“Lori!” cried Peter. He hopped down from his perch and enveloped me, oversized day pack and all, in a hug. “I’m so glad to see you! I can’t believe you’re here. It’s magic, isn’t it? I’m sorry I knocked the tea into your lap, but I had to do something. I saw that you’d recognized me, and I was terrified that you’d call out my name.”
“It’s great to see you, too, Peter.” I stepped back to take a good look at him, for his parents’ sake. He was a handsome young devil, even taller than Bill, trim, fit, and glowing with vibrant good health. Although he was still dressed in the guise of a bird-watcher, he’d removed his black-framed glasses, so it was easier to see the strikingly beautiful cobalt-blue eyes he’d inherited from his father. “Is it my imagination, or have you grown since I last saw you?”
“Two inches,” he acknowledged. “But I think I’m finished now.”
“Good,” I said. “Any more would just be showing off.”
“But what are you doing here, Lori?” Peter exclaimed. “Are you on holiday? Is Bill here? Are the twins?”
“Forget it,” I said, wagging a finger at him. “You don’t get to ask any questions until you’ve answered mine . . . Harry.” I looked past him at the young woman, who’d climbed down from the flat-topped boulder and walked over to stand behind him. “Is your name Cassie, or do we need to be reintroduced?”
“Yes to both questions, I’m afraid,” she replied with a wry smile. “It’s a rather complicated story.”
“Damian and I have all day.” I reached back to pat my day pack. “And we’ve brought enough food for lunch, tea, and dinner. The cook at the castle doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘moderation. ’”
After a brief exchange of greetings, Damian stood back to study his new subjects and, as always, to keep an eye on our surroundings.
“You’ve chosen a good spot for our rendezvous, Peter,” I said. “Lots of birds for us to watch and no people around to watch us.”
“It’s historical as well.” Peter strolled over to lay a hand on the flat-topped boulder he and Cassie had just vacated. “This, my friends, is known as the Slaughter Stone.”
“Charming,” I said, eyeing the boulder doubtfully.
“Historically significant,” Peter corrected. “The pre-Christian residents of Erinskil used to come up here and sacrifice . . . well, one hopes they sacrificed animals as opposed to fellow pre-Christians, but no one knows for certain. At any rate, they made their sacrifices on the stone and chucked the carcasses into the sea.”
“How efficient,” I said, retreating a step.
“Who told you about the Slaughter Stone?” Damian asked.
“Our landlady,” Peter replied. “Mrs. Muggoch heard me telling you where to meet us and volunteered the gory story. You see the gutters?” He ran his fingers along four faint grooves at the front edge of the boulder. “Designed for the convenient drainage of sacrificial blood.”
“Good grief, Peter,” I said, grimacing. “You were sitting there.”
“I don’t think it’s been used recently.” Peter drew a fingertip along one of the gutters, then raised it for me to examine. “You see? Spotless. But don’t worry, Lori, I won’t make you sit there. The overlook is a bit too exposed for comfortable conversation. Cassie and I have found a better spot, a pleasant little nook the wind can’t reach.”
“Before we go, however . . .” Cassie pulled two pairs of binoculars from her anorak’s cargo pockets. She hung one pair around Damian’s neck and the other around mine, as if she were presenting us with leis. “For verisimilitude,” she explained, “on the off chance that an islander happens by. We’re supposed to be bird-watching, after all, and we’d rather not give the game away until we have to.”
“Now we’re all in disguise,” I said, fingering the binoculars. “Wish I’d brought my false mustache.”
“It wouldn’t suit you,” said Peter, laughing.
Damian and I followed the young pair as they scrambled over the Slaughter Stone, climbed halfway up the rockfall, and dropped down onto a circular swath of turf enclosed by boulders. Peter spread a waterproof groundsheet on the damp turf, and we sat facing each other, with our backs to the boulders and our day packs resting by our sides. Apart from the odd gull passing overhead, we were alone.
“Before you get started,” I said, “I should tell you that my friend Damian has serious doubts about you. He’s convinced that you’re a pair of master criminals hiding out from the law.”
“Are you really?” said Peter, beaming delightedly at Damian.
“Lori exaggerates,” Damian said repressively. “But I am curious to know the reason for your charade. And I’d be grateful to you if you’d explain what you’re doing on Erinskil.”