Rob looked at him as if he were an idiot. What was he doing on a trip like this if he had never heard of chum?

“It’s the bait to bring the seabirds to the boat.”

“What’s in it?” George asked.

“Fish heads, fish guts, popcorn, and the leftover oil from the chip shop in Heanor. We hire a cement mixer to mix it. It’s in drums in the back of Louis’ van.”

At last, when the drums were stacked on deck, they were allowed on board. They stood, leaning against the deck rail, looking at the lights of the town.

“We’re still missing one,” Rob said. “ Greg Franks.” He looked at his watch. “ We’ll give him ten minutes; then we’ll have to start without him.”

George, already mesmerised by the motion of the boat and the dream of new birds, hoped that Greg stayed away. He wanted no distractions. There is nothing, he thought, echoing Rob Earl’s words, more exciting than seawatching.

Terry, the thin adolescent, was preparing to cast off when there was the squeal of brakes as a car turned into the harbour carpark, shattering the quiet, robbing George of his dreams. The purple Mercedes had been replaced by a small red sports car. They heard the loud music of its stereo when the engine was turned off, then as soon as that was quiet, Greg Franks’ voice. He had lost his Bristol accent. He was rootless, classless. A modern Gypsy, George thought. Or a mercenary. Greg shouted to them that there were some friends in Exeter he had to look up. Business. They knew how it was.

As Terry helped him aboard and the engine started, he was still talking, shouting to be heard, so they missed the exact moment of departure. He hadn’t been in the country long, he said. He’d just done India, Pakistan, Nepal. Of course he’d been before, but there was some endemic stuff he still needed. No offence to Rob, of course, but really, travelling alone was the only way to do it. I mean, those group trips. All dudes and wrinklies. He paused and smiled around at them encouraging their agreement.

“I’m not talking about pelagics, of course,” he said. “ I mean, this is something else. I’ve been looking forward to this for months.” He beamed round at them again and winked. “ With the birds I hope to get this weekend,” he said, “I hope to extend my list considerably. You never know, I might even get close to Roger’s.”

Then, without waiting for an answer, he led them into the saloon and held court to them, mocking and entertaining them, not allowing them to forget him for a moment.