Billy Dix was in a complete state of flux. His territory had been overrun by a marauding bunch of invaders. Boys were imps, and that was one thing, but these blighters were fully fledged demons, and descending in great numbers to boot. They were moving across the beach like a swarm of locusts, prying and poking, digging and disturbing stuff; destroying wonderful little creatures with their great clomping boots. And, damn and blast it to hell, if that weren’t enough they were scaring the guillemots as well.
“Devils! A whole ’ost of the bloody things. I’s got to see to this. I’s got to send ’em back where they come from, and quick about it.”
He could barely contain himself as he scaled down the rock-face, heedless of the danger of a misplaced foot as he put on extra speed to catch up with and tackle what he saw as the enemy. At the bottom of the rock-face he scrambled across the wet rocks and only just missed an impromptu dip in the sea when he skidded on a slimy patch of kelp on the edge of the fishing rock.
He clambered across the uneven flange and jumped down onto the beach, his boots leaving heavy footprints in the sand. He started up right away. “Oi! Get away. Be off with ye.” Arms waving and shrieking his outrage, he ran towards the gang of men who, by this time, were about midway across the stretch of sand. Several heads turned to stare at him. When he caught up he began to weave in and out amongst the men, avoiding touching them as if they were carrion and shrieking what most regarded as brainless invective. Not everyone ignored him.
“Oi’ll not ’ave this, by God! Get off moy beach. You’ll scare the Angel. I’s got to protect the Angel. Be off with the lot of ye. Oi’ll not stand for it. Devils – you’re all devils. Get away. Be gone, I say. I shall devour the trails of moy enemies. I shall not fear to tread in the Devil’s footsteps and wipe them out. Be gone! Back to hell, the lot of ye. I shall defeat all devils with the Lord’s sword.”
“Is he quoting scripture?” Someone asked.
“I don’t know,” came the bemused reply. “Bloody barking, he is. I s’ppose he ought to be locked up. Hop it, Billy. Take no notice. There’s no real harm in him.”
“Are you sure? He looks pretty violent to me.”
Billy ignored all demands for him to withdraw and continued to harry the search party as they slowly progressed across the sand.
On returning to The Smugglers’ Steps the men gathered together and someone suggested they might as well be thorough and check out the caves. Heads wagged, and a few expressed doubts that a young girl would venture there alone. Just the same, several men broke away to search all three caves.
When Billy spotted several devils climbing up to the caves, he became almost apoplectic with unrestrained fervour. Seething and spitting his fury, he pushed his way through the throng and ran towards the cliff face. “You keep out of them there caves. They belongs to the Angel. The Devil’s flame is on your tails. I sees it, I do. And I’s got buckets galore, filled to brimmin’ with holy water to douse your fire.”
As he attempted to scale the cliff someone caught hold of his foot and jerked him back down. Billy fell on a sharp boulder but sprang to his feet in an instant, blood dripping from a deep gash that cut a swathe through his palm. Undeterred, he turned about to make another attempt at following the climbers but willing hands came from nowhere to grab his arms. They pushed him to the ground and pinned him down. His unrestrained cries of protestation were suddenly joined by other equally strident cries from above, and all heads turned as one to see two men standing in the mouth of the end cave, one waving.
“I didn’t catch that. What did he say? Oh, for crying out loud, will someone put a gag on this barmy old geezer?”
Tired of Billy’s noisy interference and without further ado they looked around for something to tether him to the old mooring ring, one of only two fortuitously still attached to the cliff face. With the deftness of a slippery eel, Billy threw off his human restraints, suddenly sprang loose and bolted for The Smugglers’ Steps. Dodging and darting to escape capture by those running after him, he reached the steps and frantically started to scramble up to the top, all the while spouting vitriol at his pursuers.
“Oh, let him go. Just so long as he’s out of our hair. Don’t come back or we’ll tie you up. You hear, Billy?”
The men began to gather below the caves, their expressions grave.
All the way along the cliff edge Billy continued to shriek at the men below, only pausing now and again to make sure none of the devils was following him.
*
Amelia had dragged out the telescope to the widow’s walk and watched events unfolding on the beach, growing more disturbed with each passing minute, though no one would have guessed it from her calm exterior.
If they took Billy away she would have no one. Why couldn’t he just stay quiet for once? She knew Billy couldn’t help it; Daddy had told her. When she saw the men take hold of him, for once emotion bubbled to the surface and she walked around in a meandering circle, wondering what to do.
If they took Billy in, someone would have to speak up for him – but who? Would Mrs Pierpoint help? She had been a big help when Daddy had died. That was a terrible day, and the one time she was really thankful for Rita Blackney. It was she who had gone to fetch someone. A doctor had come, and then a policeman. And then some other men had come and taken Daddy away. Terrible, it was all so terrible. Just as it had all gone quiet and Amelia didn’t know what to do with herself and she was worried sick about what was going to happen, Mrs Pierpoint had come. She had explained everything to Amelia and promised her that everything would be all right.
But Mrs Pierpoint hadn’t visited her since and Rita wasn’t due in today. So who was going to speak up for Billy?
In an unusual flurry of movement she dashed back to the telescope, knocking the arm in her rush to see what they were doing to Billy. Her heart beat furiously as she swung the arm about to find and home in on The Smugglers’ Steps.
Then all was calm once more when she spotted Billy’s flailing figure running dangerously close to the cliff edge as he made his way towards Cliff House. No one appeared to be following him. Good! No doubt he would soon calm down once he got amongst her friends. They didn’t care how much he shouted, they were used to him.
*
Some two hours later when they lowered a covered stretcher down onto the beach, Amelia wept for the first time since Daddy had died. It brought everything back in a horrible rush. It was only the third time since the age of eleven that she had shed a tear.