I light a candle, drip some wax on the table and put it down before lighting a couple more and putting them around the room. Now the room is bouncing with shadows as the flames flicker.
‘Well, would you look at that?’ Tom points to an alcove filled with wooden logs next to where the stove would have been. ‘I’ve got an idea.’ He disappears and minutes later I hear the sound of metal being dragged across the floor towards the kitchen door. He appears in the doorway pulling a metal grate that he’s obviously rescued from the old fireplace in the lounge.
‘We can build a fire and use the flue where the old stove was,’ he says. ‘There’s enough stuff in here to burn to get a fire going.’
The thought of being warm, and drying my clothes, and being able to heat water is heaven.
‘But what about if they’re looking for us and they see the smoke?’
‘It’s going to be dark soon. Besides, I doubt anyone could see it in this weather. Hopefully they’re scratching their heads in Kendal at the moment and trying to repair a very expensive drone.’
He sets about building a fire, breaking up one of the chairs for kindling, which takes very little effort.
‘Don’t suppose you’ve got any more wool in your pockets?’
I shake my head.
He takes one of the candles and tries to light one of the pieces of kindling, but as soon as it catches light, it bursts into flame and dies quickly before setting fire to the other pieces of wood. After several attempts he puts down the candle. I’m starting to shiver. He tries again but to no avail.
‘Bugger. This isn’t working. I need something to get it going.’
I have a lightbulb moment and rescue my toilet bag. I hand him a tampon.
‘What?’
‘It’s made of cotton wool. Packed down tight. If you open it up, I think it will burn.’
He takes it from me, between finger and thumb as if it’s a fucking hand grenade.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake.’ I laugh at his squeamishness and snatch it from him, rip off the paper, hand it back to him along with the carboard tube before tugging at the white cotton tampon to expand it.
‘Sorry,’ he says, slightly shame-faced as he sets it on the grate and builds a pyramid of the kindling around it. The wooden logs, which have been in the cottage for so long, are so dry that they catch almost immediately.
He raises a hand and we high-five each other.
Unfortunately, seconds later, my eyes start to water as the room begins to fill with smoke.
‘Quick, open the door,’ says Tom.
‘The door?’ What’s he on about.
‘To draw the fire up the chimney. It’s too cold. Go on, quick.’
I have no idea what any of this means but his imperative tone sends me scurrying to the door, which I open. Surely this will just let out all the heat?
But miraculously it does the trick and the smoke starts to dissipate. After a couple of minutes there’s a roaring fire in the grate and Tom tells me I can close the door. The heat is delicious and I creep towards it, hands outstretched. It’s only then I realise just how chilled I am and how cold my fingers are, as they tingle with my circulation returning.
I really want to take my wet clothes off but decide we need to get organised first. Besides I need to go back outside. Grabbing my coat, I start to shoulder my way into it.
‘Where the hell are you going?’
‘To get some water. I can fill the billycan from the gutter and we can have a hot drink and some food.’ I bet he won’t be complaining about the quality of the food this evening.
I end up filling both billycans and both thermos flasks because I don’t want to have to come out here again tonight. I also take advantage of the privacy for a quick pee.
When I re-emerge from the undergrowth he is at the front of the house with the GoPro.
‘We ought to shoot some footage.’
‘Do we have to?’ I just want to get on and set up camp for the night.
‘We don’t want to give the fuckers any excuse for reneging on the ten grand they owe us. They might have something in the small print. I wouldn’t put it past them.’
He has a point. I stand with him as he takes a selfie of the pair of us, then films a video, breaking into yet another eloquent commentary. ‘This is our accommodation for day two of being on the run.’ He pans the camera around the room. ‘Not the most salubrious and we probably need to catch a couple of rabbits to knock up a tasty stew but for now we’ve got astronaut rations in silver foil packets, which will have to do. We’ve also got fire and shelter, so it’s over and out for the evening from Team Tomdia.’
‘Did you just say Tomdia? Please don’t ever say that again.’ I shudder as he gives me an unrepentant grin.
‘Okay, how about Lydom? Although, come to think of it, both sound a bit like an STD.’
I glare at him. I would know. Let’s hope he never finds out what Lydia is really short for, I’m sure he’d find it amusing.
An hour later, Tom lifts his enamel cup, toasting me, and then takes a deep, appreciative sniff. ‘Cheers, Lydia. You’re a lifesaver.’
I toast him back and take a sip of the black coffee, basking in his praise.
‘That is bloody marvellous,’ he says with a sigh.
