10

Come on, you guys!

I run to the rocks. I dive in the sea. Jeez, it’s so cold!

I pull myself out of the water, to check I’m OK. Then I turn to look at the damage.

Already the flames have burst through the upstairs windows. There’s banging and popping. Stuff’s going off like fireworks. Blimey, that was close!

Soon the fire is coming through the roof. Jets of flame, high into the air! Even from here, the heat’s incredible.

And then the smoke, that horrible choking smoke starts billowing out and upwards. Smoke from the sofas, the mattresses, the roof timbers… That’s what nearly got me, but it’s what’ll save me, too.

Because people will see it. People just have to see it. As long as it doesn’t rain too hard, it’ll keep going for ages and ages. They can’t possibly miss it, even on the mainland. They can’t ignore me this time!

I make my way to the other holiday house, keeping well back from the fire. First thing I do is drink a load of water. I couldn’t care less any more whether it’s poisoned. I’m dying of thirst anyway.

I check my burns. My hands and face are coming up in blisters. They hurt like hell.

I find some ointment in the bathroom and dab it on. There’s a big roll of bandage stuff, so I wrap it round my hands. Gently, like.

Then I get some spare clothes and wrap a scarf round my head, gently as well, to protect myself from the smoke and fumes. I head over to the slipway to wait for the rescue party.

Someone’s got to see this! I mean, come on, guys, I know you can’t get a fire engine out here, but you’re surely not going to let a whole, perfect holiday house burn to the ground, are you? Not without checking out what’s going on! I mean, it must be worth a fortune!

And what if there’s a real live person out here, have you thought of that? How else could it have gone on fire? I mean, it’s not an electrical fault – there isn’t any electricity!

So what about that missing kid? The one you’ve been talking about on the radio all week. You know, Ben Hastings? You haven’t forgotten him already, have you?

I’m coughing still. My face and hands are killing me. But it was worth it. Surely it was worth it?

Trouble is, the wind’s blowing all the smoke out to sea. Come on, wind, change direction!

I’m terrified the fire’ll go out before anyone’s spotted it. So I drag a mattress over – the one I’ve been sleeping on – from the other house. I’ve got to keep the smoke going.

It’s still too hot to go near, of course – I may be stupid, but I’m not that stupid. So I leave the thing outside till I can get a bit closer.

I’m sorry, island. Bit by bit I’m destroying you. But I just want to live!

I go for a walk, down by the shore. It is a heck of a lot cooler, away from the flames. I’m looking up, every now and again, for signs of rescue. A helicopter? A giant fire extinguisher?

I’m looking out to sea. A boat? That stupid kayak again?

My friend the seal pops up. I can see the alarm in his eyes, even from here.

‘It’s all right,’ I tell him. ‘I won’t hurt you. I’m just burning the island.’

But I’m not, am I? Because the island isn’t a holiday house or a fishing hut. It’s a shame I had to burn them, but what choice did I have? No, the island is the rocks and the beaches. It’s the birds and the flowers. The wind and the waves. The sand and the soil. It’s the crabs in the rockpools. The rabbits, the hares, the cries of the gulls.

The island will still be around long after I’ve stopped bothering it – and it’ll have one more story to tell.

Just like I’ll still be around, long after Fug and the Thumps have stopped bothering me. Well, that’s the hope, anyway.