Page 9 of A Fresh Start on Crumcarey
‘Okay, stop saying – orthinking- 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’tquitehave 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. Thisreallywasn’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!
