down. 'For Heaven's sake, don't move. I mean...'
'I know what you mean,' squealed Botwyk. 'Don't I just. Sweet Jesus, I've got to. You're telling me...oh my God!' He fell back on the rock and lay still.
'Right,' said Glodstone, delighted that as last he'd gained the upper hand. 'Now I'm going to ask you to tell me if you feel anything when...'
'Yes, I do,' screamed Botwyk, 'Definitely.'
'But I haven't done anything yet.'
'Guy tells me he hasn't done anything yet! Just tells me my spine's broken. And that's nothing? How would you feel if you'd been strangled and dropped over a cliff and some limey at the bottom gives you mouth-to-mouth and men says you've got a broken spine and not to move your fucking head? You think I don't feel nothing? And what about my fucking wife? She's going to love having me around the house all day and not being able to get it up at night. You don't know her. She's going to be hot-tailing it with every...' The prospect was evidently too much for him. He stopped and glared up at the sky.
'Now then,' said Glodstone, getting his own back for being called a limey, 'if you feel...'
'Don't say it,' said Botwyk, 'no way. I'm going to lie here and not move until it's light enough for you to swim back over there and get an ambulance and the best medical rescue team money can buy and...'
It was Glodstone's turn to panic. 'Now wait a minute,' he said, wishing to hell he hadn't boasted about swimming across so readily, 'I've sprained my ankle rescuing you. I can't go back into...'
'Ankle yankle,' shouted Botwyk, 'you think I care about ankles in my fucking condition, you've got to be crazy. Somebody is for sure.'
'Oh well, if you feel like that about it,' said Glodstone rather huffily only to be stopped by Botwyk.
'Feel?' he yelled. 'You use that fucking word again and someone's going to be sorry.'
'Sorry,' said Glodstone, 'All the same...'
'Listen, bud,' said Botwyk, 'It's not all the same. Not to me it isn't. Your ankle and my spine are in two different categories, right?'
'I suppose they'd have to be,' said Glodstone.
'You don't need a fucking ankle to get it up and feel and all. Well, it's not that way with spines. Not the way I read it. So lay off the feeling part.'
'Yes,' said Glodstone, not too sure now if he'd been wise to raise the issue in the first place. 'All the same...'
'Don't,' said Botwyk menacingly.
'I was going to say...'
'I know what you were going to say. And I've answered that one already. It's not the fucking same. Same is out, same as feel is.'
'Even so,' said Glodstone after a pause in which he had searched for a phrase which wouldn't infuriate the blighter, 'for all we know there may be nothing the matter with your spine. The way to find out is to...'
'Take my fucking shoes off like you did just now,' said Botwyk, 'I've got news for you...'
But whatever he was about to impart was drowned by the sound of sirens. A car followed by an ambulance hurtled along the road opposite and turned over the bridge to the Chateau.
'For hell's sake do something,' yelled Botwyk, 'We've got to get their attention.'
But Glodstone was too preoccupied to answer. Whatever Peregrine had done had included more than dumping this foul-mouthed swine over the cliff and if he was caught...The notion horrified him. In the meantime, he had better keep on good terms, or as near good as he could get, with the sod.
