Chapter 12
A loud clap of thunder brought me out of a pleasant dream involving Mark, a large can of whipped cream, and a full suit of armour. I shot up and saw a flash of lightning through the French windows. The wind had also increased, hurling the rain against the glass. Maybe I should have closed the shutters before going to bed.
“Sounds a bit fierce out there,” Mark said sleepily.
“I guess they know how to have thunder storms here.” Usually storms didn’t last too long in Britain. Rain, a few rumbles of thunder, the odd flash of lightning, more rain and it was all over in about ten minutes.
I got up and went into the lounge. There was a huddled mass under the blanket. “Sam?”
“Don’t like it,” a muffled voice said, almost drowned out by another tremendous crash from outside.
“It’s a
