Despite the barren room and the hard surface, Dougal sleeps soundly. In the morning, the room is full of grey light.
"Lovely out," he remarks. Thunder clouds loom and on the horizon, lightning flashes. He stands up and stretches. "What'll we do today Ted? God it's early," he adds, looking at his watch, "It's only…it's only…" he squints, trying to remember which one is the big hand and which is the small one, and what it means when each of them points to the little numbers around the edges. That's Ted's thing, really.
"Ted? This hand is pointing to the eleven and that one's pointing to the three. What does that mean?" Ted doesn't answer. Dougal gives him a shake. He doesn't move. "OK. Never mind," Dougal shrugs. "I'll see if Jack's around." He creeps through to Jack's room, feeling naughty. He's been told several times that he must never, never, never wake Jack up before twelve O'clock, and only then, with Ted's permission. Jack is not there.
"Must have gone out," says Dougal, and goes downstairs to unpack the suitcases. He finds Jack slumped in a corner of the living room snoring, several empty alcohol bottles all around him. The suitcases are already ransacked. Mostly clothes, but in amongst them he finds a children's bible, a fluff-covered toothbrush, his He-Man bed-spread, his tartan pyjamas, his night T-shirt, some shaving foam, an electric razor, a comb, Tek Wars, The Shining, So You're a Priest Who's Going to America, a few board games including Ludo and Buckaroo, a video tape of Jaws, a wallet full of dollars, and a pair of very very very very very very very dark blue socks.
"Won't be getting much breakfast out of that lot," says Dougal, starting to panic. He glances at Jack. Jack has two extra sets of arms, three extra sets of eyes, and has grown thick black hair all over his body. Dougal gives a yell, backs away and blinks, and Jacks goes back to his normal self. Must be the hunger.
"Ted? I want my breakfast and Mrs Doyle's not here." Ted's mouth gapes open. "Ted," he shakes him. Ted is stone cold. "Ted? You're not dead too now, are you?" He waits for a confirmation or denial. "If you're not dead, stand up." He waits. "Fair enough." He picks up the phone to call Doctor Sinnott. It rings two times.
"Hello, Craggy Island General Practitioner's," says Doctor Sinnott.
"Er, no, this is Craggy Island Parochial House," says Dougal.
"Yes, that's what I meant. Is it Jack?"
"No, it's Dougal here. Jack's fine. But Mrs Doyle's disappeared I think Ted's dead."
There is a sharp intake of breath. "Are…are you sure?"
"Yes, I think so. I didn't see her when I went downstairs this morning anyway."
"I meant Ted. Are you sure he's dead?"
"Oh, right. Yes, I can't see any empty floor polish bottles, but he looks pretty dead to me."
"Have you done any tests?"
"I asked him to get up if he wasn't dead, and he didn't get up."
"Er, right. Stay there. I'll be round soon."
"OK, and bring breakfast. Bring jam. I haven't had anything yet and there's nothing in the fridge because there's no fridge."
There is a click as the phone is replaced on the other end. Whistling, Dougal throws down the receiver, opens the windows and crosses the room to go downstairs and carry on unpacking the suitcases while he waits.
Doctor Dinnott arrives just after the clock strikes one. It takes Dougal a minute to remember that Mrs Doyle isn't there, and that he is going to have to answer the door.
"Did you bring jam?"
He has brought it, and Dougal digs the it out of the jar with his fingers while he watches Doctor Dinnott listen to Ted's heart with the Magic Stethoscope. He hopes Ted is dead, just for now, because he knows that eating jam for breakfast straight from the jar is against the rules – not to mention without a spoon. He still remembers Ted's reaction to him trying to lap up his soup in front of Sister Maria. It's the only time he's ever run away alone, and even then he came back before it got too dark.
"Father, I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, but he's dead."
Dougal licks the jam off each of his fingers before answering. "Is he? Fair enough, so." He starts to leave the room.
"Do you not want me to call someone?"
"Why?"
"Well…he's dead."
"Ach, don't worry. Maybe he'll look better in the morning."
"He's dead, Father."
"Well…two mornings then. I mean, Jack was dead and look at him now – he's fine!"
"Yeees, where is he?"
"On the floor in the kitchen." As he speaks there is an indistinct crash and a shout from downstairs.
The doctor looks around the empty room. "I think I'm going to…I think I might just call someone."