Civvy Street (38 page)

‘Maybe. I just wish I could be so certain. Susie and I don’t need any more bad luck.’

‘More bad luck?’ said Seb.

Mike nodded. ‘You have no idea. I’ll fill you in when this is over. That is, if you want to know.’

‘Of course I do. I didn’t know things had been so tough.’

Mike shrugged. ‘At least we’re better off than the folks hereabouts. And us gassing isn’t helping them. Come on, let’s get out there and lend a hand.’

When Susie woke up the next morning the first thing she was aware of was the sound of rain still pattering against the windows. Then she remembered Mike was out dealing with flood defences – being OIC sandbags wasn’t such a joke any more – and finally she remembered about her daughters’ truancy the previous afternoon and evening. With a groan, as everything piled into her brain, she rolled onto her back and gazed at the ceiling. Why was life so utterly shit? she wondered.

In order to help blot out the vileness of her own circumstances she leaned over and hit the ‘on’ button on the bedside radio and switched on the light. The sound of a seventies pop classic filled the bedroom and as the chorus faded away the presenter from the local radio station announced that they were going live to a report from the Bavant valley. Susie pricked up her ears.

The report started off with a vivid description of the river and then narrowed down to stories of flooded houses, pensioners being rescued by the fire service, the centres where the locals were being given beds, shelter and food and the heroic work of locally based soldiers who were trying to stop the terrible situation getting worse.

‘And with that,’ said the female radio journalist, ‘back to Andy in the warmth of our studio.’

At least, thought Susie, there was no mention of any casualties which meant Mike might be wet, cold and miserable but he was still fine. And, given the terrible situation of some of the locals, she had precious little to bitch about. Yes, the twins were being a nightmare at the moment but they were nearly teenagers so probably no worse than many other girls of the same age, they could do with more money, she hankered after a nicer house and Mike certainly deserved a better paid job, but compared to what other people had going on... no, she needed to be grateful for what she had and stop moaning.

It might be only seven in the morning on a Sunday but she needed tea. Susie swung her legs out of bed and stood up, glancing out of the window as she did. Shit a brick! She could see from the light of a street lamp that half of the front garden was under water. The concrete bridge had water flowing over it and water was racing down their road, towards the fields at the end, in a flood that must have been almost a foot deep. Susie ran down the stairs and opened the front door. The water would have to rise another foot or two before things became really critical so the house was safe for the time being but for how long? She slammed the door again, put the kettle on then went to the computer in the corner of the sitting room and switched it on. When she’d made her tea she returned to it and Googled ‘flood warnings’.

Thank God for the Internet, she thought as the Met Office flood-warning site filled the screen. Quickly she bunged in her postcode.
Be prepared
, warned the site. Susie flopped back in the office chair and took a sip of tea as she stared at the computer. Be prepared? What did that mean? Blow up the water wings? Leave? Move their possessions upstairs? Susie swivelled her chair around and looked at their furniture. Could she and the two girls get that lot upstairs? Some of it, obviously; the TV, the coffee table, the computer, the smaller stuff maybe, but the three-piece suite, the fridge freezer or the washing machine? No way. And there was another question Susie wanted answering – how much worse might it get?

She picked up her mobile. She knew Mike would be busy but hell, if he didn’t have the answer, who would? Besides, how long would it take him to answer her question? She dialled his number. She listened to it ring and ring before she got diverted to voicemail. Bum. She left a brief message and then sent a text and when she’d done that she went and woke up the twins.

Peremptorily she flicked on the light switches in both rooms and then entered each room in turn to shake her daughters by the shoulders, telling them that she didn’t care it was the weekend, there was an emergency.

‘Wha...’ said Katie, the first twin she woke, as she rubbed her eyes.

‘Gerroff,’ was Ella’s response.

‘The house is about to be flooded,’ snapped Susie from the landing where she had flicked back a curtain to see what the water level was doing.

That woke them up.

‘How, when?’ said Katie.

Ella jumped out of bed and looked out of her window at the view over the almost pitch-dark Downs to the rear of the house. ‘No, it isn’t,’ she said, frowning.

‘Check the stream at the front,’ said Susie.

