A Fresh Start on Crumcarey (Crumcarey Island #5)

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

MAGGIE

I t was getting dark… not because it was particularly late, but because one of those mad, blustery storms was heading up from the highlands towards Crumcarey.

The clouds had been gathering all afternoon. Now they were hanging in the sky - dense and heavy - as Maggie wound her way home from her first day at The Tallyaff.

Pulling off the road, Maggie made the executive decision to ease the car as far as she could get it inside the little lean-to garage at the side of the cottage. There were no doors on it, and the back of the space was piled high with boxes and old furniture that had been broken during the house move. Still, at least the walls on either side would give her a bit of shelter. With any luck, she’d be able to climb out of the car without losing a door in the process.

The wind was really ramping up, and Maggie had heard all sorts of horror stories about unsuspecting drivers losing control of their car doors in a storm. One gust and they could bend right back… or worse, catch an unsuspecting hand or leg! She could really do without having to find the money for car repairs right now. As for Maggie repairs… well… at least a stay in the hospital would mean a break from the constant DIY and tarpaulin-wrangling.

Speaking of which, she should really take a moment to do the rounds and check the tarps were all in place and secure before the storm got any closer. It was something she did as a matter of course every evening – checking the ropes and re-tying anything that looked like it was coming loose. It usually took her about twenty minutes… but judging by the colour of the sky and the fact the wind was busy turning her heavy plait into a lethal weapon, she didn’t have time. She needed to hurry up and get inside!

‘How bad can it be?’ she sighed, glancing up at the roof and then instantly regretting her choice of words. It had been okay when she’d checked it the previous evening… or at least, as okay as it got. That didn’t mean anything though.

Either way, she was shattered after her first shift, and she just wanted to cook some food and put her feet up. She’d simply have to deal with any damage in the morning.

Yawning widely, Maggie made her way inside, turning on the lights as she went. They flickered a couple of times and she crossed her fingers that the trip switch wasn’t going to get up to its usual shenanigans this evening. Ever since Russell had decided to “improve” the electrics, they’d been tripping left, right and centre. It wasn’t really that surprising, considering there were still wires and dead ends dangling from the walls in every direction.

Russell had promised her that he’d left everything completely safe – safer than it had been to start with - but Maggie still made it a policy not to go near any of the dangling tangles of wire if she could help it. Sorting out the electrics was one of the many things on her to-do scroll – though she wasn’t daft enough to think she’d be able to take on this particular job herself.

‘Okay. We have light. Phew!’ she breathed as they mercifully stopped flickering.

Maggie grabbed her torch off the hall shelf on her way past anyway – just in case. She knew from bitter experience it was better to have it somewhere nearby than bashing around in the pitch-black cottage searching for it. That was a guaranteed recipe for stubbed toes and bruised elbows!

Kicking off her pumps as she made her way through the open plan living room into the kitchen, Maggie wished – not for the first time – that she had something a bit more cosy on the floor than patches of bare boards and concrete. A snuggly sheepskin rug wouldn’t go amiss right now. If someone had told her before she moved to Crumcarey that she’d have dreams about carpet that bordered on the erotic, she’d have laughed in their face.

Carpets…

Lino…

Shagpile!

‘Idiot!’ she chuckled, plonking her bag of groceries down onto the rickety bit of worktop next to the sink. Working at The Tallyaff was definitely going to have some perks – one of them being that she got first dibs on the fresh deliveries when they arrived.

Maggie had just started to unpack the bag of veg when a flapping growl from overhead made her flinch.

That didn’t sound good!

She’d bet anything that was one of the tarps shifting… or maybe even blowing loose!

Moving to glance out of the window, Maggie craned her neck and stared upwards. Sure enough, she could just make out a corner of tarpaulin flapping wildly in the wind. Beyond it, the sky had grown even darker. As she watched, huge splatters of rain dashed against the single remaining pane of glass.

Okay – so it had officially been an awful idea not to check everything over. There was no way she was going out there now, though. It would be dangerous to head outside with the wind ramping up like that. She’d just have to ride it out.

How bad could it be, after all?

‘Okay, stop saying – or thinking - that!’ she gasped, as another gust of wind shook the remaining roof slates.

‘Deep breath,’ she said, doing her best to keep calm. There wasn’t any point getting worked up. This was what the weather was like here on Crumcarey. It was temperamental, loud, and its bark was usually worse than its bite.

Giving herself a little shake, Maggie continued to unload her shopping. She might be tired, but she’d promised herself that she’d cook a decent meal for once. Sure, she’d made the promise back around lunchtime… before her feet had started throbbing from wearing the unaccustomed flat pumps. She was really going to have to invest in a pair of decent trainers. Working at The Tallyaff definitely counted as some kind of endurance sport!

‘Come on, Mags,’ she yawned, grabbing a chopping board and choosing one of the onions. ‘No tinned soup for you this evening!’

She had to admit, she’d been practically living off tinned food for months now. It was easy, quick and had the added bonus that it didn’t spoil if the roof leaked on it. It didn’t quite have the cosy, self-care vibe of a home-cooked meal though.

Maggie was just wiping away the first few tears from the decidedly pungent onion when the lights overhead started to flicker again.

