The rain got worse when they were outside. What had begun as light, misty rain now sheeted down so fast it was like a thousand incarnations of Anubis were marking Laverstone as their own. Thunder rumbled in the distance and the clouds were occasionally back-lit by flashes of lightning. The streets hissed and gurgled as hundreds of gallons fought for access to the drains.
Harold had the foresight to borrow an umbrella from his mum (borrow being the kindest word, since they both knew she'd never get it back) and the oversized cagoul Gillian had borrowed (with every intention of returning it) kept both herself and Lucy rain-free. Jasfoup, as usual, walked along perfectly dry, since the rain evaporated a inch or so from ever touching his body.
Dill trudged along in the rain, just grateful his dustbin liners and Tesco hat kept off the worst of it.
They'd reached the end of the terrace and turned right toward the town centre when Gillian suddenly asked: “Why didn't we take the van?”