A Small Flood

You can read the story so far from the beginning here

Tom stared in disbelief at the mounting emails. “What’s going on?”

Across the open plan office, his boss was shaking her head. “I don’t believe this.”

“But they were supposed to be a reliable firm,” Kieran said across from him.

Tom’s head dropped. “You went and hired the Smiths, didn’t you? Even after I warned you.”

“They did great work for us over in Garforth,” Kieran said.

Tom could feel his fists clenching and made a conscious effort to relax his posture. “But that was before the old man retired. The father was brilliant, with reasonable rates, realistic time scales and absolutely no drama. His sons are the biggest pile of…”

“Remember, we’ve got a no swearing policy in the office,” Stella said.

“I’ll give them a ring,” Tom said.

“And don’t forget your contribution to the coffee fund,” Stella added.

Tom stared at her. “We have got fourteen units being flooded out because of shoddy plumbing that we should never have passed,” he said flatly. “That’s fourteen families who are getting their lives turned upside down and their possessions ruined because we got it wrong. Right now, I need to call around to get someone decent in to fix the pipes, arrange industrial dehumidifiers and I need to arrange on site visits to assess whether we have a legal duty to rehouse those families, some of them with young kids, while repairs are made. And you’re worried about the coffee fund?” Tom couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “It’s not even due till Friday.”

“I felt it important to remind you so that it didn’t get lost in the shuffle,” Stella said primly. “After all, you’re no longer doing the sandwich run since you’re bringing lunch in and I’m concerned that we’re losing you as a team player.”

“Seriously?” Tom said. “You’re upset because no-one else can be bothered to go to the sandwich shop fifty metres down the road?” He bit back his impulse to swear with an effort. “If it’s that much of a problem, I’ll fetch the stuff at lunchtime anyway. I’ll be glad of the walk as I’ll be spending my lunchbreak at my desk trying to sort out this mess.”

“Asking you fetch sandwiches for everyone else even though you bring your own lunch could be seen as creating a hostile environment.” Stella folded her hands on her desk. “I’m not prepared to start trouble with HR.”

“You should go back to buying sandwiches,” Kieran said. “It’s not fair that you get the good stuff. You even got home made soup in a flask.”

“It’s not appropriate to comment on another worker’s lunch,” Stella said. “It could be discriminatory.”

“How could him getting soup be discriminatory?” Kieran asked.

Tom ignored them and instead grabbed a notepad and started jotting down notes. “I’ll skip lunch in the office this once. I need to get out there anyway,” he said. “I can’t make sense of all the conflicting reports. I think some of the tenants are exaggerating, some don’t know what they should report and there’s a couple that I don’t think have noticed and they worry me as well.”

“That’s not acceptable,” Stella said. “We haven’t finished discussing the lunch issue.”

Tom stood and shoved the notepad into his pocket. “People’s homes are being affected, Stella. I am happy to abide by whatever you decide about lunch. Just make a decision and let me know.”

“I can’t impose my cultural values on you!” Stella called after him as he grabbed his coat and raced out of the office.

*****

The drive back to the village seemed to stretch out for hours. Tom could feel the tension in his shoulders setting in like an iron brace. First of all there had been an accident on the inner ring road which meant that most of the city centre had been gridlocked. Then he’d got stuck behind a bus on a stretch of narrow road so limped behind at barely walking pace as the bus halted at every stop, always far enough away from the curb to make overtaking unsafe. After he finally got away from the bus and he got closer to home, he found that someone had let out a pen full of sheep. His usual route had been jammed with livestock, sheepdogs and hapless farm hands. And it had all given him too much time to think.

Work was harder than it should be. He’d taken the job because his brother owed a favour to the firm and they wanted someone who could lift heavy things. That had been over a decade ago and Tom had since been promoted against his will into the office. His brother had insisted that he take the promotion because it was good for the family and the pack for him to have a responsible job with a pension. This had left Tom stuck in a job he loathed and with co-workers that irritated him. Today had been a case in point.

