The Weekend Escape, page 4
‘Because your gut’s full of shit.’ Lyndsey trudged out of the small garden and followed a vague path around the side of the building. ‘Besides, we couldn’t say no. Juliet’s going through a rough time.’
Sonia rolled her eyes. ‘And doesn’t she like to remind us of it. How long do we have to keep humouring her?’
‘Don’t be awful. It’s only been a month. You can’t expect her to bounce back that quickly from a break-up. Especially after what he put her through.’
Sonia hunched her shoulders. ‘Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry. I just…’ She sighed heavily. ‘I’ve got a lot going on at home. Stuff I should be there for.’
‘Oh?’
Sonia shook her head. ‘Never mind. Point is, you’re right. I shouldn’t take it out on Juliet. I owe her more than that. Even if it is her fault we’re weekending in an unheated shack.’
At the back of the building were several ramshackle stone structures, which had originally been designed as sheds or outhouses. Two had no roofs. A third had collapsed in on itself, its remains tangled with brambles and gorse. Two other stone sheds, up against the back wall of the bunkhouse, looked more intact, although their roofs had lost several slates. A creeping vine of some kind had grown thickly around one corner. These two buildings had their wooden doors more or less intact.
‘In here, do you think?’ Lyndsey asked. She tried the latch of the first door. It wasn’t locked, but the hinges stuck. With a bit of force, she got it open.
Inside was a disordered mess of old tins of whitewash, rolls of netting, some very rusty gardening tools, shelves of mouldering packets and boxes with worn labels, and a pervasive smell of neglect. There was nothing that looked remotely like a generator.
Sonia was having a go at getting into the second shed, but the door was in even worse shape than the first. No amount of pushing and shoving could get it to budge.
‘This is stupid,’ Sonia complained. ‘It’d be easier to kick a hole in it.’
‘Why is that your go-to option?’ Lyndsey took a step back and looked at the shed roof. ‘I don’t think the generator can be in here. Look at the state of the roof. It’s probably been leaking for years. If you were going to put an important electrical item somewhere, it wouldn’t be in here.’
Sonia stuck her head through the open door of the first shed. ‘Urgh, I knew it,’ she said. ‘They’ve got a rodent problem. I smelled it as soon as we walked in.’ She indicated the boxes that lined the shelves. Although most of the labels were faded, the skull-and-crossbones warning sign was still visible on a bunch of them.
A voice behind Lyndsey said, ‘Something I can help you with?’
Lyndsey spun around. A woman had appeared at the boundary wall into the next field. She was bundled up in a sensible waterproof jacket, cargo pants, and wellies, all a uniform drab green in colour. Her hat and scarf hid her face.
‘Who’re you?’ Sonia demanded.
‘My name’s Marne,’ the woman said. She tugged down the scarf to reveal a tanned, freckled face. ‘I’m the bird warden here. You must be my visitors for the weekend.’ She came around the wall to reach them. ‘Found the key all right, did you? Sorry I wasn’t here to let you in myself.’
There was the edge of a Scouse accent to her voice. She offered her hand to shake. Lyndsey automatically took it. The woman had a firm grip to match her no-nonsense smile. She wasn’t at all what Lyndsey had pictured when Juliet had said there was a bird warden who lived on the island for six months of the year. For a start, she looked too young – certainly no more than early thirties, just a few years older than Lyndsey herself.
‘Where have you been?’ Sonia wanted to know.
The warden, Marne, was taken aback by her tone. ‘I had to take down the blinds on the hill. Took me all morning.’
‘Blinds?’
‘Bird traps. Not the way you’re thinking,’ Marne added quickly as she saw the look on Lyndsey’s face. ‘We string up nets to catch the migrating birds, then we bag and tag them, and let them go. It doesn’t hurt them.’
Lyndsey thought of the nets strewn across the garden. She’d vaguely assumed they were for fishing.
‘We don’t leave the blinds up when bad weather’s coming in,’ Marne said. ‘For starters, the wind could carry them away. Plus, I don’t know for definite that I’ll be able to get out tomorrow to check the nets. I wouldn’t want a bunch of birds left tangled up for that long in rough weather.’
