Free Cape Wrath by Paul Finch Page A

them from the cave entrance.
    They both turned quickly. Her silhouette almost blotted out what little light there was filtering in.
    â€œEr … not much,” Nug said awkwardly. “We’d better go and check where his body was.”
    She considered for a moment, then nodded. “We’ll go through his tent and his rucksack as well. Even if we don’t find it, it’s no disaster. The boat’ll be here the day after tomorrow. I think we can manage for that long.”
    And then she was gone, marshalling the others, audibly sending them back to the camp. Nug made to follow her, to Alan’s further irritation. “ I’ll wrap him up again, shall I?” he said pointedly.
    â€œSorry, mate.” Nug came back in to help.
    A moment passed as they re-swathed Craig in his groundsheet. When Alan was sure the Professor was out of earshot, he leaned over. “I thought you were the one who was worried something was going on?” he said quietly.
    â€œIt’s not her , though, is it,” Nug protested. “I mean, we know her.”
    â€œWhat the hell’s got into her, then?”
    Nug shrugged, and pulled the sleeping bag up over the corpse’s still booted feet. “Same as has got into everyone else, I suppose.”
    â€œWhich is?”
    â€œGrief. Worry.” Nug drew the zip up. “Look … she stands to carry the can for this cock-up, whoever’s fault they decide it is. It’s already fucked up the biggest find of her career. She’s probably just bottling it all in.”
    Neither of them spoke further, but, inside, Alan was in deep distress. He’d long been entranced by Professor Mercy. It wasn’t just the fact that every heterosexual male who laid eyes on her wanted to take her to bed, or that she was a dominant figure in her field, with a knowledgeable and charming manner that made her seminars a pleasure to attend; it wasn’t just the care and concern she showed, and the fact that she was always there for those to whom she was personal tutor. It was the combination of all these; the blend of professional yet motherly control she exercised over those in her charge. Yet how different things suddenly were now. Alan didn’t feel disappointed by her, so much as betrayed … betrayed that she was so interested in her career, betrayed that at the end of the day that meant more to her than the lives of her students, betrayed that this perfect person wasn’t as perfect as he’d imagined.
    What other revelations awaited them?, he wondered. At least 32 hours had to pass before they could get off this island. How many other startling stress-cracks would start to show in their fine façade?

9
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    The howl was long and low, and it hung on the night air with a mournful resonance.
    At first, Alan thought he was dreaming. He had been dreaming earlier; dreaming that they weren’t camped out on a teeny island just off the northern British coast, but were actually in some vast wilderness of mountains, glaciers and snow-deep pinewoods. How natural that a howl should have sounded in a place like that, but now, as he lay in that vague state between slumber and wakefulness, there came a bustle of movement from the other tents, and a low mumble of voices, and at once he realised that the howl he’d heard hadn’t been part of any dream.
    Hurriedly, Alan shook himself to clear his head, then glanced at his watch. In the still-pitch dark, the luminous dial told him it was just past two o’clock. He hadn’t been asleep that long. By the voices outside, however, the others were clearly up and milling around. He wormed out of his sleeping bag, pulled his boots on and slid from the tent. Various torches had been switched on, which fleetingly had the effect of concentrating the darkness around them, so it was several moments before he was able to recognise who was who.
    â€œI suppose you all heard that, did you?” came