Possibly her last totally clear memory was of Lol coming back into Lucy’s house, where she and Eirion were still sitting by the wood stove, Lol’s new music playing low on the stereo.
And Lol had said,
Jim Prosser had told him. Jim had been standing in his shop doorway telling everybody that the bridge had collapsed.
But it was worse than that. It was the one at the end of the bypass.
Caple End.
Which wasn’t even very old — nineteenth century — and had just given way. Lay in pieces in the river.
Jane had lied. Well, there was no alternative. Small Deliverance job, she’d said. When she’d tried Mum’s mobile it was always engaged. When they’d gone out to join the growing crowd in the street, she’d cornered Jim Prosser. Nobody had been… hurt… had they?
Jim didn’t know.
When Mum eventually rang it was from the bastard Ward Savitch’s farm. Nearest to Caple End, apparently, and there was a fairly wide footbridge on Savitch’s land, originally for getting cattle to and from fields either side of the river. No good for cars, but at least you could get across on foot or a mountain bike or something. The only access now.
Police were sending everybody back, Mum had said, but all the other lanes were flooded. With the bypass cut off, it meant there was no way in and out of Ledwardine for vehicles until the council could get something called a Bailey bridge installed, and that was going to be well after Christmas.
Mum said she’d walk, which might take some time, but at least she had the torch, but Jane had called Gomer, who’d taken his latest old jeep across the fields, all the gates open, now that all the livestock had been taken inside or onto higher ground.
About an hour later, Mum had come stumbling in, hooded and dripping, thrusting the guitar case at Jane:
Surreal.
And now it was Christmas Eve and Mum, up till one, was, Jane hoped, still sleeping. One way or another, this was going to be a very different kind of Christmas.
‘You’ve done just about enough now,’ Jane told the river. ‘You’ve made your point.’
She noticed how the dark water was creeping like a shadow up the pavement towards the steps of the first of the black and white houses, and heard Nick Drake singing,
‘
Jane spun round.
‘…
‘God.’
He was standing in his doorway, in dark clothing and no light behind him. She must’ve walked right past him.
‘You couldn’t sleep either, then,’ Lol said.
‘No.’
She was shaken. It was probably the first time he’d sung to her live, and he’d sounded so much like the dead Nick Drake it was eerie.
‘How long’ve you been there?’
‘Couple of minutes, that’s all.’ Lol pointed down Church Street. ‘See how it’s actually rising?’
‘Even though it’s stopped raining?’
‘It’s coming down from the higher streams now…’
‘That means even if it doesn’t rain for a while, it’s actually going to get worse?’
‘It’s got worse in the past few hours. They’ve put sandbags out at the Ox.’
‘God, sandbags for Christmas?’
‘And now we won’t be able to get the fire brigade in to pump water away. Maybe Pierce is right. If Ledwardine was twice the size it might have its own fire station.’
‘Don’t talk like that.’ Jane had lowered her voice, aware of the echoes they were making in the still, shiny street. ‘What’s going to happen, Lol? I mean, what are people doing?’
‘Bull-Davies and Lyndon Pierce seem to be working together, for once. I think people whose homes are in danger will be encouraged to move out today. Better now than Christmas morning. At least it’s still more or less a working day.’
‘But how can they
‘Special buses. Coaches. They’ll set up a pick-up point at Caple End, on the other side of what used to be the bridge. Ward Savitch is making a field available as a parking area — where your mum left the Volvo, I imagine. And then they’ll go across his footbridge to the bus.’
‘I suppose Savitch is charging an arm and a leg for parking.’
‘I don’t think he’d dare charge anything,’ Lol said. ‘Somebody was saying he’d been using bales of straw as some kind of cheap flood barrier, and the whole lot had given way and fallen into the river, blocking up the bridge arches. Which may have been what drastically increased the pressure. Or helped, anyway.’
‘
Lol shrugged.
‘Lol, look… why don’t you try and get some sleep while you can? Big night tonight.’
‘Won’t be that big. Might not be much of an audience left.’
‘Well, I put it up on the Coleman’s Meadow website. People the world over…’
‘That was a kind thought, but they can’t get in. Anyway, I might have to go out with Gomer again, if it —’
‘Like, no
‘I might be fairly useless,’ Lol said, ‘but I think he trusts me to follow orders.’
‘What if you damage your hand? What about your shoulder?’
His injury from Garway in October. He never mentioned it but she was sure it must flare up. And anyway, there’d be a lot of blokes available to help Gomer now. It wasn’t as if anybody was going to be able to go to work or for last-minute shopping… or anything.
Jane gazed down the skeletal street. It was going to be weird. There’d be no traffic. No one driving in, no one driving out. Nowhere to go.
Almost like a return to medieval times.
46
Pentagram
Around dawn, Bliss’s phone was ringing as if from the bottom of a lift shaft. In fact, from the bottom drawer of his bedside cabinet, where Kirsty had made him keep it. He pulled out the whole drawer to get at it and the drawer came apart, like it was reverting to flatpack, whole shoddy sections dropping into the still-sodden pile of Bliss’s clothes.
‘Boss?’
‘Frigging time you call this, Andy?’
Peering towards what light there was. The sky through the bedroom window looked like a badly bandaged wound.