Both girls padded out onto the landing and stood beside their mother. They froze when they saw what was happening outside.

‘What are we going to do?’ asked Katie.

‘First, you’re going to help me move everything we possibly can upstairs. I’ve left messages with Daddy to see if it’s feasible for us to get out of the village. I don’t know how bad it is around about. If it
is
possible to leave, I’m going to ring Maddy and see if we can stay with her; if it isn’t we’ll have to camp upstairs until either the floods go down or someone comes and rescues us.’

Both girls looked genuinely frightened. ‘And what if they don’t?’ whispered Ella.

‘They will,’ said Susie. ‘We’ll be safe if we stay put and we’ll only try and leave if I can be absolutely sure we can get out. The last time that stream almost flooded it was only this bit of the village that was affected because of the spring up the hill from us. If you remember the rest of the village was fine, it was just this estate that almost went under. This time though, the flooding isn’t the result of a freak cloudburst, so I don’t know.’ She shook her head.

‘So, you mean, everywhere could be flooded,’ said Katie.

Susie gave her daughters a hug – the previous evening’s shenanigans forgotten now something more serious had taken her attention. She felt helpless and useless in the face of such a potential disaster but there was nothing she could do to influence events. She could, however, with the help of the twins, try and save some of their possessions if the water did make it into their house.

‘I don’t know. We’ve got to hope it isn’t. And in the meantime we’ve got to try and save what we can here, not that we
will
get flooded but better safe than sorry.’ She smiled at her daughters with false confidence, trying to allay any fears they might have. ‘So get dressed and I’ll make you both a cuppa and then we must get busy.’

Ten minutes later she and Ella were busy hauling books, the computer, and anything they could physically lift up the stairs. Susie put Katie in charge of stacking things in the spare room.

‘Got to try and get as much as we can in here,’ she instructed her daughter, ‘so be as neat as possible and put the heavy stuff on the floor and pile the lighter stuff on top.’

Normally Susie might have expected Katie to make some sort of snarky comment back at her about grandmothers and eggs or some such, but on this occasion she just nodded meekly.

For the first half-hour Susie peered out of the sitting room window every few minutes to judge if the water level was getting higher. She couldn’t tell if it was – or not significantly anyway, but equally it wasn’t receding either. And it was still raining so Susie wondered if the ground could absorb any more water at all, or if any falling higher up was going to run straight off the Downs and exacerbate things. However, if any good was coming out of this horrid situation it was that the girls were being absolute stars; both of them really grafting without any sort of complaint at all. And then she was too busy to keep monitoring the water and concentrated on lugging everything portable upstairs. By the time they’d finished several hours had passed and they were exhausted. The three of them knelt on the sofa – one of the things they couldn’t manoeuvre up the stairs, even though they’d tried – and leaned on the back of it to peer out of the window.

‘I’m sure it’s higher,’ said Katie.

‘I think so too,’ said Ella.

Susie thought it was
a lot
higher – several feet nearer the house – but she didn’t voice her thoughts; she didn’t want to worry the girls unduly. In fact, she reckoned the water only had to rise by another few inches and it might come over the doorstep – or worse, up the drains. ‘Maybe just a smidge,’ she lied. ‘Now, I think we could all do with some breakfast.’ As she got off the sofa the lights went out.

The three looked at each other.

‘That’s breakfast stuffed, then,’ said Susie.

Susie heard her phone trill. Eagerly, she grabbed it. Mike, at last.

‘Hi, Mike,’ she said. ‘I need advice.’

‘About? I’m really busy here, Suse, can’t it wait?’

‘No. I think the house may be about to get flooded and the power’s just gone off. The girls and I have managed to move what we can upstairs but if the water comes in I really don’t want to be trapped here. I need to know if the road from here to Warminster is passable. If it is, I want to take the girls to Maddy’s.’

There was a pause as Mike took in what his wife had told him. ‘The roads between you and Maddy’s are OK as far as I know, as long as you avoid the Bavant valley. How bad is the stream with you?’

‘Almost up to the doorstep.’

‘You’d be better staying put.’

