Crumpet trots after me, her little feet patting against the tile. I blearily go to the sink to make up a bottle, squinting automatically out of the window. It’s dark as pitch outside, as if someone’s pasted sheets of black paper against the panes. I can hear the horrific roar of the wind and the raindrops slamming against the glass.
As I peer through the darkness, there’s another flash of lightning which illuminates the landscape. Every muscle in my body freezes.
There’s a gaping black hole in the roof of the lambing barn.
In half a second, the world goes black again, and I stand there locked in place. I’m breathing hard, panic drenching through me.
No. No. There’s no way. Surely I imagined it. I’m still half asleep.
Crumpetbaas again, more insistently this time. I wait. A lifetime later, there’s another crack of lightning, and I stare in horror at the barn as it’s lit up in horrific black and white.
The front of the roof is gone. It’s caved in. The roof has caved in.
I’m moving before I know it, running to the front door. Crumpet scampers along at my feet,baaing loudly as I shove my feet into my boots, fingers fumbling at the light switch. Another roll of thunder. The windows all shudder again. What the hell have I done?
“Alec?” I turn to see Summer sitting up on the sofa. “What’s wrong?” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes.
“The barn’s been damaged,” I tell her. “A tree must have fallen and hit the roof.”
She’s immediately awake. “What?”
I grab a lamp and pull open the front door. I’m instantaneously blasted with a sheet of icy raindrops. The wind screams like an enraged banshee, sending all the curtains in the cabin fluttering and the furniture rattling.
“Stay here,” I order Summer. “Lock Scout in the bathroom; if he realises what’s happening, he’ll try and come out to help?—”
She slides off the sofa. “What? But it’s pitch-black out. And you said the weather?—”
“Stay,” I snap. Then I step out into the blustery night and slam the door shut behind me. I stab the button on my lamp, but the weak light it throws is immediately swallowed by the darkness. I can only see a foot in front of me, my eyes blurring with stinging raindrops.
It doesn’t matter. Bowing my head into the wind, I start my trek towards the lambing shed, blindly letting my feet guide the way. The wind rips at my coat, slamming into me so hard I stagger back every few steps. Over its screaming howl, I can faintly hear sheep—the high, distressed sound of the ewes and their lambs crying in the barn. God. Are they hurt? Are anydead?
I squeeze my eyes shut, ploughing forwards. I have to get to them.
You stupid boy,my father’s voice snarls in my head.
He’s right. This is all my fault.
SIXTY-THREE
SUMMER
After Alec leaves, I herd Scout into the loo and then pace up and down the lounge. Five minutes pass. Ten. The farmhouse rattles and shakes around me.
I don’t know what to do. Is Alec coming back? Does he need help? Is he trying to fix the roof? Surely he’s not getting on a ladder in a storm, right?
The wind screams. Thunder booms. I try calling Fraser and Cameron to ask what to do, but I can’t get signal. Crumpet trots in my path as I pace,baaing anxiously. I look outside at all of the black and cold, feeling totally, utterly useless. If I tried to help, would I just get in the way?
Another fork of lightning shatters the sky, and Crumpet bleats, running headfirst into the sofa. Resolution hardens in me. No. I’m not going to sit around and let Alec handle this alone. He asked me to be his girlfriend, and that means he’s getting my help.
I grab one of Cameron’s heavy weatherproof coats from the hook by the front door, shove my feet in some boots, and grab a torch. Bracing myself, I head out into the storm.
It’s horrible outside. The sky is tumbling down, the rain physically painful as it pelts me. It soaks through my coat in aninstant, sinking into my bones. Even in the beam of torchlight, I can barely see where I’m going as I stumble towards the barn. I focus on my breathing. On taking one step at a time. My foot slips on something. I shout as I fall flat on my face in the mud, pain slamming through my body, but there’s no one to hear me. I just sit there for a moment, crushed under the heavy weight of the rain, my whole body going numb.
For the first time since I got to Lochview, I miss London. I miss dehumidifiers and temperature-controlled rooms and heated bathroom tile. I want to be warm.
Silver lightning slices the sky. I grimace as I pull myself upright, sludge dripping down my face and hands. I hate this. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. But I keep going through the darkness.
When I finally make it to the lambing barn, it’s clear what’s happened. The tree nearest the barn has been hewn in half. One side is still standing, while the other has been felled over the barn’s roof. The acrid smell of smoke fills the air, and the trunk is glowing orange in the darkness, sizzling as rain hits it. It must have been struck by lightning.
