I started to walk back up the path, my heart racing, and that’s when the first drops of rain fell. Big, icy drops bouncing furiously off my head. The whole sky lit up as lightning forked overhead and then came the long crash and rumble of thunder.
I’d seen a story on the news about a man who’d been struck by lightning in his garden and he’d died right there. Panic choked my throat as the second bolt of lightning lit up the scary landscape around me. I tried to scream but I couldn’t. Then my foot caught something and I tripped and fell hard onto my knees.
The thunder crashed overhead, louder this time. As I scrambled to my feet, my hands touched something slimy on the path and it moved. I screamed because I thought it must be a rat.
I was going to die.
No one knew I was out here in the thunderstorm and the darkness. Except Lucy, but she wouldn’t care what happened to me.
I made it to the house, tears mingling with the icy rain on my face. I made my numb hands into fists and banged as hard as I could on the back door. The sound of ‘Jingle Bells’ was blaring out from inside, and another wave of panic seized me. I would be out here all night in the storm. No one would hear me because of the party music. I was going to die and Mum and Dad were going to be so sad …
Looking back, I think Lucy must have deliberately turned the music right up so no one would hear me battering on the door.
It probably wasn’t that long before I was missed, but for ten-year-old me, standing outside as the storm raged around me, it felt like hours. Finally, the door opened and there was Diane’s mum, standing in a pool of light. She pulled me in and all the kids came into the hall and stared at me because I couldn’t stop sobbing. Diane’s mum led me into the kitchen and gently dried my face and my hair with a towel. She fetched some clothes of Diane’s but I folded my arms and refused to take off my red velvet dress, even though it was all muddied down the front from when I fell.
Mum and Dad came to pick me up soon after that and took me home. For weeks, I was scared to go outside if it was raining. Even now, I get a slightly panicky, choked-throat feeling if I’m out and the sky looks threatening, especially if I’m a long way from home.
And I still can’t handle thunderstorms …
Chapter 23
As I curl myself into an even tighter ball, pulling my knees to my chest and burying my head there, I’m hoping and praying the storm will be over as swiftly as it arrived.
My neck and back ache where I’m stretching the muscles, bending over to protect my head with my arms. I’ve been on-line so many times, anxious to know how to survive a lightning strike, and most of the advice is the same: sit on the floor, then the lightning will probably rush up one leg and down the other, leaving your vital organs untouched. I’m not sure if that applies when you’re twelve feet in the air, in a treehouse, though. Perhaps what I’m doing is the worst thing of all …
Another huge lightning flash penetrates my screwed-up eyes and I tense my body even more, waiting for the long crashing noise that sounds like a monster hurling heavy furniture down the stairs. It’s so frighteningly close. The storm must be directly overhead, and I’m in the trees, which must be the worst place to be. But I can’t move from here. I just couldn’t make my legs do what I want them to do.
I’m stuck here until it passes.
Fuck! I can’t bear it!
The mantra! Say the mantra!
Slowly stirring the fruit and spices into my Christmas pudding. Smells so good!
A cold hand is gripping my insides, squeezing ever tighter. The panic is rising. Being alone in the storm is the very worst thing. When I was a child, Mum would come and sit on the bed and sort of hug me through the duvet. These days, I make sure I’m indoors with other people, preferably people who know about my phobia and will distract me and cluster round protectively and tell me I’m going to be fine.
I once read that if you’re alone, it helps to think of a calming image, so I know it sounds daft, but I always think of Stir-Up Sunday, the day I make my Christmas pudding.
Slowly stirring the fruit and spices into my Christmas pudding. Smells so good!
It’s not working.
I remember my phone in my pocket. I could call Paloma. She would come. Then my heart sinks. She’s away tonight at some graphics event in London. Oh God, who else … ?
I can’t phone Betty or Doreen and ask them to brave the raging storm for me. They’d think I was mad. And anyway, they’d never be able to climb up here without some help.
A vision of Jason swims into my head, sitting in the café with me earlier. Feeling that strange sensation that the years had magically rolled away and we were strong as ever. Still together.
I pull out the phone and stare at it.
Lucy has moved out, so Jason will be alone in the house. He’s a kind man. That’s one of the things I loved most about him. His kindness and gentleness. He understands my fear and he wouldn’t want me to be here, alone. I glance at the time. Just after ten. He’ll definitely still be up. Jason is a bit of a news junkie, so if he’s at home, he’ll be watching TV right now.
I draw a deep breath and find his number. Lucy gave it to
