Page 31 of Worse Than Murder
‘Has it all come off?’ Lynne asks, moving away from the window.
‘It’s flapping about like mad. It won’t hold for much longer,’ he says, standing up and heading into the kitchen.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To do a bodge repair until the storm passes.’
‘You’re going out in this?’ she asks, wide-eyed with fear.
‘If the rainwater gets in, it will soak the hay, and any flying debris could spook the horses. It might even injure them. I can’t risk it.’
‘You can’t go out in this, Iain. It’s barely getting started and it’s going to get much worse.’
‘What else can I do?’ he asks, raising his arms. ‘Where are my waders?’
Lynne follows him into the utility room where he’s putting on his waterproof coat and hat.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No, you won’t.’
‘I can help.’
‘I’m not having you going out in this.’
‘We’re partners, Iain. It’s my problem as much as it is yours.’
‘No. You need to stay here. Some of the owners will be ringing up asking how their horses are. They’ll not be happy if the phone goes unanswered. They’ll think something’s happened.’
‘No. They’ll assume we’re out looking after their horses. Let me come with you.’
Iain slips his feet into wellington boots and goes to his wife. He holds her firmly by the shoulders and kisses her on the forehead.
‘I’ll be fine. I’ll be half an hour at the most.’
He opens the back door, and the storm hits him full in the face, causing him to recoil. He’s only been back in the house for twenty minutes or so and already the wind has increased in strength. He pushes forward and pulls the door closed with a slam behind him.
Lynne stands, arms folded against her chest. The last major storm resulted in her losing her first husband. She couldn’t stand it if she lost her second, too.
* * *
‘You’d think it was midnight,’ Alison Pemberton says as she looks out of the front passenger window of the police car.
Claire Daniels is driving, painfully slowly, blue lights flashing, as they make their way towards High Chapel Primary School. It’s to be a place of safety should the village have to be evacuated. Unfortunately, a tree has fallen, blocking the road leading to the main entrance. A farmer with a tractor is on his way to move the tree, but the headteacher called the police to let them know of the incident.
‘I hate driving in this,’ Claire says. ‘I can’t see anything in front of me.’
The windscreen wipers are useless in such treacherous conditions.
‘It’s times like this I wish I had a safe job like a librarian or something,’ Claire continues. ‘I’d be indoors right now, sitting in front of the fire, duvet wrapped around me, reading a Jane Austen.’
‘You’ve never read a Jane Austen a day in your life,’ Alison laughs.
‘I readWuthering Heightsat school.’
‘That’s Emily Bronte,’ Alison corrects her.
‘Same thing.’
