‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Nigel raises his voice. ‘I don’t wish to be alarmist, but your ship will sail in an hour and the first mate wants you back. That was him on the phone. We don’t have the supplies to feed extra mouths and anyone choosing to stay will be relying on reindeer meat and krill to survive the winter.’
They’ll leave now, thank God. They won’t risk being left behind.
‘What did she look like?’ Jack asks and Felicity wants to kick him.
‘Young? Middle-aged? Blonde? Dark?’ he prompts. ‘There are five women in the team and none of them carry knives to my knowledge.’
They all carry knives, and Jack knows it. Working in this environment, knives are essential.
‘Did anyone actually see her?’ Jack asks.
Around the room, eyes drop to the floor.
‘Anyone?’ he repeats.
‘It was dark,’ someone offers. ‘Couldn’t see more than five feet in any direction.’
‘She was called Bambi,’ someone adds. ‘At least that’s what I heard.’
A shudder runs through Felicity’s body. Will they never leave?
Jack turns to the man who’s spoken. ‘Bambi? You sure?’
‘Bamber, I thought,’ someone else says.
‘Know anyone called Bamber, Nige?’ Jack asks.
Nigel shakes his head. ‘Last call down at the harbour,’ he says.
Grumbling, frustrated at finding themselves in a place where the usual support systems simply do not exist, the group finally leaves Nigel’s office. Looking troubled, Jack follows them.
‘When’s the ship due?’ Felicity demands as soon as she and Nigel are alone.
‘And a very good morning to you too, Felicity.’ Nigel pulls out his chair and collapses into it. ‘I hear it went well up at the lake.’
‘Sorry. I can see you’re having a bad day. It’s important, though. Do you have an ETA?’
Nigel sighs. ‘Tomorrow morning, reasonably early. Bit later if the wind gets up even more. There’s some heavy seas out there.’
‘Not today? Jack said it was today.’
‘It could have been, but they hit some bad weather and had to slow down.’
Not today. She will kill Jack. She sinks into the nearest chair and feels sweat break out between her shoulder blades.
‘You’ll be wanting this.’ Nigel hands over the document she’s already spotted on his desk. The ship’s passenger manifest. The ship is called the Snow Queen.
‘Thanks.’ She spins the chair around so that Nigel won’t see her hands shaking and runs a finger down the first page. Mostly European sounding names, some South American. Nothing. Second page, nothing, nothing. Two more to go. Her fingers run ahead too fast and she has to start the third page again. It’s clear. Hope is building as she reaches the fourth and last page. She’s halfway down. He isn’t on the ship. It’s going to be OK after all. Then—
‘There’s a page missing,’ she says.
Nigel is typing, a slow, two-fingered operation. ‘I hear you’re off to Bird Island in the morning,’ he says.
‘I said I’d give Jan and Frank a hand with the fledging. Nigel, why is there a page missing?’
She holds the last page out to him. ‘Page four of five.’ She shows him the numbering system in the bottom right hand corner. ‘There should be a page five.’
Infuriatingly slowly, Nigel takes the sheets and checks each one. ‘I suppose so. I think this is all that came through. I can request it again, but it may take a while.’
This is too cruel. ‘Can you? Please?’
Nigel is frowning at her. ‘What’s up, love?’
She can’t stay here. She gets up and turns for the door. ‘Thanks Nigel,’ she says. ‘Wow, is that the time. I have to pack.’
Back in her room, Felicity locks the door. From the top shelf of her wardrobe she takes the kit bag she’s had ready for days and starts to lay things out on her bed. Water flagon, two torches, one hand-held, one headtorch. The bag slides off the bed, spilling its contents noisily over the floor and she has to fight back the urge to burst into tears.
Deep breath. Start again.
Cooking pot, tin opener, sleeping bag, change of clothes. Everything is here. She’s ready. Groundsheet and sleeping mat, first aid kit, matches, toilet paper and insect repellent. She’s ready. She needs to go today, not hours from now when Nigel finally gets the missing page.
She closes her eyes, takes a moment, and carries on. In a waterproof bag she has charts and a compass. A separate bag holds the food she’s either bought or stolen – she thinks she’ll need nine meals, twelve at the most – and water purification tablets. Finally, in the inner pocket of her kitbag are the knives that Jack has just denied she carries.
A knock sounds on her door. She starts, and then freezes.
‘Only me,’ a voice calls. Jack.
Felicity looks in panic around the room, at her all-too-obvious preparations for flight.
‘Hang on a sec.’ She pushes the knives out of sight and hides the charts before unlocking and opening the door. He stands in the corridor, smiling and expectant. ‘I’ve come for my briefing.’
She asked him to come. How could she have forgotten?
Jack’s head lifts, his eyes focusing over her shoulder. He’s seen her kit on the bed. ‘So, what am I in for?’ he asks.
She has no choice but to let him in. Ignoring the pile of stuff on the bed, praying he won’t ask her about it, because she will have no idea what to say, she steps over to the cage on her desk. Its two occupants start up again when they see her.
‘You weigh them every morning,’ she tells Jack. ‘They have ten per cent of their body weight, five times a day.’
Nervously, Jack lowers his finger into the cage. Elsa reaches up and wraps her beak around it. ‘Half their body weight every day?’ he queries. ‘Bloody hell, this one’s got a nip on it.’
‘King penguins grow quickly.’ Felicity opens her wardrobe to show him the feed timetable on the inside of the door.
‘I’ve made up enough formula to last till I’m back. Kitchen fridge, labelled Elsa and Anna.’ She is talking too fast. She needs to slow down. Jack is already suspicious. ‘You need to heat it to thirty-five degrees,’ she continues. ‘And you feed them with this.’ She lifts the syringe that she keeps next to the cage.
‘Formula?’ he asks.
‘Mixture of cod, krill, saline and vitamins. They wolf it down. It’s really not hard. And I’ve left the recipe in case I’m delayed.’ She takes a step towards the door. ‘Thanks, Jack, I really appreciate it.’
Bolder now, Jack runs his hand over the soft brown feathers of Anna’s head. He doesn’t see her glance at the wall clock.
‘You are nuts,’ he says.
He means her, not the penguin baby. His eyes move, once again, to the stuff on the bed.
‘How long will you be up at Bird?’ he asks.
‘Couple of days,’ she tells him. ‘Maybe three.’
Three days and the ship will sail away again, taking with it all its passengers. Three days and this will be over. She might not have to go at all. If the passenger list shows up in the next few hours, if the name she’s looking for isn’t on it, that’s it. She can get drunk tonight and wake up tomorrow with a raging hangover, knowing she’s safe.