Part 17 (2/2)

He nodded. *Bill.' He reached his hand out to me and we shook. *During the summer I have a couple of a.s.sistants, but the winter I'm here alone. We're not officially open, but I never turn anyone away if they make the effort. You're not a twitcher, then?'

*Sorry?'

*Ornithologist. Bird watcher.'

There were answers to that, but they would take me into Carry On territory and I wasn't in the mood. I shook my head.

*You don't know what you're missing.'

I had a fair idea, actually. Lots of birds.

*Finest breeding colonies in Ireland,' he continued. *Do you know anything about birds?'

I shrugged.

*What would your favourite be?'

*Sparrow. Blackbird. My wife has a lot of experience with thrush.'

If he got it, there was no reaction. *Kittiwakes, guillemots, razorbills, fulmars and puffins . . . oh, it's a sight, it's a sight indeed. Tens of thousands of them, beautiful . . . not so many places like this any more . . .' Bill looked dreamily out of the window. Then abruptly snapped out of it. *Still, no concern of yours, eh . . . what was it, wandered off from the pub?'

*What pub?'

His brow furrowed. *Jack's . . . Jack McGettigan's . . .'

I cleared my throat. *The pub's been closed for months. Drink has been outlawed.'

*Out . . .?' Bill looked at me for several moments as if I was mad. Then he shook his head and said, *Oh dear, oh dear. They really went ahead and did it, did they? Oh my.'

Now that I was a little more settled, I could see that every available s.p.a.ce in the little caravan was stacked with cans of food and bottles of mineral water. *You mustn't get into town much,' I observed.

*No,' Bill said, *nothing much there for me. Used to go for a beer, occasionally, bit of a sing-song, but they stopped that. And then no one seemed to drink any more. I only went for the company, didn't seem much point after that. No, I keep to myself up here, right through to summer. No family, see? Not any more, any rate. I suppose I do get a little out of touch.'

*But you'll know about Christine. The Messiah?'

He laughed. *Oh yes. All that b.l.o.o.d.y nonsense. No time for that, have I? Anyway, I thought it would have all blown over by now, but if they've closed the pub I guess it hasn't.' He sighed. *I don't see anyone now, really, not till summer. There's a radio down in the storeroom, chat with headquarters sometimes, keeps me in touch with the football results on a Sat.u.r.day, but that's about it.'

I looked at my watch. It was a little after 9 p.m. I'd been on the run for less than an hour, although it seemed like seven. I'd not given Patricia any particular time for my return, but with no pub on the island to distract me she would probably be concerned by my failure to return. I didn't mind that. What I did mind was her going to Moira's looking for me and Moira letting something slip. Or Christine. I s.h.i.+vered.

*What you need,' the warden was saying, *is a hot whiskey.'

I looked up, smiling.

*It's a pity I don't . . .' At that moment the caravan moved. Just slightly. *. . . have any.'

We looked at each other. I could tell by the surprise on his face that it wasn't a regular occurrence.

*Wind must get pretty wild round here,' I said.

The caravan moved again.

*You must have it pretty securely anch.o.r.ed,' I said, *with that strong a wind.'

He was nodding, but it was not a confident nod. His hands were gripping the table. *The thing is,' he said, *the wind's blowing in the other direction.'

There were voices outside. Then the caravan gave a ma.s.sive s.h.i.+ft forward, throwing us both out of our seats.

Then we were moving downhill at speed. Somewhere in the background I heard excited yells. And somewhere ahead of us, and getting closer, there was a very tall cliff, an angry sea and some very sharp rocks.

19.

As we trundled towards the edge of the cliff and the three-hundred-foot drop to death, I had one of those moments of frightening clarity with which I was becoming increasingly familiar. I looked at Bill beside me, helpless on the grimy birds.h.i.+t-spattered floor of the caravan, and said, *You used to be in The Goodies. You're Bill Oddie.'

*This isn't the time!'

*I know, I've seen the repeats.'

For the second time in a couple of minutes he looked at me like I was mad. I could have explained to him about defence mechanisms and the trouble they'd gotten me into, but he was right, this wasn't the time. He had been a television comedy star in a previous incarnation, but now he was just a bird warden scrabbling along the floor in a desperate attempt to get to the door of a caravan moving at speed towards disaster. Every time we hit a rock it threw the front of the caravan up in the air, and him back towards me. I tried myself, with no better results.

And then it was too late.

We struck something solid, we were tossed forward and then the whole caravan was over the edge and falling. We both smacked into the gla.s.s at the front with five hundred cans of food for company.

Remarkably, the gla.s.s held.

Big deal as we . . .

Then there was a sudden jolt and we stopped dead in the air . . .

No, not dead . . .

Swinging.

Back and forwards, like the pendulum on a grandfather clock.

Bill was clutching the back of his head where he'd cracked it on the gla.s.s. He groaned and moaned, *What's . . . what're we . . .'

I stared at the water barking and biting far below. It was almost hypnotic. *The answer, my friend,' I said slowly, *is blowing in the wind.'

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