The Tide of Terror E-Book

Stuart G. Yates

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

A telephone call to the local veterinarian's office breaks the peace of Alderney Island.

After several reports of injured animals in rapid succession, vet Jenny sets out to examine what might be causing the injuries.

Later the same night, she's roused from her sleep by strange sounds and an unnerving chill in the air. Something unnatural is lurking in the shadows, causing her stomach to churn with fear.

But what connects the mysterious attacks, the remains of a concentration camp on the island, and the dark, grotesque figure who consistently appears in Jenny's dreams?

On the small channel island, she must uncover the mystery... or die trying.

Leseprobe

The Tide of Terror

Stuart G. Yates

Copyright (C) 2017 Stuart G. Yates

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

Published 2021 by Next Chapter

Cover art by matyan90

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Also by Stuart G. Yates

UnflinchingIn The BloodTo Die in GloryVarangianVarangian 2 (King of the Norse)Burnt OfferingsWhipped UpSplintered IceThe Sandman ComethRoadkillTears in the Fabric of TimeSallowed BloodLament for Darley Dene

To Libby, with all my love, for always. And, the people of Alderney, who live on that most wonderful of all islands.

PART ONE - DARK TIMES

Chapter One

AS Jenny ran around the corner, she could hear the voices quite clearly. She'd received the call not ten minutes ago and had responded with her usual efficiency. As the only veterinary nurse for the local community, she was on twenty-four hour call. She had just been settling down with a cup of tea when a worried sounding voice blurted down her mobile, “Come quick, we've found a hedgehog!” Nothing sensational about that, but when they told Jenny it was a blond hedgehog, she reacted instantly. They were a protected species and, as such, had to be given whatever help was necessary.

“Here she is,” shouted Tommy Newby, the boy who had called Jenny in the first place. He ran up to her, his face looking concerned. “It seems injured, Jenny. Like it's been attacked or something.”

Jenny nodded and came forward. They were all gathered there, a small knot of children all oohing and aahing as they looked down at the little round, spiky ball at their feet. Amongst them was Mrs Strickland, the Year Four teacher from the school. She did not look happy. But then, Jenny thought sadly, she never did.

“This is a ridiculous waste of time,” snapped Mrs Strickland. “You should let nature take its course.”

Deciding to ignore the comment, Jenny got down on her haunches and tenderly turned the little animal over.

Blond hedgehogs are almost identical to their brown cousins, except for two very distinct differences. One, they are blond – hence their name – and two, they have no natural predators. This gives them a distinct disadvantage, unfortunately, as they can be more trusting than their brown relatives. Their main enemies being usually domestic cats and dogs, or very rarely the occasional seabird. But no animal had bitten this one. It looked as though someone had stabbed it.

They were all standing between the tracks of the railway line that ran along the rear of the school. High hedges flanked each side and against one were the gardens of some rather large and impressive houses. Jenny wondered if the little hedgehog had been found in one of these gardens and been attacked, the owner thinking it was a pest, which wasn't true.

This is not a tooth mark Jenny said to herself. It looked very similar to a stab wound. It was clean, not ragged. She frowned. What could have happened?

Mrs Strickland must have heard her thoughts. “Well, whatever it is, just put it under that bush and let it die.”

The children gasped in shock.

“No, Jenny!” Leona Lawrence the prettiest and cleverest girl in Mrs Strickland's class shouted. “You have to help it, please.”

“Don't worry,” said Jenny gently picking up the little animal in her hands, “we are honour bound to look after these little fellows.”

“Well I think it's a total waste of time, if you ask me.”

Jenny shot Mrs Strickland a sharp look. Why did she always have to be so angry? Didn't she know how to lighten up? “Well, fortunately, I'm not you, Mrs Strickland.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.” She gently placed the little hedgehog into a holding box and looked around at the concerned faces of the children. “He'll be fine. If you like, some of you can visit the surgery later on and make sure he's okay.”

All the children gleefully accepted. Tommy tugged at her sleeve. “Thanks, Jenny,” he said.

“No, thank you Tommy.” She smiled at the little boy, who couldn't have been more than eight. “You did the right thing.”

“A waste of time,” spat Mrs Strickland.

Jenny had had enough. Standing up, she confronted Mrs Strickland with a hard look of her own. “Mrs Strickland, I've got to say, I'm a little surprised at your attitude, especially,” she looked around her, “in front of all the children.”

“All of this Good Samaritan business is nonsense! What would happen if we weren't here, eh? What would become of it then?”

“But we are here, Mrs Strickland and we can't just simply stand by and let a poor, defenceless animal die without trying to do something to help.”

“Poor defenceless…it's a wild animal, dear. It has to fend for itself.”

“That's where you're wrong, Mrs Strickland. We don't know why this species is as it is, but this is the only place on Earth where it's found and it is therefore protected, by law. It's my job to uphold that law. And, if you were to take the time to look at its injuries, you would see that they were obviously man-made! So, if we weren't here, Mrs Strickland, it would never have happened, would it.”

“I never taught you,” continued Mrs Strickland, ignoring Jenny's barbed words, “you're an outsider. But if I had, I would have taught you a thing or two about respect.”

