Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
It had started as a teenage sulk of a sky – low, moody, and oppressive. By mid-afternoon, the first fat drops of rain splashed on the cobbles of Cranley’s main street, leaving dark freckles that quickly bled together.
Beth stepped out of the back door of The Jekyll and Hyde, kitchen heat colliding with the sudden chill outside. A strong gust of wind tugged at her apron and she shivered.
‘Oh, brilliant,’ she muttered, watching the rain bounce off the bins. ‘Exactly what we need.’
Inside, the old pub groaned as if in harmony with the change in pressure. Bottles rattled faintly on the shelves. Down in the basement, something gave a hiccup – a bright metallic ping! – followed by a faint, petulant voice only Beth could hear. ‘That’s not thunder, is it?’
Beth froze.
‘Gigi, don’t start,’ she hissed, glancing towards the handful of sodden customers who’d braved the downpour.
‘It’s atmospheric, darling. Storms make me feel positively giddy. I love, love, love a good old hooley. Wind howling and things flying around. Makes me want to—’
‘No.’
‘But—’
‘You’re not doing anything. It’s just weather. It’ll pass.’
There was a wounded hiss, like a kettle on the brink of boiling. ‘Fine. But if you need a little magic to keep the water out, I’m your genie.’
‘I need a mop, not a miracle,’ she muttered, retreating to her chopping board.
By five o’clock, the rain was biblical. Sheets of it slanted sideways, drains gurgling in protest. Out front, the street shimmered like a river, the flower tubs outside the bakery floating away like little lifeboats.
The door burst open and Kieran stumbled in, drenched, hair plastered to his forehead. ‘Got an ark out back?’ he asked, shaking water from his sleeves.
Beth tossed him a towel. Tried to keep her tone even. ‘Just the mop and bucket. Are you all right?’
‘The power’s gone at the cottage: the road’s half-flooded already. Lisa’s doing her best to stay positive, which mostly involves lighting scented candles and asking when the Wi-Fi will come back on.’
Beth gave a small, tight smile. ‘She sounds helpful.’ She didn’t particularly want to know about Lisa and what her appearance in Cranley meant.
Kieran laughed, rubbing his face dry. ‘That’s one word for it.’
Moments later half the village arrived, in a wave of dripping coats and loud complaints.
‘Jeez Louise!’ shouted Janette, dragging Alison and Hector behind her. ‘The forecast said rain, no’ Armageddon!’
Beth snapped into action, making toasted sandwiches and heating up soup, while Kieran helped Ed fetch towels from upstairs. The wind howled and the lights flickered on and off.
As Beth worked, she heard a familiar voice whisper in her ear.
‘You said no miracles,’ Gigi purred, ‘but someone needs a hero. A small nudge of fate, perhaps. Something impressive. Something—’Beth burst into the basement just as he started to hum. ‘Don’t even think about it!’ she snapped, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘You’ll make it worse.’
Gigi pouted, his eyes glowing like twin marbles. ‘You underestimate my prowess.’
‘No magic, Gigi. Promise me.’ Beth felt scared – by the storm, and also the inner tempest created by Kieran’s presence.
Gigi sighed. ‘Fine. But you’ll regret it when you think about how much fun I could add to the mix.’
Beth gave him a warning look and went back upstairs.
The pub had become a storm shelter. Locals huddled as Ed and Angela placed candles as a precaution on the tables and Rose scurried around with toasties and soup.
‘Beth, we’re out of clean bowls! Can you—’
‘On it,’ she said, rolling up her sleeves.
Through the front windows, the world was a blur of silver rain and floating debris. She tried not to think about Kieran, who was helping a group of villagers move furniture away from the door, his soaked shirt clinging to his back. Every time she looked at him, something in her chest tightened.
And then Lisa swept in, wearing pastel leggings and an enormous hessian poncho, holding a yoga mat above her head like a useless umbrella. ‘Kieran!’ she wailed. ‘The cottage smells damp!’
‘That’s because it is,’ he said, laughing.
‘I can’t breathe in there, it’s so … moist! Do you know what humidity does to my skin?’
Beth bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.
Lisa spotted her. ‘Oh, hello,’ she said with the fake friendliness of someone remembering a name from the wrong conversation. ‘Still cooking, I see.’
‘Still raining,’ Beth said evenly.
Kieran looked as if he wanted to sink through the floor.
Beth went back to the kitchen, pretending not to care. She ladled soup into bowls and told herself she was absolutely, definitely not listening for the sound of Lisa’s laugh. That the storm didn’t reflect her inner turmoil. That her emotions bore no resemblance to the tempest raging outside.
But Gigi, of course, was listening.
In the basement, the genie flicked through the noise of the pub like someone tuning an old radio. He heard Lisa’s voice and scowled.
