ten minutes later, swamped in a borrowed coat and wellington boots, Cassie dashed out from the shelter of the entrance canopy, shining her torch at Barney’s truck as it pulled up at the front of the house. The window opened and he leaned out.

‘For God’s sake!’ Barney shouted, drawing his head back in as a gust of rain slapped against his cheek. ‘If you’re going to make a habit of jumping rabbit impressions, can’t you at least wait for better weather?’

Cassie ignored him, opened the passenger door and hopped in. Gin clambered onto Barney’s knee to make way for her.

‘What are you doing?’ Barney asked.

‘I’m coming to help in the village,’ she said, pushing back her hood. It hadn’t served much purpose: her hair was plastered to her cheeks and forehead, so she probably did look more animal than human. Not that Barney could talk. If she was a rabbit, he was definitely doing his usual wild bear impression.

‘We’re trying to tether a tree,’ he said slowly, in a similar tone to the one Hugh had used with Frances. ‘What help do you think you can be?’

‘I’ve brought flasks of tea.’ Cassie indicated the Tesco bag she had just stowed in the footwell. The interior light switched off, but Cassie could feel the heat of the Barney stare through the darkness. Something battered against the windscreen, and Cassie heard Gin whimper. Except it didn’t sound like a canine noise. It sounded human. It sounded like her. Barney switched the light back on.

‘Are you scared of the dark?’

‘No. I’m scared of not being able to see.’

He frowned, as if considering the difference, but didn’t pursue it.

‘You’d be better staying with Frances.’

‘I know. But when she heard there was trouble in the village, she decided it was her duty to help. That means sending me. She said that if I wanted to make a fuss I could do it there instead. Frances is fine,’ she added. ‘I’ve given her a torch, and the phone is beside her bed.’

Cassie thought she detected a sigh of resignation. It was all the encouragement she needed. She fastened her seatbelt.

‘I don’t have much choice then, do I?’ Barney grumbled, but he pushed Gin over to Cassie and set off. He crawled down the drive, hunched forward over the steering wheel to peer through the windscreen. Even with the wipers on their fastest setting, the window was drenched in rain, as if buckets of water were being thrown at it between each wipe. The full beam of the headlights picked out trees rocking at the edges of the drive, and Cassie clung to Gin, unable to tell whether the trembles in her arms came from her or the dog.

‘Thank God,’ she muttered, relaxing back in her seat as they pulled up outside the pub. Lights blazed from the windows, and a few figures were running round carrying torches and lanterns.

‘I told you to stay behind,’ Barney said, but there was relief in his voice too. He pulled a beanie hat out of his pocket and put it on. ‘Wait there. I don’t want either of you getting underfoot. If anyone wants tea I’ll send them your way.’ He opened the door and slid out, letting in rain and wind. Cassie shrank into her coat, and kept a tight hold on Gin.

It probably took a minute – a dark, terrifying minute that felt like a year – for Cassie to decide that she didn’t like waiting in the truck. With the wipers off, rain coursed down all the windows, and she could see nothing but the occasional blurred light up ahead. She felt like a sitting target, waiting for that extra strong gust that would knock the truck over, or lift her into the air and then drop her back down. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that in fact the truck was the most dangerous place in the whole village. The warm, solid pub was at her side. Surely she would be safer in there? At least she would be with other people, and not in the dark. A crowd had never seemed so desirable.

A few seconds later, Cassie pushed open the pub door with her body, the bag of flasks in one hand and Gin’s collar in the other. She looked round the pub. It wasn’t as busy as she had expected. There were only three other people there: Mel and Ethel by the bar, and an elderly man sitting at a table. His head dropped down in erratic jerks, then shot back up as he tried to stay awake.

‘Cassie?’ Mel sounded as if she doubted her eyes. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I came with Barney.’

‘Oh yes?’ Mel grinned. ‘I’ll want to hear all about that later.’

‘Where is everyone?’ Cassie asked, ignoring the glint of gossip in Mel’s face. She let go of Gin’s collar, and the dog immediately ran over to the fire and shook herself. Cassie followed. ‘I thought there was an emergency, and help was needed.’