“What, like the respect you have for living things, Mrs Strickland?”

“I have plenty of respect for that. I have a biology degree from Durham University. I've worked on various environmental projects and I can assure you, Miss, that I am probably a great deal more qualified than you when it comes to dealing with wild animals. Now,” she span about, dismissing Jenny with contempt, “it is almost the end of lunch time, children – back to school.”

The children groaned but obediently fell in line behind Mrs Strickland as the tall, gangly teacher strode ahead towards the school gates. Tommy and Leona remained for a few moments longer, both of them smiling at the veterinary nurse. “We'll see you at around half-four,” said Leona quietly.

“I'll look forward to it. Will you be coming, Tommy?”

Little Tommy Newby beamed, his eyes glinting with joy, “You try and stop me!”

The veterinary surgery was small, but well equipped. Mr McGregor, the vet, would visit twice weekly and he always filled his time with catching up on all the various animal problems that had occurred since the last time he had been there. Jenny worked hard, and she was knowledgeable but often she felt a little out of her depth. This was one such occasion. As she lay the tiny little blond hedgehog down on the surgery table, she couldn't help but bite back the tears.

Whatever had struck the little creature, it had been deliberate. As Jenny peered more closely, she could clearly see that beside the main wound, there was another, much shallower puncture. And a third, barely a bruise. They were evenly spaced. She straightened up and closed her eyes, saying softly, “Pitchfork.”

“Is your shop open?”

Jenny started at the voice and turned to see Mrs Fielding, the school nurse standing there, all bristling forearms and wild shock of auburn hair. She was a formidable looking woman, but was actually quite sweet. Jenny smiled. “Sorry, Mrs Fielding. Yes, I'll be over in a minute. I've just got to clean up this little chap.

Breezing into the room, and almost filling it with her bulk, Mrs Fielding peered down at the tiny creature. “Hmmm…looks like it's been stabbed.”

“Yes. I'm afraid I think you're right. Pitchfork I would say.”

“More than likely. Where did you find it?”

“The children did. Down on the railway line. It could hardly move, the poor thing. It's lost quite a lot of blood.”

“No doubt someone found it in their garden. People don't know much about them. Think they're vermin.”

Jenny didn't comment further. She didn't have to. Mrs Fielding's words spoke the truth. Sometimes Jenny despaired at how ignorant some people could be.

“What are you going to do with it?” continued Mrs Fielding.

“Keep him warm and safe. The shock may well kill him, but they are tough. Only time will tell.”

“Well, I think it's admirable what you're doing, Jenny. These creatures are unique.” She looked up. “I need some bird seed. Any chance?”

Jenny checked the hedgehog throughout the day. It was quiet, sleeping most of the time. She had cleaned the wound and fortunately it didn't seem infected. She had no way of knowing if damage had occurred to any internal organs, but Jenny was hopeful. The bleeding had stopped and when she had given it a tiny piece of dog-food it had munched it down quite happily. Always a good sign. So, when the children arrived after school, Jenny was pleased to tell them that, up to now, the little chap seemed to be holding up well.

“Can I hold him?” asked Tommy eagerly.

“No, not yet. Maybe in a day or two. It's still touch and go. Delayed shock can be very dangerous.”

“Shock? What's that?”

“How the body reacts to a major trauma – accident, or attack, like this one. Often wild animals seem perfectly fine, that they've suffered no damage at all. Then they simply just die. It happens a lot with wild birds.”

“I rescued a sparrow,” said Leona, “we gave it some biscuits and water and put it in a shoebox. All of its wings were tatty, as if it had been attacked.”

“Probably by a cat.”

“Yes. That's what my dad said. It seemed fine, then when we got up in the morning, it was lying dead on the bottom of the box.”

“Well, all I can say is, I'll try and keep him quiet throughout the night, then we'll see how he's doing in the morning.”

“What is that awful smell?” Leona took a step back, holding her nose. Tommy soon followed her, making a face.

Jenny laughed. “It's him! Hedgehogs really stink, sorry to say, even when they're perfectly healthy. I think it's got to do with where they live and all the things they eat – like tasty slugs.”

“Yuck!” Both children chorused in unison.

“You just have to get used to it.”

“Don't think I could ever get used to that.”

Jenny just smiled.

“Will you let us know how he gets on?” Tommy was the first to recover and his eyes were now wide with eagerness.

“Of course I will! I'll meet you at the school gate tomorrow morning. I start work here at seven, so I'll see you a bit later on.”

“Thanks Jenny. And thanks for letting us see him. He's beautiful.”

“Yes he is. Let's hope he stays that way!”

Living in the small flat that was upstairs from the main kennels, Jenny could make her way down to the surgery and shop within minutes. The whole complex surrounded a forecourt on three sides. The main entrance gates were almost always open and the notice on them stated, quite clearly, that there was a 24-hour emergency number where people could contact Jenny with their animal problems. But it wasn't her telephone that woke her, or someone ringing the bell on her front door. It was the sound of birds.