The problem with the plumbing had been easy enough to sort out. Half of the reports were exaggerated and the rest were easily dealt with. He’d had to physically throw the young Smith lads out before they could do more damage, but that had been a chance to work off some of his annoyance and they weren’t likely to come back. Not unless they were willing to hand over the money their mistakes cost. Tom tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, deep in thought. He could hear Lord Peregrine’s voice echoing in his mind. Would it be so bad to take up the job offer? He had no idea what was going to happen to the shop, and he was willing to bet real money that Lord Peregrine didn’t either, but at least he wouldn’t have the commute. He inched along slowly as the sheep were herded out of the way. And he wouldn’t have to put up with Stella who was so terrified of HR that you could never get anything done, at least, not at any speed. And Kieran had started acting like a spoiled brat once Hilary had started providing him lunch.

Tom sped up a little as the sheep were cleared out of the way. If things went wrong with whatever Lord Peregrine set up, he should still be able to manage. Hilary was charging a ridiculously low rent, and he’d always stashed money away to one side where his brother couldn’t get it. He’d have enough for a breathing space no matter what happened and, besides, he had enough contacts in the building and estates management field to pick up a new job. The thought of handing in his notice grew more tempting by the moment.

He drove over the old stone bridge and started on the road that led up the hill to Rowan Cottage. It already felt more like home than anywhere he’d lived since his parents died. It may just be a rented room with a flustered witch and an opinionated brownie, but it was safe. There were no crazed arguments, no slamming of doors or throwing of china. There was just Hilary, doing her bewildered best and Bracken who was slowly learning about life outside the confines of the brownies’ duty.

Of course, he would have to learn how to run a shop, but that couldn’t be too hard after everything else. Tom slowed down and then stopped, pulling over to the side of the road. His neighbour was standing on her front lawn, looking almost in tears as she clutched her yonng son to her. “Yvette, is everything alright?” he called out of the window.

Yvette turned around, her face pale. “Tom! It’s so good to see you. I’ve got a bit of a problem.”

Tom slid out of the car and jogged around to join Yvette on her front lawn. “What’s happened?” he asked. He ducked his head to try and meet the two year old’s eyes. “Hi there, Darius, how’s it going buddy?”

“The stream at the back has flooded,” Yvette said. “I didn’t think it was possible.” She looked at the soggy pile of towels dumped next to the front door and the precarious stack of electronics shoved inside the open boot of her car. “We’ve been here ten years and I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Can I have a look?” Tom asked. “It may just be a stray branch blocking the water. It’s funny how things can build up.”

“Could you?” Yvette said. “I’m trying to keep Darius away from the water. At first he wanted to play in it but now he’s just ready for his nap.” She shifted the lad in her arms as he drooped against her. “Gideon went into Leeds this afternoon to pick up some stuff and visit his mother and I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Tom nodded. Yvette’s husband, Gideon, was a good man, but he got carried away when he got talking to his family and lost all sense of time. He might not get home until midnight. “Hang on, I may have some stuff in my car that will help. I’ll just see what the problem is.”

Around the back of the Victorian villa, the problem was obvious. The spring from the back of Rowan Cottage ran down the hill behind the houses and a fallen branch had got wedged across the narrow stream. It was now clogged with fallen leaves and general debris. Water was backing up and spilling over, already an inch deep past the stand of silver birches, through the painted fence and over the immaculate garden before seeping into their kitchen.

“It’s not really into the house yet,” Yvette said. “But it’s only a matter of time, and I’m not sure what to do. Do I turn the electric off at the mains?”

Tom eyed the thin layer of moisture on the kitchen floor. “What’s the cellar like?”

“We haven’t got a cellar,” Yvette said. “Gideon thought that we were too close to the water table.”

Tom frowned as he watched the water creeping slowly wider over the lawn and shook his head. “It should be fine for a few moments.”

