“Great landing,” I said.
“It was rather good, wasn’t it?” As he stowed our headsets and helped the boys undo their safety belts, he added over his shoulder, “Glad you’re not a nervous Nelly. Some people go all to pieces during the final descent.”
“Do they?” I said airily. “I can’t imagine why.”
Sir Percy dumped the remnants of the twins’ snacks into a garbage bag and paused to admire their artwork before putting sketch pads, crayons, and binoculars back into the red plastic boxes, which he presented to them. While he retrieved my carry-on bag from a rear compartment, Atkinson opened the helicopter’s exit door, unfolded the steps, and stood by to help the twins and me climb down.
I’d seldom been happier to feel solid concrete beneath my feet, but I didn’t have a chance to kiss the helipad. Atkinson unloaded our suitcases at top speed and carried them through a gap in the berm, then climbed back into the helicopter, pulled the steps up, and closed the door behind him. Sir Percy promptly hustled us through the gap, paused, and swung around to salute Atkinson as the helicopter’s blades began to turn.
“Where’s Atkinson going?” Will asked, as the helicopter soared skyward.
“To the mainland, old son,” said Sir Percy. “We can’t keep the chopper here for any length of time, unfortunately. The winds can get pretty ferocious. But Atkinson’s only a phone call away, weather permitting. Come along, now. . . .”
Sir Percy ushered us out of the landing area and into a strange little vehicle into which Atkinson had already loaded our luggage. The vehicle looked like a cross between a golf cart, a Jeep, and a grape. Its roof and chassis were painted a bright, metallic purple, and its windows were slightly convex, like bugs’ eyes. Sir Percy pushed a button on the dashboard to start it, and when he put his foot on the accelerator, the engine produced only a faint hum.
“Electric,” he said proudly. “Designed it myself. Too flimsy for the Peking-to-Paris race, but just the ticket for short hops on the island. On we go!”
We bumped along the unpaved track from the landing pad to the castle, and as we approached the gatehouse, Sir Percy pushed another button on the dashboard and the iron-banded wooden gate blocking the entrance slid up and out of our way as easily as if it had been an automatic garage door.
“Good, eh? Designed it myself,” said Sir Percy, pointing to the gate as we passed beneath it. “It’s a type of plastic—stronger, lighter, more fireproof, and less prone to rot than wood. But it looks the part, doesn’t it?”
Sir Percy parked the purple car in the courtyard and told me not to bother with the luggage.
“My housekeeper will see to it,” he said, and turned to the boys. “Sorry, chaps, but I have no ponies to offer you. There haven’t been horses on Erinskil since before the war.You’ll have to use your feet while you’re on the island.”
Will and Rob favored the grape car with speculative glances, and I made a mental note to ask Sir Percy to lock it up. It was too easy to imagine the thrilling adventures my sons would have, joyriding in a push-button car.
The courtyard was paved in gray flagstone and decorated with a menagerie of gargoyles that won the twins’ devoted admiration.Will and Rob spun in circles, trying to decide which grotesque beast they liked best as Sir Percy led us to the staircase of the U-shaped building’s central block. He sprinted ahead of us up the broad stone stairs, pushed open the pair of studded wooden doors, and stood aside while we filed past him into an entrance hall that looked as though it hadn’t changed much since the Dark Ages.
Everything seemed to be made out of dull gray stone—the floor, the walls, the staircase that rose from the center of the hall to the upper stories. Sunlight filtered dimly through a stained-glass window at the staircase’s first landing, illuminating the few things that weren’t made from stone: two tarnished suits of armor, a few pieces of ponderous wooden furniture, and tapestry drapes behind which, I imagined, there would be dim passages leading to other parts of the castle. The overall effect was gray, grim, and distinctly chilly. When Sir Percy closed the studded doors behind us, I had the queer feeling that he was sealing us into a tomb.