drop me off—’ Looking down, she realized she couldn’t see Little Hollow. It had disappeared beneath the water. ‘Oh my God.’
‘You’re coming home,’ said Valent firmly.
Mop Idol had lit a fire in a spare bedroom. Valent had buzzed off to Throstledown to reassure himself and Etta that Wilkie was all right. He returned with Priceless, who, having done nothing but eat Painswick’s shortbread all afternoon and run down the hill to Wilkie, had collapsed exhausted on the bed. Valent had unaccountably disappeared again.
Etta, slowly coming to the realization how near death she had been, was distraught about Gwenny.
‘I must go and look for her.’
Mop Idol, who hadn’t been to the races, persuaded her not to. ‘We don’t want you to suffer from hypothermia, you’re exhausted. Mr Edwards insisted you rest and it’s more than my part-time job’s worth. Cats have nine lives, Gwenny’ll turn up.’
‘She’ll die like the first Gwendolyn,’ wept Etta.
After a boiling bath, she found a beautiful pale pink silk short nightie and dressing gown laid out.
‘That’s Bonny’s,’ cried Etta in embarrassment.
‘Doesn’t matter. She’s got too many clothes. Mr Edwards insisted you put them on and got this down you,’ said Mop Idol, marching in with a bowl of game soup and a very large brandy.
‘You are kind.’
Etta had nearly cried herself to sleep when a dripping Valent, his hair falling in wet black tendrils over his forehead, marched in and dropped an exhausted Gwenny on her pillow.
Dried off, her black fur flattened, Gwenny looked half her normal size but was purring twice as loudly.
‘Oh thank you, thank you, how did you find her?’ mumbled Etta. ‘You must get out of those wet things.’
Was she dreaming or did Valent really take her hand, muttering, ‘Oh Etta, thank God you’re safe. I lost Pauline. I couldn’t have borne it if I’d lost you.’
Then, dropping a kiss on her forehead, he was gone.
107
Etta was woken by Priceless squeaking to go out and Mop Idol bearing a cup of tea and full of gossip. Mr Edwards had flown to London to avoid the press, the ones who got through the flood, who were hanging around outside.
‘They want to interview you. Mail ’s got the story.’ She handed the paper to Etta.
Page one concentrated on general flood devastation. On page three, under the huge headline GALLANT EDWARDS, was a picture of Valent, Etta and Mrs Wilkinson taken when he’d rolled up and turned the court case. The piece described how he had flown back from the races and saved Etta and the famous Mrs Wilkinson from drowning. He was quoted as saying how brave Etta and Woody had been and how Etta had nearly been killed leaping into the water to save Wilkie, but how in the end Wilkie, showing typical resilience and guts, had saved herself.
‘They want to interview you and Gwenny,’ said Mop Idol.
‘Oh dear,’ said Etta.
As Mop Idol sat down on the bed, Etta thought how pretty and merry she was despite working so hard and felt sad that Joey was messing around with Chrissie.
‘The top of the village has no water, and neat sewage and used tampons are flowing down the high street.’ Mop Idol shuddered. ‘The stink’s horrible. The Major’s gone berserk because abandoned cars all over the place are holding up the traffic.
‘Repulsive Harvey-Holden’s gloating because his yard’s so high up he hasn’t been touched by the floods, but everyone else has. The Salix Estate has got water up to the skirting boards, and the vicar and Tilda Flood and the school have all been flooded. Parents had to paddle across the high street to collect their kids yesterday.
‘Mr Pocock was flooded. He was brilliant, he built a wooden barrier to put at the bottom of Miss Painswick’s drive, stopped the water pouring in.’
Contributing to Mop Idol’s good cheer was the fact that her own ground floor had been flooded out, which meant the council providing her and Joey with nice new carpets and a new kitchen.
‘The Major and Debbie’s garden’s been flooded. Angela Rippons and Alan Titchmarshes not eaten by Chisolm were up to their necks, all the goldfish in the pond swept away. Serve the Major right for not opposing Bolton’s moat,’ said Mop Idol. ‘Bet his rain gauge has overflowed.
‘I ended up in the Fox last night, and Chris said the only funny moment was when Cindy Bolton boasted her Chelsea tractor could cope with any flood. She drove off down the high street and disappeared totally under water. Pity the Major wasn’t