‘Akram phoned Barney because of the weak tree near the village hall. We thought it might hit the power line, so they’re all out seeing if it can be tethered until it can be cut down. But there’s a new problem now. The old bus shelter has blown down, and there’s stone all across the road into the village. No one can get in or out.’

‘Can’t the stones be moved?’

‘That’s what we’ve been discussing. The stones are heavy, and there are loads of them. We could probably only manage one at a time, and in this weather it will take hours.’

‘You need a digger with a bucket, or a tractor,’ Cassie said. ‘Surely there must be a farm round here?’

‘There’s no answer from Green Farm,’ Ethel replied. ‘And our other local farmer is here.’ She gave the man in the chair a prod. ‘He’s sozzled. His tractor is in the car park, but it’s no use without a driver.’

‘Can no one else drive it?’ Cassie asked. Her conscience had grown feet, and she could feel it trying to kick her into action.

‘Barney could, but he’ll be needed by the tree-tethering team.’ Mel sighed. ‘We’ve no choice, have we? We’ll have to start shifting them by hand. You stay here, Ethel. No offence, but you can’t go out humping stones at your age.’

‘Of course I can!’ Ethel was already looking round for her coat. ‘I’m not dead yet. We all muck in together; it’s what we’ve always done in this village.’

It was no use. Loathe as she was to draw attention to herself, Cassie looked at Ethel, in her fluorescent sou’wester and Hotter shoes, and knew she couldn’t allow an elderly woman to go out moving heavy stones in this weather.

‘I could drive the tractor,’ she said. Mel laughed.

‘Frances’ Volvo might feel like a juddery old tractor, but it’s different from driving a real one, or else I’d give it a go myself.’

‘I’ve driven tractors before. I grew up on a farm. My sister still lives there. It’s been a couple of years, but …’

Mel wasn’t waiting to hear any but. She gave the sleeping man a hearty shake.

‘Joe? Where are your keys?’

‘What?’ Joe jerked awake, but his eyelids were fluttering dangerously low. ‘What keys?’

‘Your tractor keys. Come on, hand them over.’

Joe patted his pockets and deposited a set of keys and a dirty tissue onto Mel’s outstretched hand.

‘Wasn’t planning to drive,’ he muttered. ‘Needn’t pinch the keys.’

‘I’m not pinching them. You can have them back later. Cassie needs to borrow your tractor for a while.’

Drunken eyes tried and failed to focus on Cassie.

‘She’s a girl.’

‘Well spotted. But you don’t need a willy to operate the tractor, do you?’ Mel handed the keys over to Cassie. ‘Are you sure about this? We can see if the men can spare Barney.’

Cassie wasn’t the slightest bit sure, bearing in mind that last time she’d driven a tractor she’d ended up in a ditch, but the reference to Barney stiffened her resolve. She didn’t need him to come to her rescue. So she nodded at Mel, put up her hood, and went back outside.

The weather hadn’t improved in the few minutes she’d been in the pub. As soon as Cassie stepped outside, she was attacked by a faceful of rain, and the wind swirled around and inside her over-sized clothes, inflating her coat so that she felt she might take off at any moment. She was propelled into a strange half-run as she headed for the tractor at the far side of the car park. She could hear shouts from the men working down the road, and see shaky torch beams lighting up one of the trees, but she ignored all the activity and concentrated. The tractor was a John Deere, so at least it was familiar, though it was older than the ones she’d driven before. The cab was closed, but one of the doors was missing and the driver’s seat was wet. Cassie climbed in, and pulled down her coat to cover her bottom.

She looked round the cab, adjusted her seat and reacquainted herself with all the controls. Taking a deep breath, she pressed down on the clutch with her left foot, then the brake pedal with her right foot, turned the key and as the engine roared into life, she dropped the throttle. The tractor shuddered and stalled.

Cassie sat back in her seat and felt the cold prickle along the underside of her thighs as dampness penetrated her trousers. She couldn’t do this. What had she been thinking, to push herself forward and volunteer for this? Neither use nor ornament: Mike’s voice, in that special sneering tone he saved for her, sliced through her head, leaving despair behind. She should go back to the pub, admit defeat, and return to hiding away at Ramblings.