Rubbing her eyes, she went over to the main window and looked down into the forecourt. The main security light was on. Two dogs in the boarding kennels were not barking, so she didn't think anyone had come in. All the doors were closed. No windows were open. It was all clear. But there was something. A strange, intermittent sound. Like scurrying. She pulled on her dressing gown and wandered downstairs.

It was nearly dawn, a few streaks of purple and orange beginning to spread across the eastern sky. It promised to be a good day, despite the old rhyme of 'red sky in the morning, sailors' warning', which she knew to be untrue. As she stepped outside, however, she noticed the chill. The air was sharp, but there was something else. It didn't seem quite natural, somehow. She had the unnerving impression someone was watching her and she felt the first few tingles of fear flittering inside her stomach. Perhaps she had been a little too eager to investigate. People had often talked about her living alone at the site, how dangerous it could be. She'd always dismissed these concerns, claiming she was more than capable of looking after herself. But now, given this atmosphere, perhaps there was some truth in what people had said. She shivered. Very slowly, she began to make her way inside, there being nothing to see.

The shadow crossed the forecourt across to her right. She whirled around, instinctively ducking, but there nothing there. Breathing quietly through her mouth, she scanned the outbuildings. They were all quiet. Carefully, she stepped out into the forecourt proper and looked upwards, across the roofs of the kennels, the surgery and the shop. Nothing. Muttering a silent oath, she decided to check on the hedgehog, given that she was now wide awake.

Taking her time, she quietly unlocked the door and went inside. The tiny orange glow from the comfort light was the only illumination in the room, but she could clearly see the little blond ball curled up inside its box, and the smell was as unmistakeable as ever. She went up to it and checked that he was breathing, smiling when she realised he was still alive. As she straightened a curious thing happened. Its little head popped out and for the briefest of moments its eyes met hers and she had the strangest feeling that the little creature was looking at her with fondness, even gratitude. She frowned, surprised that a wild animal could show such emotions, as the hedgehog put its head back into its protective cocoon of soft, blond spines. For a long time she simply stood there, hardly daring to breathe or blink. Then she shook her head, dismissing what she'd witnessed as a fanciful and silly idea, no doubt brought about by her just having woken up. Smiling at her own silliness, she went back outside.

She stopped, frozen in the act of locking the door.

Opposite her, standing along the roof of the boarding kennels, in a perfect line, were six birds. All different species and all of them standing motionless, watching.

Suddenly, the one in the middle, a huge and beautiful gannet, lifted up its head, let out a raucous cry, and then they all took off, flapping their wings hard, before disappearing into the still cold and chilly morning sky.

Without waiting, Jenny ran into her flat as quickly as she could, slammed the door shut, and stood, fighting for breath, not daring to believe what she had seen.

Her throat felt dry and tight. Her heart pounded.

Those birds had been staring straight at her.

Straight into her very soul.

Chapter Two

The early morning gathering at the school gate was always the same, with parents and children all milling around, catching up on the gossip. Jenny marvelled at how much the children had to say to one another, but what struck her the most, apart from the noise of course, were the conversations that the parents had. She'd always known that you could learn everything about what went on in school by standing at the school gate listening to the mums. Now, as she stood there, she had another opportunity to experience just how fast things got around their community. As she sauntered up the path that led to the gates, almost everyone's eyes turned to her, then little groups huddled together, no doubt chattering away about how Jenny had had 'words' with Mrs Strickland. This was the main topic, not the rescue of the hedgehog. She could clearly hear the comments. But she didn't react, just kept a dignified silence, smiling now and again at the occasional parent who gave her a somewhat scathing look. People had presumably made up their own minds about what had happened, and who had said what. Mrs Strickland had been a teacher at the school for over seventeen years and was highly regarded by most. Jenny, on the other hand, had barely been there a year. It was obvious where most people's allegiances lay. It wasn't fair, but it was understandable.

“Jenny!”

The veterinary nurse turned and beamed as Leona came running up to her. There's one ally I've got, at least, Jenny thought to herself. Suddenly Tommy and a bunch of other excited children were huddling around. They seemed to have appeared from nowhere and Jenny couldn't help but laugh out loud as they piled on their eager questions. She told them what she could, that the little hedgehog was doing well, was eating, and seemed very happy. She made no mention of what had happened in the night, however. She wasn't even sure if anything actually had happened. Perhaps it was nothing more than her imagination.

“So, can we come and see him again?” asked Tommy.

“Yes. Of course you can. But he really is fine, there's no need to worry.”

“What will you do to with him when he's fully recovered?”

Jenny looked across at Joel Fletcher, a small boy with an enormous clump of unruly blond hair falling over his face. He had asked the question. “Let him back into the wild.”

“But wouldn't he just get attacked again?”

“Well…I'm afraid that's a risk we've got to take. We can't keep him in the rescue centre forever.”

“But why not,” piped in Leona, “at least he'll be safe there?”

“Yes, he would. But it wouldn't be fair – he's a wild animal. He belongs outside.” Suddenly Jenny's mobile buzzed and she gave a smile to the little collection of concerned children. “I have to go,” she looked down at the screen and saw that it was Mr McGregor, the vet, who was 'phoning her. “Duty calls! I'll see you all later on. Bye!”

