Page 12 of Welcome to Pennycress Inn

She was so stupid. Why had she thought she could do this? Despite the cold, her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Everyone would soon discover she was as useless as she’d always known she was. She swiped her eyes with her sleeve as her tears mixed with the rain. She’d failed before she’d even opened the place.

Lowering her head to her knees, she closed her eyes. She knew she was feeling sorry for herself, but she couldn’t help it. Who wouldn’t if they were in her position – stranded on the roof in the middle of a thunderstorm with no way of getting down and little chance of anyone turning up to help?

The only thing she could do now was to wait and hope the postman passed by or a delivery driver got lost and meandered down the garden path. She curled her shoulders, making herself as small as she possibly could and shielding as much of herbody against the now pelting rain. She should have worn her coat; she’d been chilly when she’d started this mission, but she’d thought it would just get in the way and that it would be safer not to have it on in case it got caught on the ladder. Well, now she had no coat, no ladder and no phone.

The rain slid from her hair beneath the neck of her jumper, freezing her skin as it did so. She was soaking already, and it had barely been two minutes since the weather had changed.

Laura looked up towards the dark clouds as a flash of lightning streaked across the sky. Was she even safe here? Would the lightning strike her, or would it hit the roof of the inn first? Surely the latter. That’s what she’d been taught – that lightning struck the tallest object – not that knowing this fact put her mind at rest at all. There were always exceptions to every rule, weren’t there?

As the wind picked up and the rain continued to hammer down, she felt the tiles beneath her become more slippery and she reached out, pulling herself back up towards the window. How long could she stay like this? How long before she just slid right off the bay roof and landed in a broken heap on the ground below? And how long would it be until someone found her? Her body could be lying there, crumpled for hours, days, weeks, months. Forever.

No, her family would call her and at some point, they’d become suspicious and wonder why she wasn’t picking up. At some point, they’d make the two-hour journey down to the Cotswolds and discover her body, likely half-eaten by that damn sheep.

Did sheep eat meat? Were they carnivores? Or was it just grass and hay they ate? She’d never seen a sheep eat meat. The ones she’d seen just lived in a field with grass. Maybe she’d be okay then. Maybe the runaway sheep wouldn’t get to her. Maybe it would just be the crows.

She shuddered. What had a sheep been doing in her garden, anyway? Yes, she knew it was overgrown, but come on…

7

Was that the sound of an engine? Straining her ears, Laura tried to pick out any other sounds apart from the relentless splattering of rain. Yes, there was definitely a rumbling noise. And thankfully it wasn’t the thunder returning. There was life beyond the garden gate.

Straightening her back, she gripped the window ledge above her and took a deep breath in, screaming as loudly as she possibly could, ‘Help! In here! In the garden. Help!’

Nothing.

She yelled again, desperately trying to project her voice as far as possible, ‘Help! In here! At the inn.’

Keeping her eyes fixed on the garden gate, Laura listened. The rumble of the car engine had disappeared, the torrent of rain the only sound filling the air around her again. Curling back up, she wiped the rain from her eyelashes before closing them, her slither of hope quickly disappearing.

‘Laura? Laura, did you shout?’

Flinging her eyes open again, Laura watched as Jackson opened the garden gate before letting it swing shut behind him. He’d always been the sensible one of him and her brother andtoday was no different. He was wearing a dark blue coat with the hood pulled up right over his dark curls.

All she wanted was to call out, alert him she was there, and get down into the heat of the inn, but the nagging thoughts of what her family would say, of what this would prove to them, whirred in her mind. Maybe someone else would come by? Maybe she’d be able to shout again if she heard someone walk past?

She watched as he jumped the stairs to the decking and hammered on the front door. He hadn’t seen her. He wouldn’t see her. Not with his hood up and the ladder half camouflaged by the undergrowth.

But if she let him walk away, this might be her last chance – her only chance – of a rescue. She’d either have to risk broken bones and get down herself or spend the night stranded up here. She’d certainly catch pneumonia and then wouldn’t be able to get the inn up and running.

Either way, her parents, her family, her friends would be right. They’d know she couldn’t cope. Heck, she couldn’t even get someone out to mend the damn washing machine and every single repair company she’d spoken to had said it was an easy fix. Surely that meant it would be easy money for them? A five-minute job they could charge a hundred pounds for. So why wouldn’t anyone help her?

And why had everyone been so snooty towards her in the village?

She swiped at her eyes, almost laughing at herself. Tears, rainwater, it didn’t matter; she was soaked anyway.

She watched as Jackson retreated back along the garden path before pausing and turning to look back at the inn – a look of confusion sweeping across his face.

It wasn’t until his hand was on the gate latch that Laura snapped out of her pity party and took a breath. ‘Jackson, up here.’

Turning back once more, Jackson surveyed the garden.

‘Here. Up on the roof.’ What was the point anymore? Her parents had been right, everyone had, and the sooner she admitted that, the sooner she’d be able to get inside and dry off.

Pushing his hood down, Jackson shielded his eyes with a hand and looked up, his eyes widening as he met her gaze. ‘Laura. What on earth are you doing up there?’

‘Trying to get a mobile signal.’ She swallowed, her throat hoarse from screaming and the sarcasm lost on even herself. She looked pointedly at the ladder. ‘There was a sheep.’

‘Jeez.’ Running back up the path, Jackson lifted the ladder and repositioned it against the roof of the bay.

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