We were struck by lightening!
Saturday 26th April 2008
The wind howled around the house and the rain battered the windows so hard, I could barely hear myself think.
'I'm scared, Mummy,' my daughter, Megan, 9, whispered from behind her hands.
'Don't be, sweetheart,' I said, hugging her. 'The storm will be over soon.'
It was the morning of Monday 10 March, and the weather was so bad, Megan and my other two daughters, Jodie, 16, and Shannon, 12, had been sent home when their schools had been closed due to the high winds. So, with my husband, Pete, 39, at work, and me looking after Megan's friend, Leah, 9, while her parents, Brenda and Paul Furlong, were at work, I tried to get on with some housework.
'Right,' I said. 'I'm going to do the ironing. Jodie, you need to tidy your room. Then we'll think about what to do for the rest of the day.'
So, Jodie traipsed upstairs, with Shannon following, I got out the ironing board, and Megan and Leah settled down in front of the telly. I'd just started the ironing, when I heard a shrill noise.
'Mum,' Jodie called downstairs. 'The car alarm's going off.'
I went into the hall just as she and Shannon came running down.
'I expect the wind set it…'
I started to say, just as there was the most almighty bang.
The house started to shake, and pictures fell off the walls. I could hear tiles falling off the roof and smashing onto the ground outside. Suddenly, we were blinded by a bright blue light. As it ripped through the house, I could feel heat coming from it, and it was so bright, it made my eyes sting. What on earth…?
Then, just as quickly as it had come, the light vanished.
'Jodie! Shannon!' I screamed, as a huge ripping sound deafened me.
The air filled with dust, then there was another crash, a loud, splintering sound, and the whole house started to shudder.
'Run!' I screamed, looking up to see the ceiling caving in.
Shoving Jodie and Shannon out of the front door, I rushed into the living room for Megan and Leah.
'We have to get out,' I ordered, pushing them out of the door to where the other girls were waiting in the garden.
'What happened?' Megan whimpered.
'I don't know, love,' I panted, grabbing her hand and tearing down the path.
Our neighbour, Irene Lonsdale, 70, was running across the road towards us.
'Are you all right?' she gasped.
'I don't know,' I gulped.
'Lightning hit your chimney,' she told me. 'It's taken out all the electricity in the street, too.'
My stomach lurched. Just moments before, I'd been doing the ironing. I could have been killed.Turning back to look at the house, my heart sank. The upstairs had completely caved in. Flames and smoke were pouring out.
'My home,' I whispered, in tears.
'Come inside,' Irene urged. 'You can't do anything out in the rain.'
Irene, the girls and I ran across the road to her house, where I dialled 999, then rang Pete.
'The house is on fire,' I said, as calmly as I could.
'I'm on my way,' he replied.
In complete disbelief, I looked over at the burning shell of our house.
'Everything we've worked for is in there,' I cried. 'Our photos, the girls' baby clothes, their first teeth…'
Minutes later, the fire brigade arrived, with Pete right behind.
'Are you OK?' he asked, hugging me.
'Just about,' I nodded.
Then it dawned on me. If Shannon and Jodie hadn't come down to tell me my car alarm was going off…
It didn't bear thinking about.
'They could have died,' I wept.
'But you're all OK,' Pete reassured me.
An ambulance arrived and the paramedics gave us the once-over, then we watched as firefighters battled to put out the flames. It took them until four o'clock that afternoon to put out the fire — six hours after the lightning hit.
By then, Leah's mum had come to take her home and we'd arranged to spend the night with Jodie's boyfriend Daniel's parents, Theresa and Stafford Halcham, who lived just down the road. The following day, Pete rang the insurance company, and we moved into a rented house nearby. Everyone on our street rallied round, donating furniture and clothes. But, despite their kindness, going back to the house was heartbreaking. There was water everywhere. The fire crew had saved most of the photographs from the walls in the downstairs rooms. But apart from that, there was nothing else we could salvage.
'Who needs things when we have each other?' Pete said.
I squeezed his hand.
'You're right,' I replied. 'We're all alive, and that's all that matters.'
A month on, the house is covered in scaffolding and work is in full flow. We should be living there again in about a year. We might have to start our lives from scratch — but at least we still have our lives. And, bizarrely, it's all thanks to my car alarm.
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