‘This one’s trouble,’ he said to himself. ‘My Beth deserves better. Time to have a little fun.’
He snapped his fingers. A faint shimmer of light rippled up the stairs.
In the main room, Lisa shrieked. ‘My hair! It’s gone frizzy!’
The villagers turned. Her sleek ponytail had exploded into a bouffant halo of manic curls.
‘Must be the storm,’ said Kieran, valiantly suppressing a smile.
Beth froze in the doorway, horrified. She looked down at the basement. ‘Gigi!’ she hissed.
‘I didn’t do anything!’ came a distant, innocent voice.
‘Undo it!’
A reluctant poof, and Lisa’s hair returned to its usual perfection.
Beth exhaled and returned to the bar, heart hammering. She caught Kieran’s eye. He gave her a questioning look, but she shook her head.
Outside, the rain intensified. The pub lights flickered. Then, with a sigh, the power went out.
Gasps filled the room.
‘Everyone keep calm!’ Beth said quickly, snatching up a box of matches. ‘Ed, let’s light the candles.’
‘I’ll help.’ Kieran took a proffered lighter from a customer clutching a packet of cigarettes and grumbling about being unable to smoke.
They moved around the bar together, striking matches and setting small circles of light on the tables. The glow softened the faces around them: tired, wet, but grateful.
‘You’re good in a crisis,’ Kieran said quietly.
Beth smiled without looking at him. ‘I work in a kitchen. Everything’s a crisis.’
He laughed, and for a moment the tension between them felt almost warm.
Lisa appeared beside them, holding a candle as if it might explode. ‘I can’t possibly stay here all night!’
‘You can go outside if you prefer,’ Ed said. ‘Isn’t rainwater good for the skin?’
The villagers chuckled. Lisa glared and flounced off to a corner table, where she began scrolling uselessly on her dead phone.
Beth caught Kieran’s eye, and for a heartbeat, the storm outside seemed very far away.
Before she could speak, a faint rumble came from below. Not thunder this time, but something suspiciously like laughter.
‘No,’ she breathed. ‘Not now.’
‘What?’ Kieran asked.
‘Nothing! Just … the boiler. It’s temperamental.’
A moment later, bubbles of golden light drifted up through the floorboards, swirling around Lisa’s table like fireflies. The villagers gasped.
‘Oooh, look at that!’ cried Peggy. ‘It’s like fairy lights!’
Lisa blinked. ‘Finally, some ambience.’
Beth bolted for the basement. ‘Gigi, stop it right now!’ she whispered furiously.
‘It’s just a bit of mood lighting,’ he said sulkily. ‘It’s dark up there.’
‘People can see it!’
‘Oh, right. Sorry.’ The lights vanished, leaving only the candles.
When Beth emerged again, everyone was talking about the strange glow.
‘Must be swamp gas,’ said Jimmy.
‘Or maybe the whisky fumes have reached critical mass,’ someone else joked.
Kieran grinned at Beth. ‘You really have got a magic touch tonight.’
She laughed weakly, wiping her hands on her apron. You have no idea.
The hours dragged on. Rain hammered the roof like applause. The old men swapped stories about the last great flood of whatever year sprang to mind.
Beth moved quietly among them, topping up bowls, checking blankets, her presence calm and practical. She sensed Kieran watching her and her earlier frostiness melted.
Lisa eventually dozed off, her head tipped back, snoring faintly through a flimsy chiffon scarf.
‘She’ll catch cold,’ Beth murmured, covering her with a spare blanket.
‘You’re too kind,’ Kieran said.
‘I’m just keeping the peace.’
‘Still kind.’
Their eyes met. For a second, the noise of the pub faded. All that existed was the candlelight between them and the steady drumming of rain.
Then Gigi, ever impatient, decided to help things along.
A gentle nudge of magic, a flicker of power – and every candle in the room suddenly flared, golden and romantic. The villagers cheered.
Beth screwed up her eyes. ‘I’m going to strangle him.’
‘Who?’ Kieran asked, bewildered.
‘The – boiler. Still temperamental.’
He chuckled. ‘You’re full of surprises, Beth.’
‘That’s me,’ she said softly.
By dawn, the storm had spent itself. Cranley was drenched but standing. The Jekyll and Hyde had held fast, mostly thanks to Beth.
As villagers drifted into the washed-out morning, Kieran lingered at the door. ‘You were incredible last night,’ he murmured.
‘I only made soup.’
‘You kept everyone calm. Including me.’
Beth smiled. ‘Then I did my job.’
Lisa’s voice floated up the street. ‘Kieran! The cottage is still damp!’
Beth sighed, half-amused, as Kieran walked after her.
From the basement came a smug whisper: ‘You’re welcome.’
Beth smiled to herself. ‘You’re grounded,’ she muttered, though she couldn’t hide the warmth in her voice.