“We didn’t know what to do,” said Cassie. “We considered giving an interview, but we knew that whatever we said would be twisted beyond recognition, so we decided instead to run for it. Jocelyn Withers, our boss, was incredibly understanding. He smuggled us to the mainland on a supply boat, and we spent a day there, kitting ourselves out as bird-watchers.”
“Cassie dyed her lovely blond hair brown,” said Peter, casting a fond look in Cassie’s direction, “and I purchased my horrible specs. Cassandra Thorpe-Lynton became Cassie Lynton, Peter Harris became Harry Peters, and we boarded the ferry for Erinskil.”
“Why Erinskil?” Damian inquired.
“We’d heard that it was friendly to bird-watchers,” Cassie replied, “but that it didn’t attract many casual tourists.We hoped we could hide out here for a week or two without being recognized.”
“Once the paparazzi give up on us—or a gale sinks their blasted boats—we’ll return to the observatory and continue our work unmolested.” Peter straightened his legs and leaned back against his boulder. “There you have it, the whole absurd story. I don’t mind telling you, Lori, that it gave me a very nasty turn to see you in the pub.”
“I didn’t recognize you at first,” I admitted, “and when I did, you managed to shut me up pretty effectively.”
“Sorry about that,” said Peter, “but I couldn’t let you call out my real name. We’ve been lucky so far. No one on Erinskil has connected us to the tabloid stories, and no reporters have come hunting for us.”
“I won’t give you away,” I assured him.
“Nor shall I,” said Damian.
“Never crossed my mind that you would,” said Peter.
“Do Emma and Derek know you’re here?” I asked.
Peter nodded. “I rang Mum and Dad as soon as we boarded the ferry. Cassie rang her parents, too. We’ve sworn them to secrecy, of course, but we didn’t want them to worry.”
I reached over to pat Peter’s boot. “I hope my sons grow up to be just like you, Peter—thoughtful, considerate, kind to their parents.You really are the hope for Britain’s future.”
“Don’t you start,” Peter pleaded, wincing. “I don’t want to be anyone’s poster child. The hours are terrible and the rewards, nonexistent.” He eyed our day packs with sudden interest. “I know it’s a bit early for lunch, but I could do with a midmorning snack. It’s hungry work, recounting our misadventures.”
I opened my pack and handed out sandwiches while Damian pulled the large thermos from his and poured hot tea for four. Cook had outdone herself. The sandwiches weren’t the dainty wafers she produced for tea but thick, hearty slabs of fresh-baked bread filled with smoked ham, nutty cheese, and cold chicken. No one wanted caviar, but the homemade pickles and chutney were a welcome addition to the meal.
I split a giant sandwich with Damian while Peter and Cassie consumed one apiece, made a serious dent in the chutney, and emptied the pickle jar.
“Isn’t Mrs. Muggoch feeding you?” I asked.
“Not enough,” said Peter, swallowing manfully. “Cassie and I have been hiking all over the island since we arrived. Our appetites have exploded.”
I kept the tea flowing while they demolished their midmorning snack, but Damian left the sheltered circle of turf to survey the sunken path and the overlook. He returned shortly thereafter to report, quite literally, that the coast was clear.
After forty minutes’ steady gorging, Peter and Cassie were replete. They helped me gather the sandwich wrappings and tuck them into my day pack, then leaned back against their boulders with contented sighs.
“Now that we’ve satisfied your curiosity,” said Peter, “it’s your turn to satisfy ours.What brings you to Erinskil, Lori?”
The sunny day seemed to darken. The cool air seemed to grow cold.The sound of the crashing surf was suddenly loud in my ears, and the screams of the hovering gulls became harsh and eerie. I’d enjoyed a brief respite from fear, but it was back again, closing its clammy hand around my heart.
“Lori?” Peter said encouragingly. “Are you on holiday?”
“Not even remotely,” I said, and told him everything. If Damian had voiced an objection, I would have talked over him. I had no choice but to tell Peter the truth. He knew me so well that he would have spotted a lie the moment it passed my lips.
“Oh, Lori . . .” Peter said in a hushed voice when I’d finished. He’d drawn his knees to his chest again and leaned over them, taut with concern. “I’m so sorry.You must be going through hell.”
“Only when I let myself think about it,” I said with a weak smile.
“Is there anything we can do?” Cassie asked.
“Yes,” Damian cut in. “You can keep your eyes open and your mouths shut.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Peter snapped. His grandfather’s fiery temper blazed suddenly in his blue eyes. “Lives are at stake. Do you think we’d take something like that lightly?”
“No,” said Damian, chastened. “Of course you wouldn’t. I apologize.”