‘Look, never mind that,’ Sonia said. ‘We need to use your radio.’
‘The radio? What for?’
‘Our friend had a fall,’ Lyndsey said. ‘She’s hurt her leg, and maybe her ribs. We need to radio the mainland and get the coastguard.’
‘Where is she?’ Marne asked with concern.
‘We got her to the bunkhouse. I know we shouldn’t have moved her, but—’
‘It’s probably sensible, with the weather coming down.’ Marne nodded, relieved. ‘I’d hate to think of anybody getting stuck outside. Do you want me to take a look at her? When I’m not here on the island, I work in a hospital, so I’ve got a bit of training.’
‘Can we use your radio?’ Sonia pressed. ‘It’s an emergency.’
‘We can give it a go.’ All of a sudden, Marne looked evasive. ‘It’s in the observatory.’
She led the way back around the building. The wind buffeted all three of them, and shook the tops of the trees. The rain was increasing from the earlier damp drizzle. Lyndsey quickened her step, eager to be indoors.
‘What were you looking for in the sheds?’ Marne asked.
‘Oh. We couldn’t figure out how to turn on the electricity,’ Lyndsey said. ‘We thought there might be a generator?’
‘There is, yes. It’s in a bunker at the side of the house. There are a set of switches to get it working, but you would’ve needed the key to get access. Sorry, I meant to do it earlier. Get the place warmed up for you. But I was out on the hills for longer than expected.’
‘Are you the only person who lives here?’
‘Usually there are two research assistants as well. They both had to leave early this season, though. Personal reasons. Shame for them.’
‘Don’t you mind being here alone?’
‘Can’t say it’s too onerous. I do my best work when I’m solo.’ Marne reached the door of the building next to the bunkhouse and unlocked it. ‘Although it’s a pain when I need more than one pair of hands. But I can manage for a few months at a time. I go back home for the winter months anyway. My contract’s only for the season, when the birds are migrating and nesting.’
Inside, there was a strange combination of smells – oil and wood-glue and burnt electrics and, for some reason, patchouli. It brought back sharp memories of the Design and Technology classrooms at school.
The downstairs level of Marne’s home was smaller than the bunkhouse, and significantly more disordered. The main room, off to their right, was cramped with tables and workbenches, all piled with papers, books, and equipment. More rolls of netting were stacked in the corners. Directly in front of the front door, narrow stairs led up to the second floor. It was slightly warmer than the bunkhouse, but not by much.
Marne led them through a doorway to the left, into what looked like a workroom. There was more clutter here, but one workbench was neat and tidy, with a variety of instruments used for delicate weighing and measuring. A roll of tiny metal tags, like the ones Lyndsey had sometimes seen around the ankles of seabirds, hung from a hook above the bench.
The lights were off in there as well, so Marne quickly lit a hurricane lamp, adding the sharp smell of paraffin to the air. She took off her hat and scarf, revealing mousy brown hair worn in a short, functional plait. Her freckles extended down to the rolled neck of her jumper.
‘Now, the thing is,’ Marne said, ‘we don’t usually have cause to use the radio much. We’re supposed to check in with the mainland once a week, but—’
Lyndsey spotted a large, square object by the window that could’ve been a radio. It resembled something a switchboard operator from the 1950s would use. Its front was covered in knobs and dials and switches. It looked intimidating and unintuitive.
Sonia went straight to the radio. ‘How do you switch it on?’ She tapped a light on the front, labelled POWER, which was dark.
‘There’s a switch on the side. But—’
Sonia flipped the switch, waited, then tried it a couple more times. Nothing obvious happened. ‘Is it because the electricity’s not on?’ she asked.
‘No, it’s got a back-up battery. The thing is—’ Marne looked sheepish. ‘It’s been playing up these past few weeks,’ she admitted. ‘Sometimes it’s a little slow to warm up. And other times…’
‘Other times what?’
‘Sometimes it doesn’t turn on at all.’ Marne lifted her hands in a weak shrug.
‘What does that mean?’ Sonia demanded.
