The Fleethaven Trilogy (108 page)

‘Here you are. Put these on. There was an old pair on
the rack. They’re dry.’

The boots were too big and chafed the back of her
knees if she tried to bend her legs, but Ella made no
complaint. Holding hands, they waded through the house
to the back door and peered out. The black water rose and
fell but there were no longer huge, swollen waves gushing
towards them. Above the noise of the wind, they could
hear the frightened cows lowing piteously from the
cowshed.

‘Poor beggars!’ her grandmother muttered. ‘Still, it
shouldn’t be too deep in there. I think the brick floor’s
built up a bit higher. It’s the pigs I’m bothered about.
Lady, and the two gilts.’

Ella said, ‘Lady?’

‘The sow,’ Esther said and added, ‘Well, Missy, are ya
ready?’

Clenching her teeth together to stop them chattering,
Ella said, ‘Yes, Gran.’

Holding on to each other they waded out into the yard.
The wind plucked at them and the sea swirled around
them, threatening to bowl them over and plunge them
beneath the black surface. The water slapped over the top
of Ella’s boots and ran, like ice, down her legs.

‘Hang on to me, Missy. Dun’t let go, whatever ya do,’
her grandmother shouted above the noise of the wind. Ella
made no reply, concentrating on keeping her balance,
dreadfully afraid of falling down.

They reached the sty and Esther pulled open the top
half of the stable-type door. ‘Can you see ’em?’

The girl peered into the gloom. ‘No – I – oh, there’s
something floating . . .’

‘Oh, damn it!’ her grandmother muttered. ‘We’re too
late.’

Then out of the darkness came a snuffling grunt, and
the water splashed against the door. ‘It’s Lady,’ Esther said
joyfully. She unlatched the door and dragged it open,
stretching out her hands in the darkness to feel the bristly
back of the huge sow. ‘Come on, old girl. Grab hold of her
ear, Ella, and let’s take her back to the house.’

‘The – the house?’

‘I can’t leave her out here. If the water comes any
higher, she’ll drown too. It’s only ’cos she’s such a big
pig . . .’

The animal was struggling to escape, but Ella grasped
her ear and keeping her between them, they shuffled back
towards the house, the pig grunting and squealing in
protest.

They pushed her in through the back door.

Taking a moment’s respite, Esther looked down at the
pig standing in the middle of her kitchen, grunting gently,
the water up to its belly. ‘Well, I never thought I’d be
trying to get a pig up me stairs, but that’s where she’ll have
to go, into the little bedroom.’

‘In my room? With me?’ Ella was wide-eyed.

‘Why ever not?’ Then her grandmother chuckled at the
sight of Ella’s mortified face. ‘I’m only teasing you, Missy.
You bring ya things out of there and snuggle in with
Grandma Eland. It’ll be warmer for you in the big bedroom
anyway.’

Ella, suddenly sober again, said, ‘Gran, what do you
think will have happened to Mum?’

Gently, Esther said, ‘Ya grandpa thinks she’ll have
stayed in the town – in Lynthorpe – that she’ll be quite
safe.’

‘But what if the town’s flooded too?’ the girl asked.

‘Oh, there’ll be no floods there, Missy,’ her grandmother
said confidently. ‘It’ll only be us got a surge come up the
river ’cos of the high tides at this time of the year and with
the wind to drive it . . .’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Course I am. Ya Grandpa ses so.’

Comforted now by the confidence in her grandmother’s
voice and trusting her grandpa’s knowledge, she tried to
bury the worry about her mother and concentrate on
heaving and pushing the huge pink sow up the staircase of
Brumbys’ Farm.

What Ella did not, at that moment, know – what none
of them knew – was that, far from being the only place
affected by the floods, Fleethaven Point had in fact suffered
very little in comparison with the tragedy the long night
was bringing to others. Unknown to the small community
at the Point, struggling in the stormy night with their own
problems, all down the east coast of Lincolnshire, and even
further south, the sea had ravaged the land in the worst
flooding within living memory. A north-westerly gale, with
gusts approaching hurricane proportions, had swelled the
southward flow of the flood tide down the east coast;
crashing through promenades, bearing aloft huge tons of
concrete like bits of flotsam; ripping gaps hundreds of
yards long through the sea defences; tearing aside the
dunes, dredging up tons of sand and spewing it into towns
and villages; flinging chalets and caravans into heaps of
splintered matchwood; rending whole roofs from bungalows
and floating them away; rushing into homes, engulfing
families caught unawares; without warning and
without mercy.

