The wind had come up today and thick black clouds, heavy with rain, banked up in the sky. It looked like it could be a rough night. Tamsyn didn’t mind a storm, it was always good for blowing away the cobwebs, but this would be the first time she’d weathered one on her own.
“Prrrp!” Okay, so not completely on her own, she smiled to herself, bending down to stroke Lucy, who wound around and around her legs.
“It’s just you and me tonight, Luce,” she said before straightening and looking outside.
She’d have to try to round up the chickens into their coop if the weather kept deteriorating. She didn’t look forward to the experience but figured with some chicken feed she should be able to tempt them into safety.
After her meal, she did just that, finally settling the last of the birds just as the first big fat drop of rain hurtled from the sky and hit her smack in the forehead. As if it had given carte blanche to the clouds to simply open up, the drops increased until the rain was bucketing down. Tamsyn raced to the house, struggling as the back door was almost torn from her grip by a particularly vicious gust of wind.
She got inside and slammed the door closed. Locking it behind her for good measure. It had only taken seconds but she was drenched to the skin. A long soak in a warm bath with a good book was just what she needed. Lucy curled up on the bath mat beside her as she lit the last candle in the bathroom, shed her wet and now-cold clothing and tested the temperature of the water.
“Perfect.” She sighed as she sank into the enveloping warmth and reached for the glass of chardonnay she’d poured to enjoy with her book.
The lights overhead flickered, then brightened.
“Uh-oh,” she said to the cat, who appeared unperturbed by the glitch in the electricity. “That doesn’t look promising.”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than another massive gust of wind hit the house, causing the lights to flicker again before going out, this time completely. Tamsyn sat upright in the water and waited for them to come back on, but she waited in vain. Deciding she could do nothing about it for now, she dropped her book on the floor next to the bath and sank back in the water. At least she had light, thanks to the candles she’d lit earlier. As for the blackout, well, it would be a good excuse to have an early night.
Her sleep was fractured, punctuated by the crash and boom of thunder as the storm built through the night. Even ducking under the covers and pulling them up over her head did little to block the noise. The time gap between flashes of lightning and the explosive rumbles that followed got shorter and shorter until they seemed to land one on top of the other.
What a night for Finn to pick to be away, Tamsyn thought as she fought the rising fear that clawed at her throat. Even Lucy had deserted the top of the bed and was, Tamsyn suspected, cowering under it instead. She wished there was room enough under there to join her.
Bang! Cr-a-ck! Tamsyn jumped out of her skin. That was too close for comfort, the report sounding as if it was right on top of the house. Should she find a coat and check for damage? Another flash of lightning, followed a few seconds later by an almighty clap of thunder, warned her of the stupidity of that idea. She burrowed back under the covers, pulling her pillow over her ears for good measure. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
Morning dawned, as it so often does after a storm, with a fresh new promise of a beautiful day. Thankfully, at some time during the early hours, the power had been restored. Tamsyn was bleary eyed as she drank her morning coffee and waited for the caffeine to hit her bloodstream. Once she’d finished, she’d borrow a pair of rubber boots from the laundry and inspect outside. Even here from the kitchen window she could see there was some damage from the storm. Plant debris scattered through the vegetable garden and she could see she’d have to tie up the tomatoes again.
Coffee finished, she found the boots and clumped outside. The back of the house didn’t look too bad, she thought, gathering up the detritus of leaves and small branches into a wheelbarrow from the implements shed as she went. It wasn’t until she was close to the front that she saw the shattered window with a broken tree branch resting half in and half out of the room.
A Venetian blind swung drunkenly in the morning breeze, attached at only one end and, from the looks of it, bent and damaged beyond repair. This had to be the locked room, she thought as she moved closer. The owners wouldn’t be happy about this. She’d have to call the property manager and see if they could get someone out to repair the window and contact the owners about replacing the blind. In the meantime, she’d see if she could find something to board the broken window up.