But as she looked out at the rain, bracing herself to run to the pub, the feel of the steering wheel beneath her hand and the earthy smell filling the cab combined to revive happier memories of the past. She remembered riding in a tractor with her father, and her delight when he had finally agreed to teach her to drive one. She thought back to the last summer she had spent with Vicky, driving her nephews around, at a time when she had still clung onto a sliver of hope that one day it might be her own child at her side. The memories fought back against the despair. This was her chance to set aside the secrets and deception. The real her was here, sitting in a tractor, ready to work. She could do this.

Cassie tried the tractor again, and this time the engine came to life and stayed alive, each vibration increasing her confidence. She released the clutch slowly, took her foot off the brake and the tractor inched forward across the car park. It was a slow, jerky ride at first, but as she pulled out on to the empty road and picked up speed, familiarity chased away any lingering nerves. She saw Mel and Ethel enthusiastically waving from the front door of the No Name, raised a quick hand back, and headed down past the village green to where the road was blocked.

It took a few minutes to get the hang of operating the loader, and Cassie’s confidence wobbled again as she crawled backwards and forwards, trying to get the angle right for the first scoop. The nearest streetlamp was some way behind her, and even the headlights of the tractor were of limited use when rain continued to lash against the front of the cab and in through the open door. But at last she did it. The first pile of stone was in the loader, and with a few more manoeuvres she deposited it on the village green.

Cassie had no idea how long it took to move the complete pile: probably not much more than twenty minutes; but it felt like hours had passed. Her arms, back and shoulders ached from the effort of controlling the tractor, and every inch of her was drenched, from sweat as much as rain. She climbed down from the cab to check the road, no longer bothering to put up her hood, welcoming the water that ran over her face and slid down her neck. She picked up a couple of stones the tractor had missed, kicked the small debris to the side of the road, and finally drove back to the pub.

‘Oh my God, you’ve really done it, haven’t you? You’re a complete star.’ Mel threw herself on Cassie as soon as she staggered into the pub. ‘Urgh, you’re completely soaked. Come over to the fire and I’ll get you a towel.’

Ethel had pulled up a chair in front of the fire, but stood up when Cassie wandered over. She took Cassie’s hand and shook it in both of hers.

‘We were watching you from the window. You were like one of those land girls from the war! I didn’t think a slip of a thing like you would be able to handle Joe’s old tractor. He’s always complaining how temperamental it is. Well, we’ve shown the men what we’re made of tonight, haven’t we?’

‘Are they back?’ Cassie pushed wet hair away from her face and looked round, horrified by the idea that the whole village might have been standing in the windows watching her efforts.

‘No, they’re still out fiddling with the tree, unless they’ve found another problem now.’

‘Where’s Gin?’ Cassie’s sweep of the pub had shown her a lack of men, but also no dog. She walked round to the other side of the fireplace, and peered into the snug. Gin wasn’t there. ‘Ethel, have you seen Gin?’ Cassie’s voice felt raw in her throat. She ran behind the bar. It was empty. ‘Where’s Gin?’ she repeated.

‘Cassie?’ Mel came back. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I’ve lost Gin.’ She ignored the towel that Mel was attempting to thrust into her hand. ‘He told me to wait in the truck with Gin. Now I’ve lost her. Where has she gone? She can’t have got out, can she?’

‘No,’ Mel said. ‘No one has been in or out since you left.’

‘Well,’ Ethel admitted. ‘I had a peek outside five minutes ago to see what was going on down the road …’

Five minutes ago? How far might Gin have gone in five minutes? She could be anywhere. But then Cassie realised she wouldn’t be just anywhere. She was devoted to Barney. She would be looking for him. Cassie zipped up her coat again, and disregarding Mel’s protests, ventured back outside.

Lights blazed around the village hall and the torch lights confirmed that it was still busy down there. Cassie ran in that direction, scanning the sides of the road and calling for Gin, though the wind tossed her words straight back at her. She reached the hall without finding the dog, and to her dismay the first person she saw was Barney, standing in the open doorway.

‘There’s more rope in the storeroom,’ she heard him shout. ‘I’ll go and get it.’

He disappeared into the hall, and seconds later Cassie heard a bark, and saw a furry form slink through the door behind him.

‘Gin!’ she called. ‘Gin! Come back!’

But her words were drowned out by an almighty crack that she would never forget, and she watched in helpless, hopeless horror as a tree crashed down through the roof of the village hall.