And somewhere, out there, was Kate Hilton.

‘Gran, there’s a boat coming. Someone’s coming in a boat.’

She rushed downstairs, praying fervently to herself as
she went. ‘Oh, let it be Mum. Oh, please let it be Mum!’

Snuggled up to the comforting bulk of Grandma Eland
during the night, Ella had slept fitfully, waking every so
often from a nightmare of crashing waves battering against
the house. Each time, she lay listening to Grandma Eland’s
gentle snoring beside her, while outside the storm still
raged. Once she tiptoed out on to the landing to peer down
the stairs, irrationally afraid that the water might be rising
steadily to engulf them all. Sometimes when she woke,
Grandma Eland was awake too and they whispered
together.

‘Do you think Mum’s all right?’ she asked, more than
once, in the darkness.

The fat arms came around her, hugging her close.
‘Course she will be. She’ll’ve taken the car back to our
Danny and be safely at Rookery Farm. You’ll see.’

They were all trying to reassure her; but were they sure
themselves or just saying it to calm her fears? And their
own.

In cold light of dawn, that first grey lightening of the
darkness, Ella had woken to the sound of snuffling and
grunting from the other side of the door into the small
bedroom, and the place beside her in the bed, though
rumpled, was empty. She swung her legs to the floor and,
barefoot, padded to the window. Drawing back the curtains
she looked out on to a grey lake. There were no
surging waves now. The wind, still strong though no longer
gale-force, merely rippled the surface of the water. She
could see now that the floodwater extended to a line just
beyond the far bank of the river; beyond that, she could
see the brown earth of the fields. She pressed her face to
the window trying to see Rookery Farm and though she
could see the buildings she could not be sure from this
distance whether the water had reached the farm or not.

She dressed hurriedly, shivering in the cold, finding her
thickest jumper and warmest socks. Then she went out
onto the landing. She knocked on the bedroom door
opposite and when there was no answer she pushed open
the door and peeped inside.

There was no one in the room.

A moment’s absurd fear swept through her that her
grandparents, and Grandma Eland, had gone in the night
and she was now entirely alone; marooned in an empty
house. She swallowed such a foolish thought.

She went into her grandparents’ room and went to the
window. Maybe she could see Rookery Farm from here . . .

It was then that she saw the boat.

On the step just above the water stood the pair of
rubber boots she had worn last night. Struggling into
them, ignoring the damp insides and holding up her skirt,
she stepped carefully down into the water, surprised at
the cold which penetrated even the thick rubber of the
boots. She could hear the splashing of water as someone
moved about. Slowly she waded out of the hall and into
the living room; then through that and stopped at the
kitchen door. ‘Gran?’ In the kitchen her grandmother and
Grandma Eland were lifting chairs out of the water and on
to the table.

‘You stay upstairs, Missy,’ her grandmother snapped. ‘I
dun’t want you getting soaking wet again. The range fire’s
out now and there’s no way I can relight it.’ Ella saw the
older woman cast an angry, resentful glance at the cold
fire-grate.

Ella ignored her grandmother’s scolding and said,
‘Gran, there’s someone coming in a boat.’

Esther looked at her. ‘Really?’ And she began to wade
towards the back door, with Grandma Eland close behind
her and Ella following, asking, ‘It’ll be Mum coming back.
I’m sure it’s Mum coming. Where’s Grandpa? Is he all
right this morning?’

Esther sniffed with disapproval. ‘Silly man. He’s got a
bit of a cough through getting chilled but he’s gone out
again to see to the cows.’

The three of them stood together in the murky sea water
at the open back door watching a little rowing boat being
manoeuvred from the lane, or at least where the lane
should be, through the farmyard gate and towards the
back door of the house.

‘It’s Uncle Danny and Rob.’ Ella’s sharp eyes recognized
them first. ‘But – but I can’t see Mum. Maybe she’s
stopped at Rookery Farm and they’ve come to take me to
her . . .’

At that moment Jonathan emerged from the cowshed.
Hitching his thigh boots up as far as he could, he began to
wade towards the boat. He shouted a greeting. ‘Morning,
Harbour Master, what time’s the tide go out?’