‘I-I’ve been tinkering with it.’ Marne made a half-hearted gesture towards the workbench next to the radio. A number of unidentifiable electronic parts were laid out on a sheet of newspaper. ‘Don’t know what’s wrong with the stupid thing. I’ve taken it apart and cleaned it – that usually does the trick – but no joy so far.’
‘Why would you take it apart?’
‘It comes and goes,’ Marne said defensively. ‘Sometimes it’s right as rain; sometimes it claps out for no reason. It’s the same with everything here. There isn’t a piece of equipment in this house that I haven’t had to take apart at some point or another. Anyway, I’ve ordered a replacement part from the mainland for the radio, and usually I can botch it back into working order, if it’s an emergency.’
‘This is definitely an emergency,’ Sonia said.
Lyndsey asked Marne, ‘What back-up do you have, if the radio isn’t working?’
‘Back-up?’
‘Yeah, you have like a–a failsafe or something, right? Some other way to contact the mainland?’
‘Well … no.’
‘No?’ Sonia’s eyes widened, incredulously. ‘None at all?’
‘We’re only a mile and a half offshore. I’m usually the only one here. What’s likely to happen that’d be that big of an emergency?’
Sonia stalked towards her. ‘Our friend pitched off the lighthouse. She needs to get to the hospital. Not in two days, not in five hours, now. Do you understand?’
Marne blinked at the force of the words. Then she seemed to break out of her stupor. ‘I’ll get the radio working,’ she said.
Chapter Four
FRIDAY
12:35pm
Before she started on the radio, Marne quickly showed Lyndsey the waterproof box affixed to the side wall of the bunkhouse, where the master switches for the electricity and heating were housed. Lyndsey had walked right past it earlier and paid it no attention, because it was obviously too small to house a generator. Marne unlocked the box with a key from a bundle she carried in her pocket.
‘The generator’s over there,’ Marne said, with a nod of her head towards a wooden bunker set a little way apart from the building, with a tarpaulin thrown over it. ‘You’ll definitely hear it when it starts up, even if you’re inside the bunkhouse. It’s set to turn itself on automatically, for an hour in the morning and two hours in the evening. There’ll be enough charge in the storage batteries to keep you going the rest of the time, but don’t be wasteful, yeah? Don’t leave lights on if you don’t need to.’
Sonia kept her distance during this exchange. She huddled near the back wall with her hand cupped around a cigarette, a thunderous expression on her face. The collar of her red jacket was pulled up around her chin.
When Marne flipped the master switches, the generator, hidden in its wooden bunker, rumbled into life. There was an audible cheer from inside the bunkhouse.
‘There.’ Marne closed and latched the waterproof box. ‘Place should start to warm up nicely. You get yourself inside. Weather’s going to turn a tad breezy this afternoon.’
Lyndsey looked at the grey sky. ‘It won’t get that bad, will it? The forecast said—’
‘The forecast says lots of things.’ Marne smiled, showing uneven front teeth. ‘Trust me, if you live here for any amount of time, you learn to read the weather better than anyone. It’s going to get a bit wild for the next couple of days.’
Lyndsey frowned. ‘How wild?’
‘Ah, y’know,’ Marne said with a shrug. ‘Nothing we can’t cope with. But you’ll probably want to wrap up well if you’re venturing out. And maybe stay away from the clifftops. It can get interesting up there.’ She flashed another smile. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure the boat wouldn’t have brought you here if they weren’t confident they could fetch you back on Sunday.’ She clapped Lyndsey on the shoulder. ‘Go look after your friend. I’ll give you a shout when I have any luck with the radio.’
Juliet greeted Lyndsey and Sonia with a relieved smile. ‘Well done, you!’ Juliet said. ‘This place looks more welcoming already, don’t you think?’
As far as Lyndsey could tell, even with the lights on, the rooms were still fairly bleak. If anything, the harsh strip lighting accentuated the rough walls and patches of damp on the ceiling and under the windows. But at least she heard a few reassuring clonks from the central heating system as it switched on.
Juliet was in the kitchen, setting up a camping stove on the counter. ‘I thought we all could use a cup of tea,’ she said. ‘Did you find the warden?’