Strolling back down the lane, Jenny spoke into her mobile.

“Jenny!” It was Mr McGregor. It was rare for him to contact her between visits, unless there was a problem. He was due to fly in the following day. Jenny hoped that he wouldn't be delayed. “How are things?”

“Fine, Mr McGregor. The usual batch of escaped dogs and, oh yes, Mrs Macall's love-birds had to have their claws clipped.”

“No rescued hedgehogs then?”

Jenny almost gasped. How had he discovered that news so quickly? “Er…yes. How did you know.”

“The local press have been on to me, Jen. Seems they want to do an article about it.”

“An article? What sort of article?”

“About the 'hog, what happened, what you did.”

“What I…Mr McGregor, how did you find out?”

“Mrs Fielding telephoned me, after she'd been in touch with the newspaper. Seemed she wanted everyone to know what a good deed you'd done.”

Mrs Fielding, so she was the source of the story! Jenny felt relieved. For one terrible moment, she thought it had been Mrs Strickland who had been in touch with the vet. “Well, I didn't really do that much. He's still with us, just for observation.”

“Pitchfork wasn't it? Some over-eager gardener protecting his cabbages, or so the story goes. Not that hedgehogs eat cabbages, but you know what I mean.”

“Well, I'm not sure how it happened. But he's getting better.”

“Who, the gardener or the 'hog?”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, just that I know how dedicated you are, Jen. Sometimes you let your passion run away with you.” What did that mean? Mr McGregor carried on quickly, “So, they'll be in touch. The newspaper people. You can let me know all about it tomorrow. Usual time. 'Bye for now.”

Jenny closed her mobile and stood looking out across the bay towards the sea. The morning was still and fair. A few little boats were bobbing up and down at their anchors and occasionally a big seabird skimmed the surface of the water. It was a tranquil scene. But Jenny was feeling far from tranquil. The press! An interview. She didn't like the sound of that one little bit.

Sitting there, in the bright but cheerless surgery, Jenny soon realized that she needn't have worried. The reporter, Josh Stewart, with his easy manner soon made her feel relaxed. Jenny also thought he had a very nice smile, which had nothing to do with anything…or so she told herself. He stood just outside the shop doorway and took her hand, told her his name and appeared very interested with a quiet, confident voice. Not over-bearing at all. Soon they had wandered over to the surgery, as Josh wanted some pictures of 'the workplace'. As they went inside, the smell became over-powering.

“Is that normal?” he asked.

“Quite normal,” she returned and he pressed his face closer to the cage, which held the little hedgehog. Jenny noticed he was holding his breath.

He straightened up. “Cute, isn't he. Apart from the smell. Does that go?”

“I'm not sure, to be honest. I've never had one in captivity before. It's probably got more to do with where he usually lives than anything personal, so to speak. It's not as bad as it was, so perhaps it will continue to improve.”

“And fleas? I hear hedgehogs are alive with fleas.”

“Yes, they are. But not blonds. Blond hedgehogs don't have fleas.”

“Really? That's interesting.” Josh took another look. “He's only little, isn't he? It is a 'he' isn't it?”

“Yes.” She noted his raised eyebrows. “I've checked him.” She almost laughed as his face reddened a little. She hurried on, “And yes, he is quite underweight. That's probably more to do with his injury perhaps. Shock tends to do that.”

“He's lucky to survive, don't you think?

“He certainly is. I'm not sure what would have happened if the children hadn't found him. He's a very lucky little boy.”

Josh chuckled. “To have you looking after him, absolutely!”

Jenny looked away, a little red-faced. “Well, only time will tell.”

“So, this is an albino, yes? A variant of the normal, brown hedgehog, yes?”

“No, not at all. His pigmentation is natural. He's not albino. Many people make that mistake. But look at his eyes, they're jet black, not the sign of an albino. He's a genetic variant, that's all. And he's unique to this environment. We don't really understand why it happened, but they certainly thrive here. No natural predators, and a population that is usually very attentive and caring about them.”

“Usually?” Josh frowned. “I take it from your tone that not everyone is of the same opinion? Do some people not agree with you saving such creatures?”

This was the part Jenny had been expecting, almost right from the beginning. She gave a little shrug and led him into the surgery. She told him the whole story of the rescue, carefully skirting around anything to do with Mrs Strickland and her rather brusque manner. After about thirty minutes of note taking, Josh announced that everything was finished. He took a few more photographs, one of Jenny holding the little 'hog in her hands, and another of the rescue complex, then he left with a smile and a 'thank you'. As Jenny gently put the little creature back in its cage, she wondered what the article would come out like. She actually found herself feeling a little excited at the prospect.

Chapter Three

The call came from the harbour-master at around four o'clock that afternoon. Jenny hastily closed the shop, leaving the usual “back soon” message on the door, and then raced off down to the harbour in the rescue-centre's van. She arrived in less than five minutes. The harbour master was impressed.

“That's quick work – well done!”

“You said it was urgent.” Jenny was breathing hard and she gazed out towards the bay looking concerned.

