August. The summer was hot and the days oppressive. Nick stood by the open window smoking yet another cigarette, watching the sky darken with an approaching storm and listening to the distant rumbles and grumbles of thunder. Perhaps a good downpour would clear the air and dispel the sticky lethargy that had enveloped him.
He had taken this little cottage on a six month tenancy after the breakdown of his marriage and while two sets of divorce solicitors agreed between them just what he would be allowed to keep from his former life. It was a little two bedroom, single story, stone built structure, accurately described by the letting agent as 'snug', and which stood alone against a gorse covered hillside on the edge of the moor, almost a mile from the village and about fifteen miles from the nearest substantial town. All those three were connected by a twice daily bus service on which, having impulsively sold his car, Nick relied for outside contact and supplies, the 'phone resolutely reserved for emergencies. The isolation was both a blessing and a trial, but the cottage and its setting were beautiful, and he hoped, probably in vain, that his ex would leave him enough to buy something similar when the ashes of his marriage had been sifted.
Its remoteness had been its attraction. Nick earned a good living compiling tour guides for some of England's most ancient castles and cathedrals, but it would never make him rich and he harboured the all too common illusion that there was a bestselling novel within him somewhere, if only he could get the peace and quiet to write it. Well, the ending of his marriage had given him the chance for the solitude he believed he needed, but inspiration was still as distant, and he just mooched around the cottage and sweated in the heat. He was frustrated, bored, apathetic, and annoyed with himself, in a nutshell, thoroughly pissed off! Maybe a good storm would help.
He looked again at the rapidly gathering clouds. Heaped black and heavy they were marching inevitably towards him, the first visible flickers of lightning announcing their potential. Very soon they would be overhead and he could watch safely from his cosy refuge as nature unleashed her anger. Nick was an incurable storm watcher. He loved the display of overwhelming power, especially at night when thunder and lightning shook the land and ripped open the darkness. He was never afraid, just in awe of nature's might, and this storm looked to be a good one.
Lighting a second cigarette from the stub of the first, a habit he despised, Nick turned from the window and went through to the little kitchen to make a coffee. He would sit on the wide window ledge and drink it while watching the storm.
By the time he returned to the front of the cottage with his coffee the storm had moved much closer, the lightning brighter and thunder louder. Looking up the road towards the moor he could actually see the edge of the rain advancing, the tarmac light and dusty before it but immediately going dark and shiny as the rain sluiced it clean. Half a coffee later and the storm was over the cottage, announcing it's arrival in the traditional manner with a multiple lightning strike followed by a tearing, booming, peal of thunder that shook the cottage to its very foundations. Seconds later the hissing, drumming, onslaught of the rain all but drowned out any other sound, pounding at the fabric of the cottage and rattling the windows. So sudden was its coming that Nick drew back in surprise before reaching forward to close the window against the huge raindrops trying to get in.
The arrival of the storm had caused an instant drop in temperature and Nick shivered in his light tee-shirt, wondering for a moment whether to put on a jumper or light the fire that was always ready laid in the grate. In the end he touched a match to the fire, after all, it would make the cottage so much cosier and nightfall was only an hour or so away. To sit in the firelight and watch through open curtains as a storm raged was almost romantic, and for just a moment he wished his ex-wife could be with him to share it. Pushing that unwanted thought from his mind he returned to his window ledge seat and gazed out at a storm in full fury.
Then, to his immense surprise, he spotted two figures walking down the road from the moor. They were too far away to be sure, but it looked like a young couple walking hand in hand, with heads bowed against the rain. What on earth were they doing out in this weather? Had they left their car in the village to walk on the moors or had they broken down? Whichever, their timing could have been better. He would have to call them to offer shelter; it would cruel to leave even a dog out in this lot. The storm agreed with his decision, and chose that moment to unleash another blinding flash of lightning together with an almost deafening crash of thunder. The cottage shook again and the rain, already bouncing from the road, became even more torrential. That settled it, Nick went and opened the door, standing just inside the porch ready to call to the sodden couple across as they came level with the cottage.
Standing in the open door, Nick realised just how cold it had become, a chill wind accompanied the rain, blowing over his skin and causing goose bumps to prickle his bare arms. What a contrast to fifteen minutes before. He watched the pair drawing nearer, the man in slacks and tee shirt, the woman in a light summer dress, and both obviously soaked to the skin. Then, as they drew closer, he saw that it was not a couple, but two young women, the one in slacks that he had mistaken for a man was simply taller and with short hair. Why in Gods name would two women be out alone on the moor in a thunderstorm?
"Hey, come in and shelter!" He called to them as they came closer.
His words were lost as another peal of thunder caused the women to flinch and hunch their heads further.
"Hey! Here!" He bellowed this time, determined to be heard above the rain. The taller of the pair looked around sharply, startled by his voice, and he waved his arms to attract her attention. Spotting the movement, she tugged urgently on her companion's arm and both now looked in his direction. He beckoned them over. Splashing through the stream that was once a road and instinctively ducking a lightning flash, the two hurriedly made their way towards him.
"Would you like to come in out of the rain?" A silly question really (who wouldn't?) but he didn't quite know how else to say it. When he had thought it to be a couple he hadn't a problem, but somehow it was different inviting two strange women in, weather not withstanding. Poor phrasing or not, his offer was instantly accepted and two grateful women tumbled dripping into the hall.
Nick led the way into the living room, where the fire, though not yet giving out much heat, was beginning to blaze and at least add cheer to a room darkened by the storm. Grabbing two towels from a pile of ironing not yet put away, Nick holding one out to each to his guests, taking a good look at them as he did so.
Usually he would have seen two very attractive, slim, mid twenties women, one about five ten with short dark hair and large brown eyes, the other around five four, honey blond, green eyes and an impish face, but today all he saw were two drowned rats. They stood wet through and shivering, hands held out to the fire, hair plastered to their skulls, dripping rainwater, and looking thoroughly miserable.
They each took a towel with a grateful smile and a whispered 'thank you' and, as women automatically tend to do, began to dry their hair. Looking at them, he realised that a towel apiece represented totally inadequate hospitality. The taller looked like a contestant in a wet tee-shirt competition, revealing far too much of her gorgeously pert breasts, and the other's dress was almost as transparent, though at least she was wearing underwear – white, as it happens. Goose bumps stood on their skin and they were both trembling from cold. They needed to be properly warm and dry to avoid a chill.
"Look" He said. "You're welcome to a hot shower if you like one, there's plenty of hot water."
The two looked to each other for agreement, and then nodded.
Nick indicated the way to the bathroom. "You'll find plenty of bath towels in the airing cupboard, and ...err, if you ...err, like, you can throw out your wet things and I'll put them in the machine. They'll be clean and dry before this storm's over." He was annoyed with himself for showing such schoolboy embarrassment.
