Florrie couldn’t help but giggle. Her parents put her in mind of a double act when they were having a good-natured bicker like this.
‘Anyroad, I’ve just got off the phone to Bear, and he’s offered to rig up the generator for us. With them having one at the farm, he knows how to set them up. Says he’ll stop off at yours and collect you, Ed and Gerty first, then come here, rig up the generator, then head back to Clifftop Farm with Ed. Maggie says Ed can have his tea with them. And you might as well have yours with us, flower.’
‘Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out, Mum.’
‘I just wish I could fix the weather for you.’
‘Yeah, looking at the forecast, so do I.’
When the call had ended, Florrie relayed the conversation to Ed. While they were talking, his phone had started ringing with a call from Bear. Between them, they arranged that he’d collect them in half an hour.
With their stuff gathered together, the couple stood in the candlelight of the kitchen, shadows flickering around the room.
‘The next time we come into this room you’ll be Mrs Florrie Harte.’ Ed smiled, stooping to kiss her.
Florrie’s heart skipped a beat. ‘I like the sound of that.’ She pushed her hands inside his padded jacket and reached her arms around his waist, tilting her head to look up at him.
‘Me too.’ He bent to kiss her when there was a loud knock at the door, causing Gerty to leap from her bed barking like she was some highly trained guard dog.
‘This is it, then.’ Ed smiled. ‘I’d better take thisopportunity to give you a proper goodnight kiss since I doubt I’ll get the chance at your parents’ house.’
‘Much as I hate to say it, can you be quick? Poor Bear’ll be getting soaked on the doorstep.’
‘Good point.’ He grinned before pressing his lips against hers and making her knees turn to jelly.
THIRTY-SIX
SATURDAY 2ND MAY – THE DAY OF THE WEDDING
Florrie had barely slept a wink all night, the knot of nerves in her stomach apparently determined to keep her awake with all their twisting and turning, in cahoots with Storm Maida who’d raged on, letting vent to her fury.
It was still dark outside as Florrie pushed her duvet back and tiptoed over to the window of her childhood bedroom, disappointed to see the rain showed no sign of abating and that the streetlights were off, the electricity still not restored. She flopped back down on the bed and picked up her phone, checking the time and to see if she’d heard from Ed – though she wasn’t sure on the etiquette, or superstition of bride and groom communication on the morning of the wedding before they got to the place they were to be married. Not that she wanted to tempt fate, especially with the rocky road they’d had to get to this day over the last few weeks. It was still early, not even six a.m. and, much as she felt restless, she knew there was nothing she could do right now but sit and wait until she heard her parents moving about.
With a restless sigh, she reached for her Kindle, hoping to lose herself in the virtual pages of her latest book.
She’d only been reading for a couple of minutes when she was startled to hear the tinkling ring of her mobile phone. She snatchedit up to see the landlady from the Jolly’s number illuminated on the screen. Florrie’s heart swooped; a call from Mandy at this hour wasn’t going to be good news, especially since the Jolly was where she and Ed were having their wedding reception.
She swiped to accept the call. ‘Hi, Mandy, is everything okay?’ Her heart was thumping, her stomach churning as she registered the sound of sloshing water in the background.
‘Florrie, I’m so sorry for calling this early, I didn’t know what else to do and I don’t know how to tell you this, but the pub’s flooded and?—’
‘Flooded? Oh no!’ Florrie didn’t need Mandy to tell her anything else; the implications were clear as day.
‘You wouldn’t believe it down here. A combination of the storm and the high spring tide has meant the sea levels are ridiculous – we’re wading through about two and a half feet of seawater; can barely see what we’re doing.’ Mandy’s words were coming out in a torrent, stress evident in her voice. ‘The bottom prom’s flooded, too, water’s reached some of the houses in Old Micklewick. No one’s getting down here any time soon. I’m so sorry, love.’
Florrie’s mind shot to Lark whose cottage wasn’t far from the Jolly, hoping it hadn’t reached Mariners Row. ‘It’s not your fault, Mandy. I’m sorry to hear you’re having to deal with all of that. It must be a nightmare.’
A weary sigh travelled down the phone. ‘You have no idea. As fast as we sluice it out, it flows straight back in. There’s just no stopping it.’
‘Sounds awful. Is there anything we can do to help?’ Florrie’s heart went out to her.
‘Thanks for the offer, but all we can do is wait for the tide to go out and the rain to ease up. Hopefully we should see a difference in the next hour or so. Mind, even when that happens, everything’s too saturated for you to have your reception here. We’re going to have to get some industrial dryers in, change the carpets and the covers on the seats. And then there’s the electrics to consider… It’ll be too dangerous. Again, I’m so sorry.’
‘Hey, it’s not your fault. Thanks for letting me know, Mandy. I hope you get sorted soon.’
‘You too, love.’
Florrie had just ended the call, her mind racing, when there was a tap at her bedroom door and her mum’s head appeared. ‘You okay, lovey?’ From the concerned tone of her voice, Florrie guessed her mum had caught the gist of her conversation with Mandy.
