He was rather annoyed. He would have liked to be there—he was doing a special study of shearwaters—but someone should have been counting the seabirds. It was the first big storm of the season.

“We would have gone,” Nick said resentfully, “ but we thought that Jerry was meeting Charlie there and we didn’t want to intrude. By the time we realized that no one was in the hide, the tide was so high that we couldn’t get across. We’ve done a count from the west cliffs but we must have missed a lot.”

Jerry was pale and miserable. “ I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I meant to get up to meet him, but I overslept. I hope that Charlie didn’t wait for me.”

John watched Nick and Mark exchange glances laden with schoolboy significance. Jerry had overslept on previous weekends and had been seen to emerge from Pamela Marshall’s bedroom. There had developed a story, which had started as a joke and become half-believed myth, concerning Pamela’s sexual appetite and her seduction of Jerry. Later, John thought, the boys would snigger together, the myth would become more elaborate. He felt oddly old. Pamela Marshall was ignoring Jerry and the boys. She had brought her own expensive brand of marmalade, and she was spreading it on to toast. He realized that he was staring at her and turned away. As he did so he caught Jasmine Carson’s eye. She had seen him staring. She smiled maliciously. He no longer felt old, but painfully adolescent. He noticed that Jasmine’s hair was damp, and to relieve his embarrassment he said:

“Where have you been this morning, Miss Carson?”

She looked at him as if he were a fool. “I always take a walk before breakfast.”

Mark joined the conversation: “Did you do any seawatching? We didn’t see you on the west cliffs.”

“What I have been doing, young man, is my own business. Now, perhaps you would be kind enough to give me an accurate account of the birds you have seen.”

After breakfast John, Mark and Nick went out to seawatch. John did not stay to help Elizabeth to clear the plates. She understood the urgency. It was his work, his passion. He had missed the best stage of the tide, but it was possible that birds had been blown further into the estuary and that they would fly back past the island, towards the open sea as the tide ebbed. It was not only that he was anxious that he might miss some rare or beautiful bird; it was a matter of principle that everything should be counted and recorded.

His sense of urgency, almost of desperation, made him intolerant, increasingly irritated by Mark’s flippancy. As he had expected they were speculating about Jerry’s relationship with Pam. Nick’s pomposity suited his mood more closely. John had hoped that Jerry would come with them. He took his birdwatching seriously and had a flair for identification which seemed instinctive, but Jerry had said that he must apologize to Charlie and had hurried off towards the Wendy House. There was only enough room in the hide for four people to sit in comfort. This was Doctor Derbyshire’s usual excuse for the infrequency of his expeditions from the comfort of the observatory common room, and he had used it again today, saying at breakfast that he was prepared to sacrifice the opportunity of a place in the hide in favour of younger, more skilled observers. He had waited for the last statement to be contradicted, but it was not. John would have been happy to have had Jasmine Carson as a fourth companion in the hide—she was meticulous, yet enjoyed the birds—but Nick said that she made him feel as if he were still at school, so they had escaped immediately after breakfast.