“Well, I've always been a bit of an animal lover. Jordan's down there, on the beach. He's trying to catch it.”

“OK. Let's go.”

Jenny had a large net, towel and dog carrier in the back of the van. She always kept a wide range of equipment with her, ready for any eventuality. Now the harbour-master helped her to get it all out. They then strode briskly down towards the seashore, over the dunes, to where Jordan, one of the dying breed of local fishermen, stood, bent double, hands on hips, taking in huge gulps of air. He grinned ruefully as the others approached.

“This is hard work, Calvin.”

Calvin Brewster, the harbour-master, shook his head. “We'll soon have him, Jordan. Don't worry.”

Jenny was not quite so certain. She clutched at the net and gave a determined grunt. “Right. let's go and catch that gannet.”

She was correct in her thinking.

The gannet was large, even for its species, and very determined not to be caught. It obviously had a broken wing, its left one looking slightly askew, sticking out at an awkward angle from its sleek, yet powerful body. It could still move incredibly fast, despite its injury. As the three people approached it from different angles, it sat there, eying them suspiciously. While it seemed submissive, it would wait until the very last moment and then, as one of them launched themselves towards the great bird, it would veer off with incredible agility and slip out of their reach. It would then just stand there, a few more feet away, and mock them with its glinting eyes.

Jordan, who had no doubt been repeating the same tactic, with the same results, for some considerable time, had had enough and he flopped down on one of the small dunes to take a breather. While he sat, the gannet approached and looked up at him, cocking its head to one side, as if it were saying, 'Had enough have we? Need a rest?' Jenny laughed, which only caused Jordan to shoot her an angry look.

Calvin shook his head. “This thing is playing games with us, Jenny. Look at it. It's laughing its head off.”

It was true. The big bird now started to cry out in a very obvious and annoying way. Jenny hefted the net in both hands and made a determined swipe at the bird, which merely stepped back, nimble-footed, leaving Jenny to stumble forward and land, face first into the sand. Both the men laughed out loud this time. Not reacting, Jenny propped up her head and blew the hair out of her eyes. This only caused sand to swirl up and hit her full in the face. She cried out, screwing up her eyes and rubbing them with her fists. Amidst the laughter, the bird stepped up to the fallen net and pecked at the handle just once. Then it joined in with the chorus of guffaws.

Jenny did not appreciate the joke.

For the next two hours it was a mad scramble to try and catch the large bird. They took turns, two working while a third rested, all the while trying to cut off the bird's avenues of escape, and each time failing miserable. It was simply too astute to allow them to corner it. But as the struggle wore on, the bird itself began to tire and its little dancing skips became less energetic and pronounced. After Calvin got on his mobile and asked his deputy, Jim Spears to come and assist, the bird was standing on a mound, its beak open, tongue exposed, breathing quite hard. It failed to notice Jim sneaking up behind and when the man launched himself and grabbed it like a rugby ball, the others all pounced before it could react. Jenny had no use of the net, but she put the towel around its head to calm it down, then managed to squeeze it into the dog carrier. She closed and locked the little door and stepped back, grinning triumphantly. “Well done, Jim!”

“Nothing in a day's work for the harbour-master's deputy, Jen.”

Jordan groaned, Calvin blew out his cheeks, and Jenny merely smiled.

The struggle to get the bird transferred from the dog carrier to a holding pen was not quite as difficult as the skirmish on the beach, but it was still work. The towel over the bird's head helped considerably and when it was finally in the pen, Jenny sat back on the ground and stared at the big bird with something akin to admiration in her eyes.

Its white plumage was dazzling. A magnificent bird, it raised its great orange-topped head, as if in self-admiration, and it sat and watched Jenny as closely as she was watching it. Slowly, it gradually took to preening itself with its long, streamlined bill. But all the while it kept at least one eye on her. There was no trust there, not yet. Jenny peered closely at the bird, trying to detect how damaged its wing was. Jordan had told her that it had come in close as he and his crew were bringing their little boat into the harbour. That it had somehow got tangled up in one of the nets and had panicked. In its wild attempts to extract itself, it had only managed to twist itself completely around, its wing jarring behind itself. This had resulted in either a broken or dislocated wing, a rare injury for such a bird. Mostly gulls followed the fishing boats. Gannets usually concentrated on diving for mackerel, or other fish. Why then would this particular gannet do something so unusual? Jenny then grew more puzzled by something she recognised. The bird had a very unusual black smudge on its throat. And she knew where she had seen that before. On the bird that had stood on the kennel roof the night before.

There were only two dogs boarding at the centre, so Jenny took them both out for a walk later in the evening. It was mild and as she crossed the stretch of beach, she reflected on the day. And what a day it had been. Interviews with the local press and rescuing an injured gannet. She often had busy days, but not usually in quite the same way. Two rescued wild creatures, both very different, and yet both of which brought into the centre because of man. One incident deliberate, the other purely accidental. But, both examples of how even the tiniest of man's meddling could impact on nature. As she mused about how far bigger incidents could affect the environment, such as an oil-spill from a stranded tanker, she let the dogs go and watched them hurtle over the sand, barking and bashing into one another as they went. She stood up and gave a startled yelp as she saw, quite unexpectedly, Josh Stewart, the reporter, standing not two metres in front her, grinning broadly.