‘Noo no no no!’ she gasped. ‘Stop it!’

As if by magic, the cottage seemed to be listening. Everything outside went still, and calm, and the lights behaved themselves as though nothing untoward had just happened.

‘That’s more like i—’

Maggie didn’t even get to the end of the sentence before she was plunged into darkness.

‘Aw crap,’ she muttered. ‘Perfect. Just perfect.’

All was not lost, though. She had her torch on the kitchen table. She’d use that to get the emergency candles lit. There was a two-ringed camping stove in the corner, and that ran on a little canister of gas. She’d have this curry if it was the last thing she did!

‘Torch…’ she muttered, feeling her way for the table and congratulating herself for bringing it through with her. She clicked the button, and the kitchen was briefly illuminated by the weak beam before it faded into nothingness.

‘Don’t you start!’ muttered Maggie, giving the torch a hearty shake and clicking the button several times. It came back on for all of two seconds and then died.

Now that she thought about it - she’d meant to buy some new batteries.

Maggie took a deep breath. It would be fine. She’d just make her way over to her little wood burner and get that going. That would give her enough of a glow to light the candles and then…

Boom! Crash!! Shreddddd! SNAP!!

Maggie flinched, almost dropping the useless torch as the wind made a comeback at triple-strength. She didn’t think she was imagining it – that had been something tearing from the roof – hadn’t it?

Ducking her head instinctively, Maggie made her way across the room towards the wood burner with her hands outstretched, praying she didn’t trip over anything.

‘Gah!’

Crash!

This time it wasn’t the roof, but one of the buckets she’d set out that morning to catch the drips. She’d just sent it flying across the room, and goodness only knows where it had landed.

Well… she’d just have to deal with that later. First, she needed some light!

Maggie’s fingers found the smooth, curved surface of the metal flue that ran up the inside of the wall and sank to her knees in front of the cold fireplace. She cringed as another gust of wind crashed around the roof.

Groping around on the hearthstone, Maggie muttered curses under her breath until her fingers wrapped around the slender form of the long, clicky gas-match. Thanking her lucky stars that she’d already laid the fire, she opened the little door and gave the lighter a shake before clicking the button.

Nothing.

‘Don’t do this to me!’ she muttered, clicking it again. It sparked, but there was no resulting flame. This really wasn’t the time to run out of gas!

‘Come on come on come on come on!’ she chanted, clicking the button again and again.

Three minutes later, she had a sore thumb and still no fire…

CRASH!

With a whimper, Maggie turned in the dark and crawled in the direction of the sofa. As soon as her forehead bumped against its squashy edge, she climbed up and pulled an ancient throw blanket from the back, yanking it right up to her chin.

She stared around at the pitch darkness with wide eyes.

There had been plenty of times she’d been more than happy to be on her own in this cottage – and proud of it, in fact. Right now, though, she’d give anything for a bit of company… or a hug.

Covering her ears with her hands, Maggie screwed her eyes closed and - just for a moment - wished she was on that beach with the palm trees. In the background, there was a posh hotel waiting for her… a soft towelling robe… room service… Russell…

‘No. Not that,’ she said, her eyes flying open again.

She was happy here without him. He’d more than proven that he was the wrong person for her. She was just feeling sorry for herself because she was over-tired, hungry and a little bit scared.

Plus, the memory of Luke’s lovely eyes and grubby hands – and how good he’d looked in a pair of overalls – had done something strange to her brain… but she wasn’t going to think about that right now.

‘This too shall pass!’ she said out loud, addressing the roof. It didn’t sound particularly zen-like. Her voice was a bit too shrill for that, but it did make her bravery return a tiny bit.

She’d just stay put here on the sofa. The storm would ease, everything would calm down… and then she’d be able to do something about food… and light… and warmth… and…

CRASH!

The weight of the wind seemed to shake the entire cottage… but the resulting grinding, ripping and thudding wasn’t the wind. It was something far more solid.

Maggie’s hands automatically flew to her face with the shock, only for her to realise that there were tears on her cheeks.

Seriously? It had come to this?!

The backs of her hands were wet too.

Wait… what?!

‘Uh oh!’ she said, jumping out of the sofa and staring up at the roof… or… in this case, the clouds. The patch of slates directly above her head had disappeared, along with the tarpaulin that had been roped to them. Rain was falling thick and fast onto her face and the sofa.

‘Not good! Not good!’ she chanted, feeling her way to the end of the sofa and doing her best to shove it out from beneath the gaping hole. It was far too heavy, and she promptly gave up.

‘Now what?’ she muttered, doing her best to swallow the sob that was trying to choke her as she stared around.

Rain was falling inside her cottage – and not just where she was standing. That last gust had clearly removed most of her makeshift covers – and possibly a good chunk of the remaining slates too. There was no way it’d be safe for her to go outside and try to wrangle the tarpaulins back into place… not that she’d be able to find them, anyway… they’d probably be halfway to Denmark by now.

Maggie tried to take a deep breath, cowering as the storm raged overhead. She couldn’t stay here. Not without power. Not without a roof!

The farm. It was her only option. She’d hop in the car and drive over to Mr Harris’s to ask for help!