Chapter 16 The Health-giving properties of fish suppers

'It isn't a real fish supper,' said Christopher. 'It's a bag of money. Lots of it. Silly money. Monopoly money.'

Very bravely or very foolishly, still brandishing the parcel of money, Christopher moved backwards, towards, he hoped, the mineshaft. He was relying on the fact that Simon and Feroze wouldn't want the money to go over the edge; they would have to stop him before he got there if they wanted it the parcel. Feroze moved in the same direction, but gingerly, as if he wasn't sure where solid ground finished and the top of the mineshaft started.

Several things happened in such quick succession that it was only because Christopher was running on adrenalin that he was able to understand and react to them.

He felt the ground start to give way under his left foot; Feroze rushed towards him and grabbed for the parcel; Christopher flung himself forwards, resisting the momentum that threatened to propel him backwards, and let the parcel fly out of his hand just as Feroze came at him from the side; Feroze got hold of the parcel, but in doing so, lost his footing and disappeared with it into the big hole that opened up in the ground beneath him. Christopher didn't see him disappear; it was just that when he struggled to his feet and looked round, Feroze wasn't there. Simon was still there, but now he was at the wrong end of the gun he had been holding. Somehow Amaryllis had reached him, disarmed him and had him at gunpoint in the time it had taken Christopher to go headlong on to the springy wet turf and Feroze to fall into the shaft.

Big Dave arrived on the scene, puffing and panting.

'What the hell's going on?' he demanded. 'Where did that other guy go?'

Christopher, shaking like a leaf now, pointed towards the hole in the ground.

'We'd better call an ambulance,' he said.

'I don't think it'll do any good,' said Big Dave, shaking his head. 'When I was a young kid one of my pals was messing about and fell into one of those things. Not here, across in West Lothian, it was, near Polkemmet. There's a country park about there now. The shafts go down a long long way. They thought they would never get him out. Only the parents insisted on it... It was filled in after that.'

Christopher shivered - or had he never stopped shivering the last time? He felt as if he had always been as cold as this, and would never get warm again.

'Dave, can you call the police and tell them where we are?' said Amaryllis calmly. 'And maybe an ambulance for Christopher? We could do with getting him checked out.'

'I'm fine,' said Christopher through chattering teeth. He was irritated to see that Simon Fairfax still regarded him with the same contemptuous smile, even though Simon was now at an obvious disadvantage.

'I think you'd better go and sit in the car with Dave,' said Amaryllis.

'No, I can't leave you here with him,' said Christopher stubbornly.

'Well, if you're going to stay here, make sure you keep out from under my feet and don't do anything to distract me,' she said with an air of authority. 'Go and sit there, under that bush.'

So Christopher's big adventure came to an end with him sitting damply and, he felt, ignominiously under a wild rose bush which gave little if any shelter from the rain, still shivering in spasms, waiting to be taken home.

Just after Dave returned from the car and reported that all the emergency services were on their way, the tall American arrived.

'I guess I'd better take my money back now,' he said, after hearing most of the story from Amaryllis as Christopher sat shivering. 'It's the property of the US government.'

'I don't think you really want to do that,' said Amaryllis.

'Why not?'

She smiled. 'It'll take a bit of excavation. And you might find out where the bodies are buried.'

'Bodies?'

With a glance back at Christopher, Amaryllis led the American over towards the mine shaft and held a whispered conversation with him. He went off, apparently in a huff, barging past the wild rose bush and sending a small shower of scented droplets over Christopher.

'Don't worry, we've seen the last of him,' said Amaryllis. 'We'll get you home as soon as the police arrive to take this low-life away.'

'And the other one,' said Big Dave, gesturing towards the other man, the one who had followed on a motorbike and who was now securely tied up with rope from Feroze's rucksack.

Home - Christopher had a sudden thought.

'You didn't leave Faisal on his own, did you?' he asked Amaryllis anxiously.

'Of course not. Jemima stayed with him.'