“Hello Jen, sorry to frighten you.”

“Well you did, sneaking up on me like that.”

“I called you, but you were miles away. Thinking.”

“Yes. Yes, I was.”

“About what animal to rescue next?”

“Pardon?”

“I heard about your little escapade with the seagull.”

“Gannet. It was a gannet.” Jenny looked at him, raising one eyebrow. “How did you know?”

He shrugged. “I'm a reporter, Jen. That's what I do. Snoop.”

Jenny wasn't too sure whether she liked the idea of being snooped on. She turned and looked out to sea, not really wanting to look at his cheery face anymore.

“Sorry,” he said and stepped up closer to her. “I didn't mean that the way it sounded.”

“So, you weren't prying into my daily life then?” She was angry now. Reporting and interviewing her were things she could just about handle, but the thought that someone, reporter or not, was delving around trying to find out more about her and her job…well, it was just a little too much. “It's my job, Mr Stewart. Nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary. It's just what I do.”

He blinked at that, no doubt feeling the hurt of having his own words thrown back at him. “I've insulted you, I never meant to. It was just I was waiting for my taxi down at the hotel and I heard the news. It would give a lot more flesh to my story, that's all.” He came around and looked at her, his face serious for the first time since she met him. “Honestly, I apologise. I wasn't snooping. I just overheard, that's all. News gets around pretty quick in this place.”

She relented a little, the stiffness falling off her shoulders. “Yes, and if we're not careful, someone will see us on this beach and think we're engaged!” He laughed. “No, I'm being serious. I only have to have a drink with a man and everyone thinks I'm going out with him, that I'm set up for life. People gossip here, Mr Stewart, and everyone believes the gossip.”

“But that happens everywhere. People love to spread rumours.”

“Yes, I know. It's just that here, it being so small, so close, those rumours tend to come back in your face. You can't get away from anything here.”

“Must be hard for you, being a single woman I mean.”

“It can be. Sometimes. But I've no plans to go looking for someone, to protect me, if that's what you mean. Not yet, anyway.” She looked out across the beach to where the two dogs were still playing madly with one another. “I like being alone.”

“Really? So, there's no one else in your life?”

“Is this going to be part of your story, Mr Stewart?”

“No!” He glanced out to sea for a second, “Call me Josh, please. No, I won't be using that. Just me wanting to know a little more about you, that's all.”

“I see. Well, there's no one else in my life. Only the animals. And believe me, they keep me far too busy for any man to get my attention.”

He nodded, as if he knew exactly what she was saying. His words confirmed her thought. “It's the same with me. My job. It takes up every waking moment! My wife, she isn't very happy with things at the moment.”

“Ah,” it was now Jenny's turn to nod knowingly, “so, you're married. More to the job than the woman, eh?”

“In some ways. I'm hoping we can move away soon. I've got an interview for a big national over in London. Could be the making of me. More money, more opportunity. Hopefully, a little less travelling. At least, that's the plan.”

“I hope it works out.” She brought her fingers to her lips and blew a loud, shrill whistle through them. The two dogs stopped, looked, and then began to hurtle back towards her. “When will the article appear?”

“Weekend. I'm going to add the little bit about the gannet, if that's all right with you.”

“Two rescues in two days. It's not always like this, you know.” The dogs bounded up to her, the big Labrador, called Samson, jumped up at her with his great, sand-encrusted paws which landed heavily on her shoulders. He gave her a sloppy lick across her face.

Josh was laughing. “No, but I can see how it usually is!”

Then, quite by surprise, the other dog, a rather sprightly Welsh-Springer by the name of Tom, launched itself at Josh, knocking him to the ground in a great cloud of sand, where he lay, with the dog lapping at his mouth.

“Welcome to 'Island animal-Rescue',” shouted Jenny as she battled to bring Samson to heel.

Chapter Four

Again, that night, at almost exactly the same time, a tiny scampering sound woke Jenny up. This time, to investigate, she looked out of her window towards the roof of the kennels and saw, once more, the birds standing there. It came as no surprise to her to see that one of the birds was missing – the gannet. Pulling on her dressing gown, she went down the stairs, crossed the forecourt, and went straight into the surgery.

The gannet was there, sitting quite still. It eyed her warily and gave one loud, raucous call. From across the way, the remaining birds all took off as one and soared into the sky. Jenny, who had deliberately kept the door ajar, watched them, then turned to look at the sea bird again. She had the most curious feeling that the bird was measuring her, to see what she might do next. Slowly she went up to the holding pen and bent down. Like the hedgehog, the bird stank and she recoiled slightly. But this was a very different smell, not earthy and damp, but one of the sea and rotting fish. As she looked again, she saw that the bird had soiled its pen and it was from this mess that the stench emanated. Choosing not to loiter any more, she went across to where the little hedgehog sat. It was sitting there, not in a ball this time, and it too was watching her. Something stirred inside Jenny. She had never known anything like this, not in all her years of treating animals, wild or domestic. Both creatures seemed to sense that she was here to help. But how could that be? Two, totally un-associated animals, both thinking the same thoughts? The idea was fanciful to say the least.