‘Yeah, she’s next door in the bird observatory.’ Lyndsey peeled off her jacket and hung it up with the others on the pegs by the door. She was very grateful that Bobbie had found her a good, sturdy jacket at a discount price. It might not have been a posh brand name, like Sonia’s or Juliet’s, but it was the most waterproof item Lyndsey had owed in years. ‘There’s a problem with the radio, though.’
‘What problem?’
‘It’s not working right now.’ Lyndsey glanced at Sonia for back-up, but Sonia had disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the flimsy door behind her. ‘Apparently, it’s quite temperamental.’
Juliet stopped fiddling with the stove and looked at her in alarm. ‘But we can still call the coastguard, right?’
‘Not at this exact moment. The warden’s trying to fix it. We don’t know how long it’ll take.’
‘But this is an emergency!’
‘Believe it or not, we told her that. It doesn’t make the radio any less broken.’
Juliet swore under her breath. It looked like she was debating whether to grab her coat and storm over to the warden’s house herself. Lyndsey wouldn’t have stopped her. In the end though, Juliet turned back to the stove. She slotted two of its pieces together with deliberate calm.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘What’s the plan if we can’t radio for help?’
‘Beats me.’ Lyndsey was fairly sure it was a rhetorical question. Juliet liked to speak her questions aloud; she said it helped her formulate answers. Lyndsey suspected it was a tactic Juliet used in her management job – if you asked something out loud, someone would likely answer it for you.
In the bunkroom, Amanda was laid out on a bed with a blanket tucked up around her. Some of the colour had returned to her face. Her eyelids were heavy and she was obviously only half awake.
‘Is she okay?’ Lyndsey asked Val, who was perched on the edge of her own bunk.
‘Difficult to say. The painkillers might knock her out.’
Amanda murmured, ‘I can still hear you, y’know.’
‘Thought as much. Go to sleep, will you? We don’t know how long it’ll be for rescue to get here.’
The rooms were small enough that everyone had heard Lyndsey saying the radio was broken. She was grateful to Val for not arguing with her. Lyndsey sat down on the bed next to Amanda’s. At the far end of the room, Bobbie had laid down on a bunk as well, curled up on her side like a child, her purple water bottle tucked into the crook of her arm. Val looked like she was keeping an eye on both Amanda and Bobbie, although she’d also taken her slimline laptop from her bag and was studying a page of text.
‘Why’d you bring your laptop?’ Lyndsey asked. ‘You won’t be able to charge it.’
‘You lot brought your phones, even though you can’t charge them and there’s no reception,’ Val said. ‘I can manage eight hours of battery life on this if I’m careful. I promised the missus I’d get some work done while we’re here.’
One of Val’s hobbies was writing. At present – and for the last three years – she’d been working laboriously and loudly on a Victorian murder mystery, although the majority was research. Every now and again, Lyndsey would bump into Val in one of the coffee shops they both frequented, where Val would always be ensconced at a table with her granny jumper and her bottomless pot of tea, working away on her project.
Without more than a glance at the laptop, Lyndsey knew the current page would be one of Val’s various research documents. Each contained all the minutiae anyone could possibly want about Victorians, their lives, and the various ways to murder them.
‘What’re you looking up?’ Lyndsey asked. ‘Is it the central heating system? Because I know it’s old, but I don’t think it’s that old.’
‘I’m brushing up on my first aid skills.’ Val angled the screen so Lyndsey could see the text. ‘Granted, none of my notes cover this exact situation, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to refresh my knowhow.’
‘You’re brushing up on Victorian first aid?’
‘I researched contemporary techniques too.’ Val sniffed. ‘Can’t know what people did wrong till you know how it’s done right.’
Lyndsey looked over at Bobbie. ‘How about you? How’re you feeling?’
‘I’m okay.’ Bobbie gave a weak smile. ‘A bit more settled now.’
From the kitchen, Juliet called, ‘We’ll all feel better once we’ve had a cup of tea.’ She’d finally got the camping stove lit. The smell of gas tinged the air.
‘Open a window,’ Val shouted. ‘You’ll suffocate us all.’