‘I’ll only go if I’m sure we can make it. But I don’t fancy camping upstairs with no heating or hot food. And for how long?’

‘No, I see your point. Look, I’ve got to go but don’t do anything rash. Promise me. Don’t take any risks. It isn’t worth it to avoid being cold and hungry for a day or so if the worst comes to the worst.’

‘No, I understand. I promise to be sensible. Love you.’

‘Love you too.’

As Susie severed the connection she wondered why they’d both felt the need to say those last words. She gave herself a shake – they were not ‘last words’. She was being a drama queen even thinking like that.

‘What do you reckon, girls? Is it time to ask Maddy if she’ll have us?’ The pair nodded, gravely. ‘Then, grab what you need for a couple of nights, plus your uniforms, school stuff... I’ll give her a bell. Oh, and pack your kit in backpacks. We can’t carry suitcases to the car, not in these conditions.’

‘Mum,’ said Katie. ‘I know things aren’t good but can El and I have our phones back? Please?’

Suddenly, in the scheme of things, the girls’ recent behaviour seemed pretty minor in comparison. ‘I suppose,’ said Susie. ‘But don’t think that the matter of you and Ella smoking won’t be addressed when things get back to normal.’ If things got back to normal...

The girls scampered upstairs to pack as Susie rang Maddy. She explained the situation.

‘And now the power’s gone.’

‘Susie, that’s awful. Of
course
, you can come round. Do you want to bring anything from your freezer?’

Susie gave a hollow laugh. ‘Maddy, I’d love to but I think it’s going to be tricky enough getting me, the girls and the clothes we stand up in, across that wretched stream to the car without lugging frozen food too. No, kind offer, Mads, but it’ll just have to be a part of the insurance claim if the worst comes to the worst.’

‘OK. But promise me you’ll go carefully and I’ll see you in a while.’

As soon as Susie ended the call she went to grab a few essentials for herself and get the girls phones out of their hiding place. She looked at their iPads and considered relenting about those too. Maybe, given how much of a terrific help the girls had been she ought to. No, she decided: phones, yes; iPads, no. Five minutes later the three of them were huddling in the rain on the doorstep wondering how best they could get to the car without endangering themselves.

Katie glanced up the road. ‘I wonder if Ali’s family is OK,’ she said.

‘I’m sure they are,’ said Susie briskly. ‘Besides, I’ve got enough worries of my own without wondering how other people are coping. Now, come on.’

As Susie was working out how to get to her car without getting anything other than her feet wet, Seb was knee-deep by the bridge at Lower Bavant, not far from the pub where his wife and Luke had had lunch the previous day, only now the pub was a foot underwater and the road that led to it was all but impassable; the situation was likely to be made worse because of a large tree branch which had been swept downstream and which had fetched up in the middle of the old three-arch bridge that crossed the river at this point. Seb could feel the tug of the water as it swirled past his legs and every step had to be taken with extreme care. One slip and he could easily be swept away, but he put that thought from his mind as he leaned forward, one hand hanging on to the stonework of the bridge while, with his free hand, he tried to grab the wedged branch. The last thing the Bavant needed was a blockage and for the water to back up more than it was. Sludge-coloured water, which had the consistency of soup, raged under the shoulder-high arches and swirled violently past the old stone supports. With every minute more vegetation, more rubbish, carried by the flood, caught in the branch: plastic fertiliser sacks, carrier bags, cardboard, a milk crate were all festooned in the twigs like some hellish Christmas decorations but together they made the water jam the branch even more firmly under the bridge.

Seb became aware of another sound although it was almost drowned out by the eardrum-battering roar of the river. He reckoned his hearing had been subjected to quieter jet engines than this racket. However, he was concentrating hard on reaching the branch and he couldn’t afford distractions. He didn’t dare go further into the river; the force of the water was already almost enough to sweep him off his feet – another inch or two deeper and he was pretty certain the flow would be too strong for him to keep his balance. Clutching the parapet even tighter he leaned further, as far as he could without overbalancing, stretching, but still his fingers, cold and numb, couldn’t grasp the branch properly. He managed to touch a twig and gripped it but as he yanked on it, it broke. Bugger.