Austin shook his head. ‘He knows you’re OK. What else would he need to know?’
As she looked at Austin, established in the seat at the radio, Cass realised that he was never going tohelp her get in touch with her father. She’d either have to ask Ranulph or do it herself. She looked at the array of knobs and switches and added a third option: go without talking to her dad.
‘I would be so grateful if you could help me speak to him,’ she said, smiling in a way she hoped was appealing.
‘Oh?’ said Austin. ‘And just how grateful would that be?’
For a horrible moment Cass wondered if Austin was asking for sexual favours. Surely not! She had intended to be ingratiating, maybe to give the impression they were friends, but her attempt seemed to have gone badly wrong. She decided to seek clarification before she ran from the room. Although she felt sick, she managed to laugh. ‘What exactly do you mean, Austin?’
‘Oh, I’m sure you know.’
‘No,’ said Cass, being deliberately obtuse.
‘I just mean if you could be a bit more helpful to people other than Bastian, who you seem obsessed with, in my opinion.’
‘I’m not obsessed with Bastian,’ said Cass. ‘But his father was a friend of my father, which gives us a connection.’
‘Really?’ said Austin.
‘Yes, really. And what do you want me to do for you anyway?’
Austin paused; he appeared to be thinking what was in his best interests to say. ‘I want you to help me get off this island.’
Cass sighed. ‘That again. But what can I do? Errol isfixing up a pick-up for you so you can drive to the airport. I can’t book you a flight on a plane. I really don’t see how I can help!’
‘If I did manage to hook you up with your old dad for a phone call, he might be in a position to arrange a flight out of here. For us both.’
Cass thought for a few moments.
‘I’d really need to speak to him myself,’ she said at last. ‘And of course I’ll do anything reasonable to help you get off the island.’
She left the little building wondering what game Austin was playing. Of course he wanted to leave Dominica so he could submit his book in time for the deadline. He’d get to another island where they had the internet and it would be done.
But Bastian’s paper was also ready for submission, most of it on a memory stick, and the last bit, and the illustrations, ready to be put in her backpack. And surely, having come to Dominica to help Bastian find the petroglyph, getting his paper to the judges in time was just as important, if not more so?
How could she make this happen? It would not be easy.
Back on the veranda, in her favourite spot, Friendly came up to her. ‘You’re the only one, aren’t you?’ she said to him, fondling his ears. ‘You understand without having to have everything explained to you.’
At supper that evening Bastian had some worrying news. ‘There’s a rumour there’s going to be another hurricane.’
‘What?’ said Cass. ‘But surely there’s just been one. There can’t be another.’
‘It’s not like Christmas, honey,’ said Delphine. ‘You don’t get it over and then relax until the following year. It’s hurricane season: you can have several.’
‘But it’s not likely, is it?’ said Austin, oddly relaxed at the prospect. ‘And with no internet, how would you know there was going to be one?’
Bastian regarded him. ‘It’s only a rumour but a Kalinago friend told me there are signs.’
‘When might it hit?’ asked Ranulph.
‘Very hard to be precise even with modern technology,’ said Bastian.
‘Have the Kalinago people always been able to predict hurricanes?’ asked Ranulph.
‘There is a record of them warning early settlers when one was about to hit, but as the sky was blue and there was no wind, the settlers took no notice. When it did come, they accused the locals of witchcraft.’ Bastian also seemed surprisingly calm about the prospect of another hurricane.
‘Well, if there is going to be another hurricane, shouldn’t you organise a generator?’ said Austin. ‘It seems bizarre not to have one.’