She went to the refrigerator and took out some cans of food. Dog food for the hedgehog, and a little tin of sardines for the bird. She mashed up the dog food first and, spooning it into a little bowl, popped it into the hedgehog's pen. The little animal immediately scurried over and began to eat the food with great gusto. Smiling, with great care Jenny now picked out a large piece of fish and went over to where the gannet still sat, all the time its eyes fixed unerringly on hers. As soon as she pressed the piece of fish through the thin metal bars of the pen, the gannet charged, seizing the sardine with its bill with such force that Jenny had to jump back, before her fingers also became part of the bird's meal. She sat and watched, fascinated, as the fish was devoured in the blink of an eye. A second offering went the same way, then a third, and finally a fourth. Seemingly satisfied, the bird rocked back on its great, webbed feet and began to prune its damaged wing. It would have to be put into a splint, but that, Jenny mused, would take two people. And tomorrow – here Jenny checked her watch and sighed as she realised that it was already tomorrow, and that Mr McGregor would be arriving in a little over two hours. There really was no point in going back to bed, she decided. So she stood up, gave both animals one last glance, and then went back into the forecourt, switching off the light and closing the door behind her. As she did so, she could hear the hedgehog chunnering and the gannet, as if in response, gave the softest, most gentle caw. But that was also too fanciful – animals did not communicate between one another, not two distinctly different species. That would be…madness? She listened at the door. There was nothing, no more noises, no more calls. Slowly, and lost in her thoughts, Jenny went back into her flat and started to get ready for the day to come.

The day was as hectic as it always was. There was a steady stream of clients almost from the moment Mr McGregor blasted through the doors of the surgery, greeting Jenny in his usual cheery way. A large, red-faced man of indeterminate age, Mr McGregor worked at a frenetic pace, barely taking a break as people came in with their pets and their accompanying complaints. He was always pleasant, however, no matter what the mood of his patients – human or animal – and this made Jenny feel so much more relaxed while they worked their way through the morning. It was a pleasure to work for him and she suffered his dreadful jokes with a set grin on her face, thinking them a small price to pay to experience his incredible efficiency and knowledge. By the time lunch came around, she was feeling exhausted but happy.

“Now then, Jennifer,” he declared, clapping his hands together and rubbing them gleefully, “let's see these little orphan strays you've picked up.”

He examined the hedgehog first, giving little grunts every now and again, feeling around its wound very carefully with his fingers. “Excellent, Jennifer. Pitchfork was it?”

“I think so.”

“Well, thanks to your prompt action, he's going to be fine.” And with that he slipped the little creature back into its pen. “Now, this fellow, however, is a much tougher proposition.” He stood with his hands on his hips gazing down at the gannet. “My, he's big. You don't really appreciate their size until you're right up close like this. What a beauty he is. Broken wing, you say?” Jenny nodded. “Well, we're going to have to try and keep him still while I put it into a splint. You think you can do that, Jennifer?”

“I'll certainly try.”

“That's the spirit. We could give him something to pacify him, but I'm loathe to do that. Let's just try and bundle him up in that towel, and then we'll see what happens.”

What happened was nearly forty minutes of mayhem while Mr McGregor and Jenny battled with the bird to get it still enough for the vet to apply the splint. But, with the battle finally won and his face drenched in sweat, Mr McGregor stepped back with a self-congratulatory grin on his face and surveyed his handiwork.

“Well done, Mr McGregor,” said Jenny breathlessly as she closed the door of the holding pen. “I've never known anything so strong.”

“Yes, quite extraordinary. I must go down and have a look at them all on Gannet-Rock. Remind myself of how they should be in their natural environment.” His voice sounded distant, as if his thoughts were really somewhere else. “Caught in a fishing net…very unusual. Now if it had been a gull, or even a fulmar…but gannets…very unusual. Still,” he clapped his hands together again, the sound causing Jenny to jump a little, “he should be fine within about a week to ten days. Maybe sooner. Keep checking on him, feeding him, and keep an eye on his droppings. If they start to change colour, call me straight away. Now, let's eat!”

She watched Mr McGregor board the plane then turned to go. Standing there, a lop-sided grin on his face, was old Harry Davies, who often spent his time up at the airport helping disabled people with their baggage. He also drove the school bus. A likeable man, Harry was always full of stories, not all of them accurate but always very entertaining.

“Hello there, Jenny, I hear you've rescued a rat.”

“Hedgehog, Harry. Blond.”

He followed her out into the car park. “That's what I told 'em, down at the 'Anchor'. She wouldn't rescue a rat, I said. They all laughed. But I was convinced. So, a blond hedgehog, eh? Run over was it?”

“No. People are usually very careful about that, Harry. No, it was attacked – with a pitchfork.”

