He was right. They were standing in the roadway, the bridge and river only a few yards away. By the bright but rain-limited beam of Percy's torch Gabe could see the ferocious white spume that reared and tossed on the roiling water, whose level was almost up to the top of the river-banks. It didn't look like the swollen river would be contained for much longer.
The engineer had noticed the two cars in the short parking bay and he thought he had seen the small two-door Citroën before. The other vehicle, a dark-red Mondeo, he didn't recognize. Who the hell would be visiting on a night like this?
Gabe and Percy hadn't said much to one another as they had battled the storm, but the old gardener's concern over Crickley Hall had the American worried. The house had survived the previous flood, hadn't it? So Eve only had to get herself and the girls upstairs and trust in the building's solid, thick walls to withstand any floodwaters. Although power lines were vulnerable in this kind of weather, Gabe was also concerned that Percy hadn't been able to reach Eve by phone. He didn't like the idea of Crickley Hall being totally cut off.
The gardener directed the torchbeam towards the bridge ahead of them.
'I don't like the looks of that, either,' he declared, and Gabe nodded. Nor did he.
Natural debris—branches, a small tree, shrubbery and no doubt dead animals—was piling up on one side of the bridge, and the structure itself was visibly unsteady, shaking as if about to break free of the concrete bases on both riverbanks. Crossing it was going to be a risk.
'Percy, we gotta get over the bridge right now, before it goes,' Gabe shouted into the gardener's hood-covered ear. 'But, look, maybe you don't. No point in both of us chancing it.'
'I'll come along with yer, Mr Caleigh. We'll hafta' be quick though.'
Gabe didn't argue: there was no time. Soon the bridge was going to break away under the strain. He clamped his hand around the old man's upper arm. 'Let's go, then!'
Percy led the way, shining the torch down at the ground before them as they went. Gabe had never felt so wet in all his life: his reefer coat felt twice as heavy as normal and his hair was plastered to his scalp. Although his coat collar was up, rainwater still managed to soak his neck; his jeans were now a darker shade of blue and even the socks beneath his boots felt damp. They plodded over the muddy patch in front of the bridge and paused to make a closer assessment of the wooden structure's condition.
Percy stood to one side so that he could examine the thick stanchions supporting the bridge.
'One of 'em uprights has come away,' he informed the engineer. 'The whole blamed thing's gonna' tear free afore long, but that were why it were built this way, so's it don't act like a dam.'
'That's helpful, Perce. Shall we get across now?'
Gabe placed a tentative foot on the sodden slippery boards. The bridge shook under him.
'Got an idea, Perce. Let's just run for it.'
Percy clapped him on the back and without another word they raced towards the other side of the bridge.
They almost made it together, but the surface was too slick with spray and slime. Percy's feet skidded from under him and he went down with a bone-rattling thud.
Gabe, who had made it all the way before his companion had fallen, turned back for him and as he reached down to haul Percy to his feet, the whole bridge lurched. The deck tilted and the engineer went down on one knee. Percy began to slide towards the left-hand rail and might have slipped through the struts had not Gabe grabbed him. Unbalanced himself, Gabe managed to clutch the limb of a tree that was poking through the struts on the right-hand rail. It jerked forward a little, then held firm, and Gabe was able to draw Percy towards him using the branch for leverage.
The bridge continued to lurch and tilt, and it was obvious to both men that the weakened structure was going to break away at any second.
'On your feet, Percy!' Gabe yelled, one hand under the gardener's shoulder. Letting go of the branch with his left, he now grasped the top of the rail.
The other man rose shakily, using Gabe for support. A sharp judder, then another lurch. Something—a hefty tree branch probably—smashed against the engineer's curled fingers, but he ignored the pain, well aware that if he should let go, he and Percy would slide off the bridge into the water below, for the rail on the other side had broken, leaving a gaping hole just inches above the turbulent river.
He yanked Percy up all the way and shouted: 'Keep hold of my arm and work your way along it to the other bank!'
Percy didn't bother to reply: he followed Gabe's instructions. First he clung to the engineer's taut upper arm, moving along the elbow and then the wrist, his boots threatening to skid from under him with every step he took. When he reached Gabe's upraised fist holding the rail, he lunged for the right-hand rail and clung to it. He had stuffed the torch into one of his storm coat's huge pockets, so he had both hands free.
The bridge was now leaning perilously at one end, the nearest to the lane, and it began to sway with water splashing over its planks.
Percy quickly stumbled and slid his way towards the path, and finally he reached it. Even though he was out of breath and his arms and legs were shaking with the effort, he brought out the torch again and pointed it at Gabe, who was still struggling to pull himself along the rail, his feet constantly slipping on the wet boards. The incline was becoming more and more acute so that it was almost impossible for the engineer's boots to gain purchase, but he battled on, slowly drawing closer and closer to the bridge's end. Then, just as he was about to grab Percy's outstretched hand, the structure lurched once more, violently this time, and Gabe thought he would be swept away with it. He hadn't counted on the old gardener's tenacity, though.
Percy dropped the torch onto the ground and leaned forward as far as he could from the very edge of the path. He clasped Gabe's coat with both hands and, with surprising strength for a man of his age, pulled the engineer off the bridge.
There was a loud ear-splitting cracking as the bridge behind Gabe collapsed. The broken structure was instantly carried away by the rising river and all the detritus that had been banked up behind it followed.
Gabe bent over, hands on his knees, and fought to suck in lost breath. By the time he straightened, Percy had the torch back in his hand and was shining its light at him.
'Th-thanks, Percy,' he stammered, then realized his gardener wouldn't have heard him over the storm. 'Much obliged,' he said, louder this time.
'Yer did right by me, Mr Caleigh,' Percy growled loudly. 'A favour for a favour.'
Gabe saw evidence of a faint smile on the old man's face.
As one, they turned to look at the house, both of them breathing heavily. Lightning flared and its thunder boomed.
'Did yer see the same as me?' Percy was looking at Gabe for affirmation. 'The lightnin' lit it up, over there near the tree.' He aimed the beam at something—no, someone, Gabe realized—stretched flat out on the lawn close to the big oak tree.
They hurried towards the prone figure and for one heart-freezing moment Gabe thought it might be Eve lying there in the rain. It was certainly a woman—he could see slim fashion-booted legs beneath the hem of her coat. But Eve didn't have a coat of that light colour: she favoured darker tones for overcoats. As they drew near, he noticed the coat sleeves were pulled up slightly and the woman wore bracelets on both wrists—no, not bracelets: wristbands, coloured wristbands. He was beginning to understand who she was before they reached her. He had thought the small car in the lane's parking area was familiar, because it was the same one that had been parked there when he returned from work on Wednesday; it belonged to the psychic, Lili Peel. But by the torchlight he saw this person's hair was dark, whereas the psychic's had been light blonde, so maybe he was mistaken, this was someone else.