‘Yep, yep. It all went well. I passed on your good wishes to the bride and groom …
‘Delighted. They’re all delighted! …
‘Only thing to report is there’s been some … um, a small amount of, er, vandalism at the heliport. A prank. No real harm done …
‘You don’t want to know. Really. Being sorted now …
‘Yep. Yep. The Robinsons will be down next week …
‘Change of plans …
‘Will do. Lots of interest in taking over the Easter weeks. We’ll accept the best offer of …
‘Aha. Aha. Builders’ accommodation all sorted …
‘Yep. Very unfortunate. The new constable came over from St Mary’s to have a word. Read them the riot act. The uniform had a sobering effect, ha ha …
‘No, no, of course it’s no joke. Agree entirely. It only takes 30one drinking game to get out of hand like that and …
‘No, no, no. I’m sure there won’t be a complaint, no. We’ve offered the parents a week next year free of charge …
‘Yep. The lad was discharged after he’d sobered up. Gig-championship levels of stupidity …
‘Pretty much the entire bottle of vodka. The blue stuff. Stomach pumped. All ship shape now …
‘There’s the …
‘Oh, okay. Okay. Yep, yep, yep. Catch you later.’
Bobby puts the phone in his pocket and starts walking up to the farm – if he cuts across from here it will be as quick as going home to get his bike and cycling round. Sam should be up there sorting out the tractor engine for Farmer Michael and Bobby needs a stern word with Sam about the golf buggy repairs – four out of action today! Unheard of! All the rest will be needed for Alice’s birthday bash at the community centre, which means there’ll be none available for guests. Totally unacceptable.
Complaints are the last thing he needs right now. He has more than enough on his plate.
Sam is an excellent engineer and handyman, or at least he was when he first came to the island. But he’s too fond of the sauce. So much so it’s being remarked upon, and that’s saying something here. Fine for a single man like Bobby himself – although he has cut right back after that unfortunate business last year (it involved nudity; don’t ask) – but a damn shame when you’ve a young family to care for. Bobby feels sorry for Sam’s wife, poor Christie – the last thing she needs is a drunk to look after along with the four young boys she already has to cope with.
He walks on. It’s a warm day and he’s already sweating, but the exercise will help soothe his anxiety. 31
After sorting Sam, he plans to check in on the wedding reception, then head down to the community centre to take a birthday card over for Alice. Lovely to see the old girl again. Retired to Penzance – not a place he’d have chosen, but she said she wanted to feel as near to the island as she could.
‘But that would be Land’s End,’ he’d replied.
‘I don’t want to be crawling with bloody emmets,’ she’d snorted, trying to stop her tears. ‘And I want to be able to get my shopping without a song and a dance, thank you very much.’
How long ago was that – when Alice was asked to leave? Eight or more years back now. It doesn’t seem that long.
That final scene – leaving the island – will come for him too, one day in the not-too-distant future. Years ago, there was some leeway in how long a worker might keep going. Now it’s encouraged that you retire when you’re still at the top of your game. There’s no room for passengers here; no excess fat. Bobby glances down at his belly, swiftly glances up again.
Miss Elisabeth is the last of the old guard, the only islander working long past retirement age, and even The Family wouldn’t dare to mess with her. Old Betty knows where the bodies are buried.
No one is allowed to live on Tresco after they retire. As soon as you stop working, you have to leave; accommodation is linked to your job on the island. In theory you might go to St Mary’s, but, thanks to second homes and timeshares, the prices are well beyond the means of mere workers. The same for most of Cornwall now, with or without a sea view, thinks Bobby bleakly.
He does not like thinking of leaving his home and his friends, so he doesn’t.
He makes his way through the field of Farmer Michael’s 32happy cows, greeting those who amble over to sniff him. He strokes one on its tufty head then trails his hands along the tops of grasses on the edge of the field, admiring the splashes of poppies. It’s a rare moment of calm in his hectic day.
He strides on. So much to sort out. Squeaky-bottom time with the accounts. Even with a fair number of bookings this summer, they’ve still not recovered from what is locally known as The Quiet Times, globally known as the pandemic. And there are always mixed reviews on TripAdvisor from the hoi polloi who pop over for a day. Of course it’s bloody expensive here! This island is unique! What do they expect, Butlins? And now some ridiculous endangered newt might put paid to the building work up on the site of the former hotel. Always something unforeseen to deal with.
Thinking of endangered, at least the Egyptian vulture is back. Well, it is according to Vlad. No one would take much notice of Vlad in normal circumstances – he’s one of the more committed drinkers, like Sam – but Bobby has enthusiastically stoked the lad’s recollection of what he might have seen up near Pentle Bay, because a rumour like that will bring over the birdwatchers in their droves. Sure, most of them will stay on St Mary’s or brave Bryher’s campsite, only visiting for the day, but every little helps. Weird-looking thing, that creature – but birds have never been Bobby’s bag, so to speak.
A plan forms itself as he crosses the next field. He considers asking one of the girls who post on social media if they could perhaps whip up a rumour into a story; fluff up the vulture gossip. A blurry picture from the year the bird really did alight on the island might set things off nicely. It’s only a white lie, just a bit of fun like the Loch Ness Monster. 33
The screech of a sickly tractor greets his arrival at the farm. Bobby calls out, ‘Hello!’ and Sam’s head appears from within the engine. Bobby smiles and waves as he approaches, belying the fact that Sam is in for a reprimand. The engineer stands and wipes his greasy hands on a rag. There are dark shadows beneath his eyes and a nasty bruise on his cheek.
Bobby isn’t surprised the young man looks so exhausted – three young lads and a baby in one tiny cottage. He can understand why he might choose to stay drinking in the Old Ship rather than going home, but that’s no excuse for letting his work slide. Much as he dislikes this part of his job, Bobby has to give him a verbal warning.
The tractor engine makes a horrible clattering sound as it dies. Bobby’s no expert, but it sounds totally knackered. And it’s not just Michael’s tractor having issues – there are some pretty large cracks in the smooth running of the island machine, truth be told. It’s a worrying time all round, plus some of the natives are restless – wage demands as usual. When they sign their contracts employees have no idea how expensive it is to live here: the Island Shop is extortionate, and if the weather’s rough and they can’t get over to the Co-op on St Mary’s and deliveries from the mainland are held up, it’s the only place to buy anything. Bobby himself has a cupboard neatly stacked with dried goods and tinned foods, but youngsters these days rarely plan ahead.
Despite the challenges, Bobby adores his job, and he would do anything for The Family and the island. He’s given his entire adult life to this place. Yes, there was one very brief period when he’d thought he might start again, somewhere warm like South America but— 34
He shakes his head to rid himself of those silly dreams and strides towards Sam, as much as he can stride with his rather stumpy legs.
Sam needs to up his game. Everyone does. They all need to dig deep to make this season work. This island is a special place, a fragile ecosystem. This is the quintessential English idyll. Some say it is the resting place of King Arthur. Others disparage it as a bunch of alcoholics clinging to a rock.
Bobby would defend it with his life.