Turbulent Priests (Dan Starkey 3) (37 page)

‘You do love him, don’t you, Dan?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘As much as me?’

‘As much as you love him?’

‘No, as much as you love me.’

‘Yes. I do. I really do. Honest.’

‘Thank you.’ She gave me a little kiss.

‘Thank
you
,’ I said.

She gave me another kiss, then slipped her hand from mine. ‘Come to bed, lover,’ she said.

She went ahead of me. I lingered by the cot. Little Stevie’s eyes were open, there was the merest hint of a smile on his face. He was a great wee fella, and so what if he wasn’t mine by blood. I’d look after him. I’d do him proud. Daddy Starkey.

Wrathlin might as well have been four years away as four months. He wouldn’t remember it. He wouldn’t remember Duncan, Duncan’s death, the bodies, the mania; he wouldn’t know how close he’d come to death himself, through illness, through my gambling his life on a hedgehog. Blissfully ignor ant, smiling there in his cot at nothing, not a care in the big bad world.

I stood for another moment by the door, then slowly turned down the dimmer switch. ‘Good night, son,’ I said, and closed the door softly after me.

‘Good night, dad.’

I was back through the door in a flash . . .

Author’s Note

Wrathlin Island is a real place, and well worth a visit, lots of birdlife, although it goes without saying that the people and most of the places mentioned in this story are completely fictitious, with the exception of the Messiah, who
is
coming, so get your act together. Radon, likewise,
does
exist and can be found at varying levels in many parts of the United Kingdom. I would like to thank Dr H. C. H. Glochamner of the Department of the Environment’s Natural Gases division for his valued assistance in researching this novel. I would like to, but he doesn’t exist, nor does his department. Dan Starkey will return shortly.