“Ah,” he nodded his closely shaven head. “Yes…that'll be it then. Bernie Morrison, he was in the pub. Never says much does Bernie. But he was steaming – with anger, I mean, not drink. Saying as how he had found a 'hog in his garden, digging up his vegetable patch. 'I speared it!' he yelled. Yeah, that was it, speared it. Is that what he did then. With a pitchfork? Not very nice, is it?”

“Not really, Harry, no. But it's going to be fine, thanks for asking.”

“Eh? Well, I was just about to. I'll let Bernie know, shall I?”

“You tell him whatever you like, Harry. I'm not really interested in Bernie Morrison or anything he's got to say. He's a horrible, nasty, embittered old man.” She flashed a smile, “Unlike you, Harry. You, my friend, are a real gentleman.”

“Well, that comes with serving with the Met for thirty years. I always said, if you give 'em a kind word and an encouraging smile, they'll do as you ask. And they always did. So,” he looked around. “Nice day, again. How's the bird?”

“Harry, how do you know everything?”

“I keep my ears to the ground, my dear. Harbour master, he was in the pub too.”

Jenny laughed. “Honestly, have you nothing better to gossip about than what I get up to?”

“Not usually.” He held up his hand. “Joke! Funny thing is, though, lots of people have been talking about birds and animals and that. Seems like there's been all sorts of funny things going on – things people can't explain. They say it's all connected to what happened down at the Well.”

“Well? What Well?”

“I dunno, some archaeological dig or other. Seems like something strange happened down there when they dug something up and ever since animals and the like have been acting all peculiar.”

“What a load of nonsense.”

“That's what I said, but others weren't so convinced. They said if you go meddling with things you don't understand, then you're going to have to reap the consequences.”

“Very comforting. What happened down at this Well?”

“Don't know exactly. Police were involved. Someone got killed.”

“Really? I never heard anything.”

“You never do, Jenny. Stuck up in that animal-centre all by yourself. You could be murdered in your bed and no one would ever know.”

Jenny stared at him wide-eyed. His last statement had sent a chill running through her. “You really think so, Harry?”

Harry's mood changed. No longer light-hearted, he hunched his shoulders and blew out a long sigh. “Look, I don't go along with what they're all saying, but it is strange, Jen. Those animals you rescued may not have anything to do with it, but that gannet you caught. Broken wing from a fishing net? Weird that is. It's probably got nothing to do with anything, of course. But people are saying birds are acting strange. Different types flocking together, and you know what the old saying says. Birds of a feather…Then this business down at the Well. If someone has been murdered…I just worry, Jen, that's all. You've got your mobile haven't you?”

“Yes, yes of course I have but―”

“Well, if anything happens, or you need something – anything – you get in touch with me. Straight away, day or night. You understand me, Jen?” She nodded dumbly. “Good. All right then, I'm off down to Mrs Toner's. Said I'd help her clear some gorse from her back garden. You take care, Jen. And remember what I said.”

Jenny watched him go, his bandy legs giving him a curious, wobbling gait. What could dear old Harry do if there ever was any trouble? She tried to force a smile, because she liked Harry, liked him a lot. But her smile faded and for a long time she just stood there, thinking dark thoughts.

She read it in the morning paper. What had happened at the dig. Someone had been killed, and the police were questioning certain suspects. But there was no mention of mysterious happenings, only that the Well had remained hidden for many, many years and almost everyone interviewed had completely forgotten about its existence. Any connection with animals acting strangely, especially birds, was not even intimated at.

Carefully folding the newspaper and putting it on top of her coffee table, Jenny went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. The business of the day was at an end and, if there were no other emergency calls, the evening was her own.

Then came the sound.

She rushed to the window, the tea forgotten, and gazed up into the sky.

There, circling around the animal-centre, in a perfect circle, where at least a dozen, possibly fifteen, birds, all of them calling - screeching more like - incredibly loudly. She stepped back from her window, hand clamped against her mouth.

What was going on?

Chapter Five

The parrot was very large, but extremely docile most of the time. Jenny regularly called to clip its claws. This occasion proved to be somewhat more serious. Mrs Moore, the owner, was looking pale and anguished when she opened the door to the young veterinary nurse.

“Oh Jenny, thank goodness. I'm at my wit's end.”

She stood aside to allow Jenny to walk into the hall. There was the parrot, Montgomery, standing on his perch in the lounge. He cocked his head to one side when Jenny walked up to him and cawed softly.

“What seems to be the problem, Mrs Moore?”

“He bit me, that's what the problem is. I've had him for nearly forty years and he's never done that to me. He's usually such a placid thing.” She stuck out her bandaged finger as if to underline what she just said. “Right through to the bone. Never known such pain.”

Jenny frowned, then looked at the parrot. Montgomery just stared right back, then loudly shrieked, “Hello darlin'!”

Jenny couldn't help but laugh, but Mrs Moore was anything but amused. “If he's becoming funny, I'm going to have to think about giving him away.”

“Funny? How do you mean, funny?”

“Well, yesterday for instance, he said something I've never taught him, and then he―”

“What was it he said?”

“Kill the man, kill the man. I don't know where he got that from.”

“But parrots can't talk, Mrs Moore. They only mimic.”