Chapter Twelve
Beryl hadn’t been kidding about the weather. The next day the wind and rain started to pick up and Paddy began to wonder about how safe she was in a house by the sea. This was her first storm and she was unprepared for how her little bay could be swept up into a maelstrom. She lit the fire having first watched a video on YouTube on how to do it, and was thrilled with her efforts. A modern-day Prometheus. She laughed and watched something soporific on TV until she yawned and headed to bed. With the fire banked down and the TV off, the noise of the storm grew louder. Switching her light off she snuggled down under the heavy eiderdown and listened to the wind blowing around the house and the waves crashing on the shore, she gradually fell asleep.
A loud bang jerked her out of her slumber and for a second Paddy didn’t know where she was. In a rush it all came back and she leant over to switch on her bedside light. She tried again and decided the power must be out. She’d never experienced a power cut before but that was all she could think of. The bedroom door was banging and she got up searching around for her dressing gown. She switched on the torch on her phone and felt a breeze on her face, surely she hadn’t left a window open?
Heading downstairs, she felt the odd spot of rain and saw in the small pool of light that one of the windows looking over the beach was broken. There was glass on the floor and Paddy headed into the porch for her boots. The sound from outside was terrifying, the tide must have come in while the storm was still raging. Grabbing a load of towels she stuffed them in the broken pane and retreated to the study and tried to decide what to do. She was terrified the house was going to be swept away but she was also terrified that if she tried to walk up to the big house, a tree might fall on her. Something smacked against the side of the house making the windows shake. With a small yelp of terror she grabbed the house keys and flung open the side door. The wind tried to rip it out of her hands and she was terrified by the white waves she could just make out in the darkness, tearing away at the beach. She screamed at the waves but they just roared back. Dragging the door closed she stumbled up the drive to the big house. Her phone torch gave her a small pool of light as she stepped over branches and seaweed, strewn along the drive. Leaves and rain hit her face and she was convinced the waves were racing up the driveway ready to pull her back into the sea. She tripped and fell twice on loose branches, scuffing her palms as she fell. In her panic she didn’t even feel it and finally stumbled into the house, closing the front door behind her. Shaking, she headed for the first bedroom. She wasn’t sure what to do for the best; there was no point in calling anyone until the day broke. Nothing could be done in the dark.
Now she lay shivering under the covers, she found herself wanting to call Hal. He would know what to do. She had tried to avoid the big house ever since the filming. Each time she wandered into the chapel she thought of Hal. Despite her best efforts she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. He wasn’t her type; she normally avoided upper class spoilt types but as she had got to know him over dinner, she had begun to discover a man with the same sense of humour as her own and a depth of kindness and attentiveness that surprised her. She wanted to call him now, knowing that just hearing his voice would calm her down. Instead, she shivered under the covers feeling miserable, until she finally fell asleep.
A few hours later she woke up to blue skies and sunlight pouring in. For a few seconds she was disoriented, this wasn’t her bedroom. And then it came back to her, her bedroom was down the drive. Once again, she found herself thinking about this large empty house. She felt guilty that a house this big didn’t have people in it. She would have to do more about getting some more holiday bookings or film locations booked in.
It was only seven but she got up and walked back down the drive in her dressing gown to survey the damage. She was mocking herself as a terrified city girl running from a bit of noise when she stepped over a plant pot, halfway up the drive. Coming around the corner she could see her poor little home had taken quite a beating. The small table that normally sat on the lower patio was around the back by her car. There was no sign of the chairs. The big wooden table and benches on the top patio were roughly in place but tipped over and now she understood why they were chained down. The worst of the damage, though, was the broken porch window and two wooden shutters, hanging loose off their hinges. Her bucket of cockleshells was nowhere to be seen.
Paddy groaned. When she had first told Mr Chadwell she was going to move down to the cottage, he had told her how to use the shutters and to always pay attention to any storm warnings. Especially easterlies. She was lucky she hadn’t lost more windows. In the kitchen the cooker timer was flashing. At least she had electricity again so she put the kettle on, and headed upstairs for a shower. She got dressed into some practical clothes and shoved her filthy nightdress and dressing gown into the washing machine. She would also have to strip last night’s bed. Looking at the state of her body and clothes she was prepared to bet the sheets up in the big house were covered in mud. For now, though, she went and found a broom. Currently her patio was covered in stones and seaweed but at least she wouldn’t have to sweep them far.
At nine she called the land agent and explained she needed a few repairs. Applauding her bravery he told her someone would be with her later that day. Apparently, it had been quite a big storm and he’d get the workmen to check the roof as well. She hadn’t even thought to check the roof. Looking after property was a bit of a revelation.
‘Any damage on any of the other properties?’ his voice interrupted her thoughts.
‘God, that hadn’t even crossed my mind! I’ll get over there straightaway and find out.’ Damn, her first actual event and she hadn’t thought beyond her own windows, let alone the roof, let alone anyone else’s.
‘Don’t worry.’ Mr Chadwell sounded distracted, she imagined he was dealing with many similar calls this morning. ‘If there was any damage they would have been in touch. We have a good system of repairs and renovations. Your insurance will pick up any major problems, but we generally fix things from your contingency funds.’
Only slightly mollified, Paddy thanked him and then walked over to the village to check anyway. Everything seemed fine but she was determined not to make any assumptions and knocked on the pub door. Beyond a fresh layer of seaweed in the beer garden, Paul told her there was nothing to worry about. He offered her a drink, but she wanted to get home and ask Nick to explain the finer points of insurance and contingency funds.