Page 18 of Worse Than Murder (DCI Matilda Darke Thriller #13)

‘Shit,’ Alison swears, as the seat belt pulls her back. ‘That was close.’

‘Too close,’ Claire says, paling at the near miss, hands immediately going to protect her baby.

They both carefully climb out of the car, struggling against the elements.

They can’t put signs up to warn other road users as they’ll just blow away.

Hopefully, anyone brave, or stupid, enough to be out in weather like this will notice the flashing lights on the police car and slow down before they reach the bend.

‘Who’s coming to clear the tree away?’ Claire shouts. ‘We need to get access to the school if any of the houses in the lower half of the village need evacuating.’

‘I don’t know,’ Alison screams back. ‘Inspector Forsyth just said someone was on their way.’

‘We can’t…’

Claire stops as the sound of the flood siren begins.

It’s an eerie noise that chills the blood, reminiscent of the air raid sirens from the Second World War.

The sirens are manually controlled from an incident room by trained duty officers who use forecasting information to decide whether the whole area needs to be informed of a possible impending natural disaster.

Alison and Claire freeze to the spot. The siren can only mean one thing: evacuations are about to begin.

* * *

‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ I say.

We’re all in the living room above the restaurant, watching the storm batter Lake Windermere and the surrounding countryside. The internet has cut off and the lights are flickering. Candles are on standby. We were all sitting in relative silence when the siren broke out.

‘You’d think they’d come up with a different siren,’ Sally says. ‘You hear that, and you think we’re at war.’

‘It’s the sound everyone knows means impending danger,’ Philip says.

‘I’ve never heard it before, not outside of a war film,’ I say. It sounds different from hearing it on TV. It genuinely does send a chill down the spine.

‘They did a practice run last year,’ Sally says. She has to raise her voice over the sound of the storm. ‘Scared the life out of me and it was only a rehearsal.’

Philip moves up on the sofa next to her and wraps his arms around her shoulder, pulling her tight. I love how close this couple still is after everything they’ve been through.

Carl is sitting on the floor in front of the fire with both dogs. He’s looking out of the window, watching the rain and flying debris lash against the glass.

‘Are we—?’ My question is interrupted by a loud crack of thunder that sounds as if the world is being torn apart.

I stand up and go over to the window. Lightning lights up the black sky as daggers of brilliant electric blue fork above the lake.

It’s an unsettling, yet beautiful, sight to witness.

Triple-glazed glass is all that separates me from the onslaught of the storm.

A masochistic part of me wishes I was out in this, to feel the full force of nature’s wrath wrap around me.

I’ve never heard thunder so loud. I place my hand flat against the glass and feel it vibrate with every rumble.

A flash of lightning hits a tree on the side of the lake. An orange finger of fire runs down its trunk and the tree almost explodes as it’s torn in half.

‘Jesus Christ!’ I recoil.

Carl jumps up from the floor and runs over to the sofa to be with his parents. Both dogs bark at the thunder.

The wind intensifies and trees are almost bent double.

Huge branches are torn from trunks, picked up and tossed around, landing with a splash in the lake.

Another is thrown up and hits the window just beside where I’m standing.

I jump back as if I’ve been hit. Behind me, Sally and Carl scream and the dogs are cowering behind the sofa.

I look at the glass where the branch hit and see a small crack.

This is no longer a chance to marvel at the destruction of nature. I’m standing in the path of violence, and I hate to say this but it feels amazing.

* * *

Lynne had been watching the live camera feed on her tablet since Iain left. When the power went out and the internet failed, she couldn’t see him anymore. The last she saw of him was as he battled with the elements and struggled to repair the roof of the empty stable at the end of the block.

She goes around the living room lighting candles and turning on lantern torches.

The fire is lit in the corner of the room, so she’s able to keep warm, and the room looks cosy in the dim light, but outside, the storm is raging.

She’s never heard such a terrifying sound before in her life.

Even the storm of ’92 wasn’t as bad as this.

She goes over to the window and pulls back the curtains. Trees are down in the middle of the road; rain is pouring down in sheets. Debris litters the ground, and a fence panel has smashed through the windscreen of Kitty Routledge’s Volvo across the road.

Lynne’s scared. She hates bad weather, storms in particular, for obvious reasons. She hates the fact she’s alone. She hates that Iain is out in this and she’s powerless to help. She hasn’t heard from Alison since lunchtime. Where is she right now?

She grabs her phone from the coffee table and rings her daughter. It rings out until the voicemail kicks in. She wasn’t planning on leaving a message but suddenly thinks that, if Alison sees a missed call from her mother, she’ll likely panic and think something’s happened.

‘Alison, it’s me,’ Lynne begins. She’s trying, but failing, to sound calm. ‘I just want to make sure you’re all right. I’m guessing you’re very busy right now, but give me a call when you can. It’ll be?—’

Lynne screams and drops her phone as a tree comes crashing through her living room window.

* * *

Sally and Philip have taken Carl and the two dogs into Carl’s bedroom at the rear of the building.

It’s sheltered by the woods and hopefully muffles the sound and danger of the storm.

I remain in the living room, transfixed by the raging tempest. It’s difficult to imagine that less than a day ago I was running in the midst of a heatwave beneath the brilliant blue sky.

Now, that sky is angry and is unleashing hell upon the earth.

The destructiveness inside of me is on the side of Mother Nature.

Tear this planet apart. We’re destroying it anyway, as well as each other.

Another tree falls and crashes onto the concrete car park.

Fortunately, it’s free of vehicles. The lights go out, plunging the room into darkness.

I pick up a storm lamp from the windowsill and turn it on.

I see myself reflected in the black mirror of the window.

A flash of lightning lights up the scene.

It hits a tree beside the lake which falls against another with such force they are both uprooted and fall into the water.

I’ve seen storms before, but nothing of this magnitude.

It’s electrifying and, after all these years of wondering why gawkers stand on the outskirts of a crime scene, I now know how they feel.

Witnessing something dark and destructive is additive.

Around me is total chaos, but I’ve never felt more alive as I watch the dance of a broken power cable spitting out blue sparks.

I leave the living room and go out into the hallway.

Everything in my head is screaming at me to remain indoors, but I defy all logic.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears.

I throw open the front door and step out into the wildness of nature.