Aftermath

“We’re doing the right thing, you know,” he said. Kieran nodded. “Look, no one meant for any of this to happen. Fact is, they’ll have fucked off back to their island again by now, so what’s done is done.” He walked over to the other man. “Get some food going. Get a couple of the girls working in the kitchen, and crack open a few bottles of booze, the best stuff you can find. Keep the people safe and warm and give them what they want within reason. Let’s not give them any excuses to try anything we might all end up regretting.”

34

The basic communications Harry had rigged up between the two boats and the helicopter worked intermittently, their efficiency steadily fading away with range. Between the frequent bursts of static and the increasingly long radio silences, Harry managed to get sufficient information to Richard, Donna, and Cooper so that everyone knew what was happening.

With the Summer Breeze full of supplies, Donna and Cooper had little option but to continue back to Cormansey. There was nothing to be gained from them turning back. Richard stayed with them for a while, flying close and remaining in contact until he was sure they could reach the small port close to Danver’s Lye. He then flew back to the mainland, cursing the fact that, yet again, everything seemed to be down to him.

Harry, Harte, and Michael watched the helicopter land on top of the car park. About twenty minutes later Richard returned to the marina, breathless.

“Bloody hell, I hate being out there on my own,” he admitted. “It’s a ghost town. You turn any corner and there are still those things waiting for you. Good job they’re so slow. They scare the shit out of me, they do.” He stopped talking and looked at the others. “What?”

“You finished?” Harry asked.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Bit nervous, that’s all.”

He followed them onto the virtually empty Duchess, feeling self-conscious.

“Donna and Cooper get back to Cormansey okay?” Harry asked.

“I left them a few miles short. They’ll be there by now.”

“Did you stop and land…?” Michael started to ask. Richard shook his head.

“Wasn’t any point. I turned around and came straight back. They’ll explain to the others as soon as they’ve moored. So what’s the plan? I’m assuming that we do have a plan?”

“Get back to the castle and get those who want out, out,” Harry flippantly replied.

Harry'>“Simple,” Richard said, equally flippantly. “I’ll just land in the middle of the castle and ship them out in threes and fours. No one will mind.”

“How the hell are we going to do it?” Harte asked, nervously chewing his fingers. “Because you’re right, we’re not going to be able to just fly in. Jas is going to be seriously pissed off. He’s not going to let anyone in or out without a fight.”

“Then we’ll have to find another way,” Michael said, stating the obvious.

“Whoa … you’re not going anywhere,” Richard interrupted. “You can’t. You’ve got Emma and the baby to think about.”

“I think about them all the time,” he said, suddenly sounding subdued. “Thing is, I’m here now, and it doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere until we’ve got Harte’s people out of this castle. There’s no way I can’t get involved, is there?”

“But you should stay out of trouble. Wait here for the rest of us to get back…”

Michael was shaking his head. “There’s no point. I told you, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Things are different now. Believe me, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than back on the island with Emma. I fall asleep thinking about her and the baby at night, and I wake up every morning still thinking about them. But at the end of the day, me not being there isn’t going to make a massive amount of difference. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

“You’ve missed that,” Harry mumbled. “That’s already been and gone.”

Michael ignored him. This was serious.

“What I’m saying is, there’s nothing I can do to help the baby be born, is there? I mean, I can do all the practical stuff and run errands and all that, but me being around won’t make a huge difference to Emma giving birth, will it?”

“I think you’re doing yourself a huge disservice,” Richard said. “Your missus and your kid will need you. There’s another fifty bods back on Cormansey who can do chores and run errands, but you’re the only one Emma actually needs. You shouldn’t take any risks you don’t need to, that’s all I’m saying.”

“But these are risks we do need to take,” Michael said. “Imagine the difference another ten or so folks will make on Cormansey.”

“I understand what you’re saying, but I still don’t agree.”

“Well, that’s how it is. I’ve made my decision. You’d all probably do the same thing if you were in my shoes.”

“This is all very lovely,” Harte said cynically, “but it’s all academic anyway. How the hell are we going to get them out of the castle? Are we just going to stroll up to the front door and knock and ask if Jas will let them out?”

“He’s right,” Richard agreed. “This is a fool’s errand.”

“No, it isn’t,” Harry said from the corner. “I know exactly how we’ll do it.”

35

Caron and Lorna had been locked in the cafe kitchen to prepare the food Jas had ordered.

“I’d piss in this if I wasn’t going to have to eat it myself,” Lorna said, seething with anger, barely able to keep calm. “Who the fuck does Jas think he is?”

She stirred a vast pot of soup they’d bulked up with tinned vegetables. Caron was busy steaming a job lot of chocolate puddings they’d found in the stores. She hunted through various crates and trays for a box of catering– size packets of custard powder she was sure she’d seen recently.

“Have you seen the custard powder?” she asked.

“No, I haven’t seen any fucking custard powder,” Lorna yelled at her. “Fucking hell, Caron, there are more important things to think about right now than pudding.”

Unfazed by Lorna’s outburst, Caron found what she’d been looking for. She dropped the box onto the table next to the gas burner she was using.

“This should be nice,” she said.

“Nice! For fuck’s sake, who gives a damn if the food tastes nice? Are you completely fucking stupid? Haven’t you seen what’s been happening around here? Jackson’s dead, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Of course I’ve noticed,” Caron snapped, finally showing a little emotion. “Stupid thing to say.”

“Then why are you talking about custard and things tasting nice? Our last decent chance to get out of this place disappeared this afternoon.”

“I’m well aware of that, thank you very much.”

“You don’t act like you are.”

Caron stopped and stared at Lorna.

“Getting shitty with me isn’t going to make any difference,” she said, instantly slipping back into “mother mode” and talking to Lorna the same way she used to try reasoning with Matthew, her late son. “I know exactly what’s going on. We are where we are, Lorna, and there’s absolutely nothing you or I can do about it for the moment. We need to make the most of what we’ve still got, because the way things are going, we might lose that tomorrow. Now, have you seen any clean bowls?”

“No,” Lorna grunted.v height='0em'>

“I don’t know what’s wrong with these people,” Caron continued, conveniently forgetting the blatantly obvious fact that what was wrong with these people was that, through no fault of their own, their lives had been destroyed and that even now, several months further down the line, many of them were still completely fucking traumatized. Trivializing everything seemed to be helping Caron cope tonight. “I don’t know,” she grumbled to