They heard Danny’s laughter drifting towards them.
‘Glad you can joke about it.’ And as the boat floated
closer, he called, ‘You all right, Missus, and the young
’un?’

‘As well as can be expected,’ Esther replied tartly, but
she was smiling even if a little wryly. Danny pulled in the
oars and he and Rob sat in the boat as it floated near the
back door.

‘What about you, Mam?’

Grandma Eland’s face beamed. ‘If it hadn’t been for
that man there,’ she nodded towards Jonathan, ‘I wouldn’t
be standing here at all.’

‘How’s things with you, Danny?’ Jonathan asked,
swiftly turning the attention away from himself, but Ella
noticed that his voice was still husky and his breathing
difficult.

‘We’re okay. The surge came in over the headland and
up the river and that’s why you’ve got it. It was too
sudden, too fast for the river to cope with the volume. It’s
come into our yard, but not into the house. So, we’ve come
to fetch all of you to Rookery Farm,’ he said, his glance
going from one to the other.

Without waiting for her husband’s opinion, Esther said
sharply, ‘I aren’t leaving me farm and no one’s going to
make me.’

‘Now, wait a minute, Esther—’ Jonathan began, but she
rounded on him. ‘I’m not going and that’s flat!’

‘Well, what about Ella, then?’

Esther did not answer Danny’s question, but instead
asked, ‘Is Kate with you? Is she back?’

The colour drained from Danny’s face and his mouth
gagged open. ‘Kate?’ he said hoarsely. ‘Isn’t she here? With
you?’

Esther shook her head.

Fear shot through Ella like a knife and her knees began
to tremble, but she could say nothing, ask nothing. She just
stared and stared at Danny.

‘I thought—’ he was stumbling over the words. ‘When
she didn’t bring the car back I thought – I thought she
must have come straight home and – and that she’d bring
it back next day . . .’

‘She’ll be in Lynthorpe. She’ll be in the town,’ Jonathan
said and, trying to raise their hopes, added, ‘She’s probably
the lucky one, keeping her feet dry.’

But in Danny’s eyes there was no laughter. ‘She – she
went up the coast, didn’t she?’

In the boat, Rob, solemn and white-faced, sat beside his
father. Ella began to cry, not caring now who saw her.

Her gaze never leaving Danny’s face, Esther said quietly,
‘There’s more, isn’t there, Danny? Come on, out with it.’

It was then that Danny began to tell them of the awful
news bulletins that were coming over the wireless.

‘This . . .’ he waved his hand to encompass the floodwater
all around, ‘this is nothing compared to what’s
happened further north. We heard the news on our portable
this morning. The whole of the Lincolnshire coast
and, I think, Norfolk and Kent coastlines too, are devastated
by flooding. The sea’s gone as far as two miles inland
in some parts and this morning’s high tide’s been nearly as
bad. We’ve just been up to the Hump and stood on the
top . . .’ He glanced at Rob, sitting in the boat beside him.
But the boy was pale, his eyes large and stricken. ‘I’ve
never seen rollers like it out to sea. I felt sea-sick just
looking at ’em. Forty foot high, I reckon they must be.’

Esther gasped, ‘You mean we’re goin’ to get more?’

Danny shook his head. ‘Not here, I don’t reckon. At
least, no more than you’ve got now, but maybe that’s why
the water’s not going down at all yet. It’s still coming in.’

‘What about the cottages at the Point?’ Jonathan asked.

‘Still standing – just – but it’s a good job they all got
out when they did, else . . .’ Danny cleared his throat and
said instead, ‘But the pub’s gone altogether now.’

Ella remembered Rob pointing out the crumbling ruins
of a building that had been bombed in the war. His
grandad Eland had been killed there, he’d said. Ella
shuddered suddenly. And last night, his grandma Eland
might have been drowned in her home if Grandpa Godfrey
hadn’t rescued her.

But where was her mum? Had anybody been there to
rescue her?

Noticing Ella shiver, Esther said, ‘Go on in, child.
There’s no need for you . . .’

‘No,’ the girl said. ‘I’ve got to hear it.’ Then realizing
her tone had been brusque, almost rude, she looked up
swiftly at her grandmother, adding softly so that only
Esther, and not the others, should hear. ‘Please, Gran. I
must
!’

Their attention was drawn back to Danny as, haltingly,
he was saying the words they most dreaded to hear.
‘There’s – there’s been people drowned in some places . . .’