We always knew the water meadow flooded. In fact it does so most years. But last autumn it showed its true colours and took us all by surprise. As did the whole experience.
It was late October, nights were drawing in and it was a cold damp spell of weather. Jean, my wife, was away at a conference for clinical psychologists in Cambridge; Paul, our oldest son, was three weeks into his second year at university and Grace and I had the house to ourselves.
Grace, my quiet, attractive, twenty-year old daughter. She didn't turn heads or anything dramatic - if anything you didn't notice her with her shoulder length brown hair and slight figure. She was just a little taller than average at about five foot nine. But I always thought she should make more of herself. I mean she could do so easily. But Grace is comfortable with herself, easy going and easy to get on with.
The great love of her life, Nik, had gone to university and had met someone else. Grace accepted all this philosophically, had even anticipated it. There was no blame. But she hadn't found another yet.
She was working that winter in a bookshop in town and seemed to enjoy it. We didn't push her to be more ambitious. If we had she would have smiled at us and told us she was quite happy for now. But I wondered if she really was and if, deep down inside, she was torturing herself for a lost love and for her inability to set it aside completely.
Anyway none of this was in the forefront of my mind at that precise time. We were rubbing along together quite nicely. Jean would be away all week and we both had our separate jobs to get on with. I ran Grace into town each morning; she usually got a lift home. At the end of the day the two of us would rummage around and put a meal together and eat it in front of the fire whilst we watched television. We'd done it before and knew the routine.
It had been raining for days now and the meadow was already under water. When I got home the dip in the driveway below the house was just under water. The house itself stands on a natural raised platform well above any possible flood but the garage is below the house and would soon flood if the water level became exceptionally high.
The driveway ran from the road - the highest point, where the fuel store had been built to be convenient for coal deliveries - down into the dip, and then up just a little to the garage. From there a winding path brought you up to the front door of the house. Grace said she just got home without getting her feet wet.
At about eight o'clock I went out with a pocket lamp to see what was happening; Grace followed me out. The water had risen already and the garage must have had two inches of water in it. I drove the car up onto the road to park it well above the water, higher in fact than the level of the house itself. When I paddled back through the five inches of water on the drive I saw Grace sticking plastic picnic knives into the grass at the water's edge. She grinned.
'I thought we'd be able to see how much it's risen in the morning,' she explained.
'Could be a good way to lose them,' I added.
Grace laughed nervously and we went inside.
We settled down to watch TV. I poured myself a glass of wine. Grace turned down my offer of a drink and was half watching the TV and half reading a book.
Suddenly the lights went out. Click. I heard the central heating pump click off too. The TV faded away leaving momentarily an eerie glow in the darkened room. The fire we had lit was just embers now as we were letting it die down.
'If the power's off the gas heating will cut out too,' Grace said.
'Perhaps we should build the fire up to keep the house warm, then,' I suggested.
Grace nodded. 'And leave this door open so it warms the whole house.'
In the darkness we built the fire up well, put a fireguard round it and sat a while by its warm orange light. Grace had given up trying to read so we chatted. Not about anything much - just the meal the next night, whether we'd be able to get out to go to work in the morning, oh yes, and about the coal for the fire...
'Whatever happens we'll have to get up to the coal store in the morning, even if we have to wade up there and back,' I said.
'We can have towels ready in the kitchen to dry ourselves...' said Grace.
'...and have a hot drink ready too,' I added.
Grace shivered.
'Time for bed,' I suggested. I hadn't wondered quite how we were going to produce the hot drink.
Grace got up and we both groped our way up to our bedrooms, touching familiar objects in the dark. We had already discovered that there were no candles in the house and that the only pocket lamp, or torch as we call them, had almost flat batteries as we had discovered when we went out earlier.
I heard Grace giggling ahead of me.
'What's up?' I asked.
'I nearly said something really stupid,' she said laughing even more loudly.
'Go on,' I said. 'What did you nearly say?'
'I nearly said rechargeable batteries would have been better!'
I laughed too and was still smiling as I climbed into bed. I was soon asleep.
I don't know how much later it was but I know I had begun to feel quite cold as the heat upstairs had presumably dissipated through the roof as the temperature nose-dived after midnight. I realized Grace had slipped into bed beside me. I was in my pyjamas - not one to change my routines! - Grace was still dressed in her jeans and sloppy jumper. I was facing her as she moulded her back against my chest.
'I'm cold, dad,' she grunted. And then we both slept on until daylight filtered through the windows. I hadn't closed the curtains. I awoke to find my arm was now across Grace's stomach as she lay on her back beside me. I tried to remove my arm but as I did so she turned her head towards me and smiled.
