“Oh.” Harold stared out of the front room window. The street was awash with rain, the drops more like stair rods against the sulphurous yellow street lights. “It's raining buckets out there.”
“It never rains but it pours.” Ada bustled into the kitchen and pulled a plastic bag out of a drawer. She thrust the library book inside and handed it to Gillian. “There, love, I can trust you with it.”
“I like that.” Harold was pulling on a raincoat from the cupboard under the stairs. It had been a while since he'd worn it and it hung off him like a sheet over a dog. “I think I've lost a few pounds since I wore this.”
“You're wasting away.” Ada clucked round him in the crowded hall. Jasfoup took a step back, his outstretched arm forcing Dill further, too. “Raise your arms so I can put the belt through.”
Harold did as he was told, offering an apologetic smile to the others. Gillian, meanwhile, had dressed Lucy in her coat and fished Harold's cagoul out of the cupboard. It had been a few years since he'd worn that, too. The last time had been a walking and camping holiday with the lads from the Rambling Poets when he was at university. It fitted easily over both vampire and child.
“What about us?” Dill looked at Harold and Gillian, who looked able to survive an arctic prison, let alone a Wiltshire rainstorm. Ada handed him another plastic bag. “Here you go love. You can use it as a hat of carry your ears in it.”