Liam nodded. “Aye, do. I know it’s only a wee thing, but it might be useful to cart stuff up. The Beacon Hall has been opened up for people who can’t get home, so we’re moving everyone in there. There’s heat and light at least. For the moment.”

As I hurried off to the car he called after me, “Just don’t go too close to the river or you’ll get stuck. Park on past the supermarket. We’ll see you down there.”

I ran to the car and drove down the hill. It didn’t take long to see what was happening; as Phyllis said, the river had completely burst its banks. The road was submerged on both sides and the bridge emerged from the flood as if from some large lake. The supermarket car park was awash; curb stones, forced up as if by an earthquake, floated in the murky brown water, and trolleys bobbed about like pleasure boats.

I did as Liam had suggested and parked on higher ground, at what I regarded was a safe distance, and I stuffed my trousers into my boots before getting out of the car: they were wet anyway but I could do without them flapping around my ankles.

And I joined the group heading towards the flood. A pretty terrace of houses faced the river; it was somewhere I’d always thought would be a lovely place to live, but now they were in trouble. The residents had tried to protect themselves; there were sandbags everywhere, but when the river had burst its banks, they hadn’t made a damn bit of difference. Their front gardens were under at least a meter of water, pouring through the letterboxes in some.

In a field to the left, white spots bobbed about like fairy lights at a garden party. I found myself rooted to the spot, trying to work out what they were, until Liam appeared beside me. “They’re cars from the garage.”

I turned. “What?”

“Cars. They’re floating in that field. The lights go on when the alarms go off.”

“You’re kidding. Are they okay like that?”

He shook his head. “There’s a real danger they’ll end up down the river but there’s not much we can do about it. For the moment this is more important.”

He nudged me towards the terrace, and I went with him. Seconds later Phyllis appeared.

It was a shocking sight; filthy water poured freely into kitchens, sitting rooms and garages while people were helped through their windows, laden down with bags and clothes and books, pillows and pictures and pets. Members of the Fire Service carried older people in their arms and on their shoulders, and a man with a tractor and trailer gave people lifts through the water. In places where people attempted to wade, the water was up to their thighs. Children were carried too; some cried with fear, others laughed with excitement, completely different responses to the same predicament. I saw dogs and cats and guinea pigs, and two goldfish in a tank which floated upright through the chaos.