The Boy Who Loved Rain by Gerard Kelly

Author:Gerard Kelly
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lion Hudson LTD
Published: 2014-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The rain fluctuates between drizzle and torrential. It messes with your mind. It makes you think things will always be like this, never getting better, always letting you down right when you thought the worst was over.

Susane Colasanti, Waiting For You

It seemed that only minutes had passed when she was woken by an urgent knocking at her door. Miriam came in without waiting for a response.

“Wake up, Fiona,” she said breathlessly. “Colom’s gone. He’s not in his room.”

It took her a moment to remember where she was.

“What did you say?”

“Colom. He’s nowhere in the house and it’s past three in the morning. We’ll need to go and look for him.”

By the time Fiona came to properly and descended the staircase, Miriam already had a pot of coffee brewing.

“We may well need it,” she explained. “It’s cold out there, and black as pitch, and this is not an easy place to find a wanderer. Has he done this before?”

“Done what?”

“Taken off, in the night. On his own.”

“I don’t think so. You know he’s often up at night. But I don’t think he’s ever left the house.”

“Well, he has now. I heard him on the stairs about an hour ago – I thought he must have come down to get a glass of water or something to eat – he ate hardly a thing yesterday. It seemed strangely quiet when I woke again, so I came down to check. No sign of him, and the door is unlocked – I locked it before going up to bed. Where do you think he might have gone?”

“Where? I have no idea. What does he think… No, Miriam, please. Not the police. Please.”

Miriam had her mobile phone in her hand and was about to dial.

“I’m calling Thierry – he won’t mind and he knows this village like the back of his hand. He and Colom have spent some time together; he might have some idea of where he’s gone. Why not the police?”

“It’s complicated. I can explain everything, and I will, I promise. But please – they mustn’t know we’re here.”

Miriam hesitated. She wanted to know more but right now had other priorities. “OK,” she said reluctantly. “But Fiona, if we haven’t found him in an hour, we have to call. This is a dangerous place.”

Thierry picked up. Miriam explained to him in short, sharp bursts of French, then turned once more to Fiona.

“He’ll meet us in the car park in five minutes. Torches. We need torches – under the sink in the kitchen.”

Fiona rummaged as instructed and found two good torches in working order.

“Do you have spare batteries?” she asked, without turning around.

“The drawer next to the oven – there should be a new pack.”

Miriam was by this time wrapped up to the neck in her raincoat and two scarves; a woollen hat pulled low. Fiona followed suit, though had no hat, and regretted it as soon as they headed out into the night, the wind howling. They found Thierry in the car park, torch in hand.

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