One good thing about his job, Tom thought, was that he kept a lot of kit in his car. The wellington boots were perfect for wading over garden and through the small gate to the stream’s blockage, but it didn’t look good. Tom tried a few experimental tugs on the closest branches, but shook his head. “This isn’t going to move easily,” he said. He looked upstream and tried to estimate the flow. “Why don’t you take Darius around the front,” he said. “I’m going to have to change to get in there and use my full strength and I’m sure that you don’t want to encourage Darius to want to play in the stream.”

Yvette shuddered. “He’s into everything as it is,” she said, holding her squirming son close. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s go play in the front. And I’ll get out some biscuits,” she added in a desperate attempt at bribery.

Tom waited until they were out of sight at the front of the house and quickly stripped off his clothes. He shivered briefly in the damp November air but the heat of the change soon dispelled the chill. As his body twisted and reshaped, warmth flowed through and around him until he was in his wolf form, his tail high and waving gently and his ears erect. Shaking his fur out, he splashed back through the water to investigate.

With his wolf eyes, he could see a little clearer and his huge paws made short work of digging away the debris building up at the edge of the bank. It wasn’t helpful. The branch was jammed between rocks on either side of the stream, wedged firmly and resisting any movement. Leaves and smaller branches were now tangled up with it and barely any water was moving through. Tom braced himself and then bounced on branch, slamming down all the weight of his massive wolf. He bounced a few times, splashing wildly, but gave up as the branch remained solid. Tom didn’t know if it was the water or the extra debris cushioning his impact, but it wasn’t moving.

He leaned in closer and sneezed as the spicy, prickly scent of magic tickled his nose. He took a step or two back, wary. The scent wasn’t strong, and the trace was fading, so there wasn’t magic keeping it there. He tried sniffing closer and accidentally inhaled spring water. He spluttered and snuffled but it confirmed his guess. Magic put that branch in place. It was a while ago and it had taken time for the block to build up, but there was still that lingering faint scent. At least nothing was holding the branch now. He shook himself, took a deep breath and dived in with a satisfying splash. This branch needed werewolf strength to dislodge it.

*****

Hilary opened the kitchen door as soon as she heard a scratch. “Yvette rang me,” she said, then froze. She had seen a few werewolves in their wolf form but Tom was huge. He was easily up to her waste, with thick, dark fur and a gently waving tail. She took a deep breath. “And she was right. You are absolutely covered in mud!” She flinched back as Tom shook himself wildly. Mud spattered all over the porch and the narrow strip of kitchen floor behind Hilary. “Oh look at this mess!” she exclaimed. “What are we going to do with you?”

Tom’s tongue hung out as he panted, his front legs down and his back legs straight in the classic bowing position of a canine wanting to play.

“Don’t you start!” Hilary said. “You need to get cleaned up double quick. It’s sausages and mash tonight and Bracken is making a special onion gravy. You can’t sit down to eat looking like that.”

Tom pranced a little, bouncing around, his tail wagging.

“I’ve a good mind to set the hose on you,” Hilary said. “The last thing that I need is all that mud clogging my drains. You are filthy!”

Tom trotted away towards the hose.

“Are you seriously okay with getting hosed down?” Hilary asked. “The water is going to be freezing.”

Tom bowed again and then dashed off to come back with the nozzle of the hose in his mouth.

“Okay, if you insist,” Hilary said. “But don’t blame me when you catch cold.” She leaned back toward the kitchen. “Bracken, could you fetch a bundle of towels, please.” She turned back to Tom. “Just because you’re sparing me your muddy paw prints doesn’t mean that you get to drip water all over my house until you get to the shower,” she said. “I’ll towel you down first. There’s going to be enough mess as it is.”

Tom barked and dashed over to nudge the outside tap on.

Hilary turned the hose on and aimed it at Tom who was happily bouncing around in the spray. “And to think that I was worried about being bored here,” she muttered.