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“Have you seen the weather forecast?” I asked Aunt Cat. I was leaning against her dressing table and helping her choose her clothes for her weekend away with Dad, but I wasn’t entirely sure she was going to need the sunhat she was currently putting in her suitcase. And that was merely based on the fact they were attending a wedding in Wales, not the Algarve.
The storm forecast notwithstanding.
“I have. But it’s the Met Office, dear, and they don’t know their arses from their ears.” She put some flip-flops in on top of the sunhat.
No. That wouldn’t do.
“I think you do this deliberately.” I pushed off the dressing table and nudged her out of my way. I couldn’t stand the manner in which she packed, and she knew it. I all but emptied her suitcase onto the bed and set to folding it and repacking it correctly.
Like not putting shoes on top of hats or clothes.
“I might well do,” she replied, examining her nails. “What do those wily foxes say the weather’s doing this weekend, then?”
Wily foxes.
That was something I’d never heard the Met Office called.
Could meteorologists be referred to as wily foxes? What was wily or fox-like about predicting the weather?
“There’s a storm coming in,” I answered, folding her favorite cocktail dress. “A pretty bad one. High winds. Predicted flooding. It’s supposed to be all weekend.”
“Oh. Then I won’t need these, will I?” She removed the sunhat and flip-flops from the suitcase. “Shall I pack my wellies?”
“It’s Wales,” I replied dryly. “You should always pack your wellies if you’re going to Wales for longer than a day trip. In fact, even then it’s worth throwing them in the boot.”
“Good point. You’ll have to take those clothes out, Gabriella. My wellies will need to go in the bottom.”
Sigh.
“Have you considered what you’ll do if you can’t get back? You know the roads flood and it takes forever for them to clear.”
“Well, if the bloody council would stop building on the flood plains, it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Unfortunately, unless you suddenly become the person in charge at the council, there’s not a lot we can do about that.” I delicately placed her clothing to the side. “If the weather takes a turn for the worse, will you come home early or stay?”
“You’ll have to ask your father. I’m not allowed to plan trips anymore. Remember when I thought I’d booked a week in Lisbon and it was actually Lebanon?”
“How could I forget?” I shook my head. Nobody quite knew how she’d managed to not only mix up Europe and North Africa, but also how she’d mixed up a city with an entire country and not noticed.
Not to mention that she needed vaccines for Lebanon.
“However, I suspect we’ll stay. You know how your father gets while driving in the rain. He turns into some kind of monster, and he doesn’t appreciate my help from the passenger side.”
That wasn’t exclusive to rainy weather.
Nobody needed her help when they were driving. Ever.
Her so-called help mostly consisted of enthusiastic beeping of the horn at those she considered to be bad drivers and the yelling of more than a few strong words.
Words she’d give me a clip around the ear for saying because they’re unladylike.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “So what about the animals? I don’t know what I’m doing with them. What if Caleb can’t get here either?”
“Ask him to stay over just in case. It’s not like there isn’t any room.” She paused. “Oh, if he can’t get here, neither can the staff. Never mind. There’ll be nobody to make him a room.”
“I’m perfectly capable of making a bed, Aunt Cat.”
“I know you are, but you don’t have to.”
“I change my own sheets once a week.”
She blinked at me. “You do?”
“All right, every two weeks,” I admitted. “Sometimes longer if I forget. But I change them. I don’t trust Emily not to put an earwig in my bed, if I’m honest.”
“I’d put an earwig in her bed if I were you. You’re insufferable.”
“I love you, too.”
“I know.” She flashed me a smile. “You’ll be all right even if we get stuck. You know it’s never as bad as what they say. It’ll be fine.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
There were a lot of famous last words happening of late.
The most recent ones belonged to Aunt Cat.
I wrapped my arms around my stomach as I stared out of the window. The panes rattled as the gale force winds from the storm made the rain slam against them in an endless beat. There was no doubt at all that there would be widespread flooding in the area, and all I could do was hope that it stayed confined to the roads and not anyone’s houses.
It was a fifty-fifty chance at this point.
I’d sent everyone home just after lunch. After watching the forecast like a hawk, it’d become clear to me that flooding was absolutely going to happen, and I knew a large number of our staff had children. There was no way I could keep them here in the hope the forecast was wrong, so I’d sent everyone on their way with a promise they’d be paid even if they couldn’t get here for a couple of days because of the weather.