He wanted to ask her how the hell they had found him, but he decided not to distract her with difficult questions while she still had Simon in her sights. She certainly was focussing on him, and if looks could have killed he would have perished instantly under that frozen glare. Christopher thought it was just as well he had stayed around after all - she might have been tempted to send Simon down the mine shaft after his colleague, and then they would all have been in much more trouble.

Quite a bit later, after all the drama of the police cars, sirens screeching, tyres squealing, lights flashing, people asking questions, and ambulances, ditto, and a paramedic who was reluctant to let him go, Christopher sat in the relative safety of Amaryllis's car, being driven home. He found he didn't want to talk about anything, and that was fine with Amaryllis and Big Dave too. They had wrapped him in blankets, which Amaryllis said she always carried in the boot in case she got stranded in the middle of nowhere on a snowy nigh; but Big Dave winked at him and muttered something about being made to give up the blankets off his bed. They put him in the back seat, which was just as well since he really didn't think he could have withstood another white-knuckle ride that day. He just wanted to bask in the feeling of being safe at last, of trusting other people to take care of things for once. He knew the feeling wouldn't last long so he wanted to savour it, in silence.

The silence was broken with a vengeance once he got home. Marina and Faisal, both squeaky-voiced with relief, came rushing out of the house and clung on to him like limpets. Jemima Stevenson stood on the front doorstep and beamed widely, flashing the new false teeth she had got to celebrate her seventieth birthday or some such anniversary. Seeing the children, Christopher remembered about Caroline and the hospital roof, which minor drama now seemed lost in the mists of time, although it could have ended even more disastrously than the other incident.

He turned to Amaryllis.

'Is Caroline all right?'

He wasn't sure why he instinctively turned to her, but he had a feeling, probably illusory and dangerous, that she would know the answer.

'Sleeping,' said Amaryllis.

'Why shouldn't Mum be all right?' said Marina, suddenly suspicious.

'It's OK, Marina,' said Christopher. 'She had a bit of a funny turn earlier, which was why I had to go to Kirkcaldy in the first place, but they're looking after her now.'

That was about the full extent of what he was allowed to say for a while. Marina and Faisal ushered him carefully into the house, where they sat him down on the best chair - it had been his father's, but Christopher hardly ever got the chance to sit in it - and brought him a cup of sweetened dark brown tea. He didn't want to say to them that he had been given tea by the police, who for some reason had flasks of the stuff with them, and then by the ambulancemen (ditto) and had had enough of it. A stiff drink would have been more use, although in view of Caroline's problem he tended not to drink at home.

He sat staring into space for a while, vaguely conscious of people murmuring in the background. The word 'doctor' cropped up from time to time, mainly in the voice of Mrs Stevenson, then there was 'brandy', a recurring theme of Big Dave's, and 'work through it in his own time' from Amaryllis. He had the feeling once again that Amaryllis knew what she was talking about. He looked up at one point and caught her eye, and there was a kind of respect and understanding there that he had never seen from her before.

He must have dropped off to sleep for a while soon after that, nestled into the blanket that smelt disconcertingly of Big Dave but was oddly comforting. Later he dragged himself back to consciousness and noticed it was dark outside, but someone had left a lamp on in the room. He was grateful for that, since otherwise he might have imagined himself in the mineshaft after all.

'How are you?' said someone. He was suddenly wide awake.

'Amaryllis?'

'Yes, it's me. Do you need anything?'

'I don't think so.'

'Hot chocolate? Brandy? Toast?'

'Toast would be great.' With full consciousness Christopher tried to remember when he had last eaten. It must have been breakfast time. With an effort of will-power he started to think about the things that had happened since then. Amaryllis must have used extra-sensory perception to detect this change in his thought patterns, for she said, 'Don't try and remember everything at once. Wait till I've got the toast. Will two slices be enough?'

Sitting wrapped in the blanket, the smell of toast drifting in from the kitchen, the sound of a friendly argument between the children out in the hall, waiting for Amaryllis to come back, Christopher felt happier than he had ever done. What a pity it wouldn't last!