‘I’ll get you some dry things.’ Izzy looked at Jim. ‘Not sure I’ve got anything your size.’
‘Don’t worry, love. Just get something for Jeanie.’ He reached out and kissed his wife on the forehead. ‘It’s okay, babe.’
‘No, it’s not. Everything’s gone. What are we going to do?’ Her voice rose in a distraught wail.
‘You can stay here tonight,’ said Izzy, her heart going out to them. They looked like a pair of bedraggled puppies and she was convinced more than ever that they couldn’t be any older than twenty, if that.
Half an hour later, with Jeanette wearing a pair of Izzy’s tracksuit bottoms, a sweat shirt and a pair of fluffy socks, and Jim wearing an old silk dressing gown of Great Uncle Bill’s and a big bath sheet wrapped around his lower half, the two of them were looking a little more human as they sat at the table with big mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of toast each.
‘Mmm, this is so good,’ said Jeanette, in between sips of her drink. ‘Thank you so much. We haven’t eaten since lunch time because we couldn’t get the camping gas stove lit. Jim was going to walk down to the village to get fish and chips but by then it was too wet and windy. We’ve been hanging on to the tent for hours hoping the storm would die away but then … those last gusts… Sorry, Jim, my hands were too cold.’ Throughout the recital of the litany of woes, Jim had held her hand enclosed in his much bigger one.
‘That sounds awful,’ said Izzy, picturing the two of them huddled in their tent. ‘There’s a spare bedroom made up, whenever you’re ready.’
‘It’s so good of you,’ said Jim for the thousandth time, his hand rubbing Jeanette’s back in reassurance but with a slightly downcast expression on his face, as if he’d let her down. ‘Sorry to wake you.’
Izzy smiled. ‘I was up anyway.’ She explained the roof situation.
‘I could take a look at it in the morning if you like. I bet there’s access from the battlements.’
‘That would be great. Thank you.’ She realised his pride meant he needed to be able to do something to help and to repay her for her kindness.
While they drank their hot drinks, Izzy put a clothes airer in front of the Rayburn.
‘You can dry the damp things from your rucksacks on here.’ She’d already scooped up the rain-soaked and mud-splashed clothes that they’d been wearing and they were now in the washing machine in the scullery.
‘Can I get you anything else?’ she asked.
‘No, you’ve been so kind. We really appreciate it,’ said Jeanette.
What else would anyone have done? No one could have turned them away. Izzy was just grateful that she had the room to put them up. She showed them to a bedroom on the first floor and left them to it before trotting up to the attic to see how the water was going. The water coming through had slowed slightly but the bulge looked near bursting point. Eying it anxiously, she decided to empty the tin bath again now and then come back first thing to check on the leak.
When she finally collapsed back into bed, she was extremely grateful that Ross had said he’d take the six o’clock shift. So much for thinking she’d have a quiet life in the country.
‘Wakey, wakey. I’ve brought you a cup of tea.’ Her mother’s voice sounded horribly loud.
Izzy lifted her head and then threw it back against her pillow. It felt as if she’d only just gone to sleep.
‘Did you know there are some strange people sleeping in the tartan room?’ Indignation was clear in her voice.
‘Mmm,’ mumbled Izzy, trying to open her eyes and failing.
‘Where did they come from? I went in there this morning and got such a fright.’
‘What time is it?’ Izzy groaned, peering at Xanthe.
‘It’s half past seven. I was up so I thought I’d make you a nice cup of tea.’
Her mother never made her a cup of tea in the mornings let alone brought it up to her bedside.
Xanthe put the tea down on the small table, switched on the lamp and perched like an expectant robin on the edge of Izzy’s bed.
‘Muuum. Been up … most … the night.’ It was an effort to get the words out. She felt shattered.
‘These people. Do you know them? How did they get there?’
‘Camping. By the loch.’
‘And you let them stay? We could all have been murdered in our beds.’