'Sleep well?' she asked.
'Yes, I did after...'
Grace interrupted me: 'So did I after I got warm again.' She smiled still as her fingers played an unheard tune on the back of my hand. 'I've had an idea,' she said, getting out of the bed and disappearing. I heard her patter her way downstairs and the noise of her poking the fire and doing something else in the hearth penetrated the wall space and could be heard distantly upstairs in my room.
I got up and went to the bathroom. I thought it might be an idea to store some water in case the tap supply was contaminated by the floodwaters and decided to mention this to Grace. I went to the lounge where I found her watching the fire.
She had contrived to wedge a latticed oven tray over the fire to create a flat surface. On it a small saucepan full of water was just starting to sizzle. To the right two slices of bread were toasting.
'Cup of tea and a slice of toast, sir?' she asked with a smug grin.
'Yes, please, Your Highness!' I replied. I often call her that.
ooo000ooo
After breakfast we donned old trainers and our Berghaus waterproof jackets and prepared to go to get some coal. Grace had put the towels ready. I had some top quality Orvis fisherman's waders in the garage but I knew that by the time I got there I would be soaking wet and Grace didn't have anything like that so we just set off down the path into the dip. As we walked forwards, carrying two buckets each that we had found in the larder, Grace suddenly slipped and disappeared from view. I threw myself after her, foolishly so given the relatively shallow depth in my unnecessary panic, and pulled her from the water. By now we were both soaked to the skin from head to toe and already trembling with cold.
We pressed on urgently and reached the coal store. Fumbling with the padlocks we opened the store and began to fill our buckets. Soon we set off with two buckets each, leaving two unfilled buckets outside the store.
We got back to the house without further mishap and left our treasure under the eaves. I told Grace to get inside and said that I would bring the two remaining buckets with some firewood. She said that I wasn't going anywhere without her, trembling terribly as she spoke. Neither of us really had the energy to argue so we set off again.
We reached the store, loaded the firewood, replaced the padlock and set off for the house, which we reached after a few minutes. Grace had found another empty bucket in the store and had filled that with coal too. We were both exhausted, very cold and shivering uncontrollably. 'Leave the buckets out here,' I said when we got back to the house and pushed Grace indoors.
I followed her into the kitchen. 'We'd best get this lot off,' I managed.
Teeth chattering, Grace barely managed to reply: 'Yes.'
Grace pulled her sweater over her head and, heavy with water, it dropped to the floor. She wasn't wearing a bra - I knew she rarely did - and her small round breasts with stiff pink nipples somehow evidenced how cold she was. She began to pull her jeans down and I threw her a towel to cover herself but she started to try to dry her hair as she used her feet alternately to work her jeans down to her ankles. She stepped out of them and looked at me.
By this time I was naked. Towel in hand I moved behind Grace and began to dry her back vigorously, hoping to warm her up too.
'Thanks, dad,' she croaked. It would be a lie to say I wasn't aware of her nudity, of her straight back and of the curves of her bottom, which I dried as well. She turned to me and smiled as she picked up the last towel off the stool. Stepping really close to me she reached up to dry my face and pummel my hair to dry it quickly. I was even more aware of her nudity, of her breasts moving with her efforts to dry me.
Grace paused. 'We'll never get warm like this,' she said, pulling me by the arm out of the kitchen. She led the way upstairs and disappeared a moment only to reappear clutching three or four thick blankets. In my bedroom she rapidly unfolded them and spread them on top of the duvet to make a thick layer.
'Come on, dad,' she said and, lifting the bedding she slipped under and into bed. I followed and lay beside her. We were both still shivering and not fully dry. I put my arms around Grace and held her to me. I sensed her responsiveness as she moved one leg over mine and pressed herself against me. We lay still, somehow drawing on the heat now coming off our bodies that was trapped by the weight of the bedding over us. Slowly warmth was restored to us both and I sensed Grace relax and then her breathing calmed.
I also became more aware that one of my hands that held her was on her left breast and I felt her nipple on the palm of my hand. I began to move it away. Grace rolled to face me and smiled again as she had earlier that morning.
'It's all right, dad, I promise,' she said as she shifted slightly and lay partly on my chest, partly on her side, with one leg between my two legs. I was unsure what to do - but Grace simply moved her face to mine and we kissed. And as we kissed we became more aware of our own desires. Grace pushed her tongue cautiously into my mouth and I reciprocated joyously drinking in her soft warmth.
