Part 30 (1/2)

*Yeah.'

*They'll call the search off then, won't they, for the night?'

*I expect so. If Mary and Murtagh are out there together, I expect that's what they're waiting for. Do whatever they're going to do under the cover of darkness.'

*What do you think they'll do?'

*I have no idea.'

*What would you do, Dan?'

I shrugged. *Cry. Call for momma. Incite insurrection amongst the rabbits. I hate to think.'

It was still pretty bright, but Patricia reached up then and pulled the curtains. She s.h.i.+vered.

*That doesn't make it go away, love,' I said.

*I know.'

I gave her a hug. And a kiss.

*What'll we do if they come here in the middle of the night, looking for help?'

*We tell them to f.u.c.k off.'

*We'd have to help, wouldn't we?'

*We'll jump off that bridge when we come to it.'

*So what now?'

I hemmed and hawed. Eventually I said, *How about that pelvic floor?'

31.

There were gunshots during the night. Isolated shouts. Cars roaring along the lane outside.

I was dreaming, of course, and soaked with it. The third time I shouted out Christine's name was enough for Patricia and she kicked me out of the bed with orders to take a shower and rid the demons, except there was no shower so a rub down with a cold flannel had to suffice. After that it was difficult to get back over so we lay in the semi-dark around dawn and bickered over who was taking up too much territory in the bed, all of it carried out in hissing whispers for fear of waking Little Stevie. At some point I asked her if she ever said her prayers, and she told me it was none of my business, which I took for an embarra.s.sed yes.

By seven I was up and tracksuited. It was an old Liverpool Carlsberg tracksuit, and it had never seen a track. But it had seen action on several football pitches, most of them lovingly laid out by groundsmen who must have worked on the Somme. There were several cigarette burns on the sleeves, testament to close encounters with footballers with the same regimented approach to training as my own, and also to the dangers of pa.s.sive smoking.

Before thinking about food I took a turn round the garden, at least those sections accessible to earthbound creatures. It was a bright autumnal morning, with a slight but not unpleasant chill in the air. Around the back, the hedgehog had returned to its box, the floor of which was now packed with leaves. I lifted the grimed saucer out and returned with it to the kitchen and placed some of the remnants of the ham from the previous evening on it. Then I left it back in the box. There was no reaction on the part of the hedgehog. He didn't wave a paw, or wink an eye; he didn't even bristle. Perhaps he found it difficult to express his emotions; possibly he was of English extraction. For a moment I pondered on how I'd come to acquire a pet hedgehog on an island of ten million rabbits, or hares. But not for a very long moment.

I made breakfast a toast, raspberry jam, coffee for Patricia; Diet Pepsi, a Twix for myself, and carried it through on a tray. Little Stevie would be catered for later, wife-willing. Patricia pushed her knuckles into her eyes and gave me a big open-mouthed yawn.

*Och, thanks,' she said. *What's come over you?'

*Making up for the sweats and screams,' I said. *Husbandly duties.'

*Love, honour and raspberry jam.'

*Something like that.'

We ate in silence, thinking our own thoughts.

It had come to me during the night where Murtagh and Mary might be, but I thought it better not to share the information, on the basis that what you don't know can't hurt you, unless you're at a Christian Brothers school.

The bird observatory.

Murtagh had not been able to hide his surprise when I told him about the radio shack up there. He was a prisoner on the island with no means of communicating with the mainland, but if he made it to the birdman's radio then he could summon help. They could be whisked off the island by helicopter. If I was right, then our troubles could soon be over. Once they realised what was going on, they'd have all sorts of police and social workers over. They'd probably take Christine into care.

They wouldn't have attempted a night landing on stormy Wrathlin, so it was all a matter of whether Murtagh and Mary had managed to evade capture until daylight. But it was past breakfast time, and there had been no sound of helicopters. Of course they could just as easily come on a boat. Or the radio could have been broken. Or that might not have been their intention at all.

*Will you stop fidgeting?' Patricia said.

*Sorry.'

*If you can't sit still, why don't you go and find out what's going on?'

I stood up.

*But first you have to help me with the baby.'

I tutted. She looked at me sternly. I withdrew the tut.

An hour and a half later we climbed into the car and drove into town. I was going for fresh bread and gossip. Patricia was going to a women's meeting. I primed her to prise all the information she possibly could out of them, so that later we could combine our findings into a rich rumour stew which, when boiled together, would leave a residue of truth.

Of course, she was used to me talking nonsense.

*It's not that sort of a meeting,' she said.

*You'll chat. Youse 'uns always do. It's in your genes.'

*We won't. We'll be too puffed. It's keep fit. Exercise.'

I shook my head. Snorted. *Jesus. Youse are desperate. Keeping fit while the world goes to pot. It's like Stepford aerobics.'

*Maybe we're just keeping things in perspective, Dan. Besides, there's nothing wrong with keeping fit.'

*Fit to fight the good fight.'

*Whatever you say, Dan.' She tutted. She pulled her T-s.h.i.+rt half up. *You know I've this stomach to lose.'

*What stomach?'

*Dan, please.'