Jack looked at his watch as he headed through reception. Half past two. He was supposed to have met the team and had a coffee with them before being picked up by Melissa at four for the drive up to Glenrothes. But now he had an hour and a half to kill.
He wondered what he was going to tell her. She had been every bit as keen for him to get this studentship as he was to get it himself. The alternative was for him to carry on as a freelance wildlife photographer, spending months at a time out of touch with her in distant lands. For a couple of weeks now, he had been sitting on an offer of a six month commission in Thailand, Malaysia and Indonesia at the end of the year. He didn't want to do it because it would mean missing Christmas and New Year with her and being away for the birth of his first child, but now it seemed that he was going to have to take it.
It was raining outside, but he thought it best not to stay in the building. Horace Tipperlong had made it clear to him that he would see to it that security was called if he did. He walked aimlessly round the Bailrigg campus before eventually returning to Farrer Avenue at four, to find Melissa and Kiki waiting for him in the car.
"Jack!" she exclaimed, getting out of the car. "What's happened? You look like you've seen a ghost!"
"That's because I have," replied Jack. "I was interviewed by someone who I had long assumed to be dead."
"Not Dr Johns then?"
"No. He's in hospital. He had a stroke last night. But we really need to go and see him before we set off if we can. Because unless he can somehow intervene, Lancaster isn't going to happen."
"You can tell me all about it as we go," she replied. "But first, you need to get changed. You're soaked to the skin. How long have you been outside in this rain for?"
"An hour and a half," said Jack. "Could you drive? I'm not in a mood for it."
They made their way to the Royal Lancaster Infirmary, where Jack found a place to get changed into a sweatshirt and jeans before they went to reception to enquire about Dr Johns. The receptionist said that he was in intensive care and not taking visitors, so they left a get well soon card for him and headed onto the M6, stopping at Tebay services for supper at about five.
"What's the deal with this fellow, Tripalong or whatever you call him?" asked Melissa.
"He's someone we encountered on one of our adventures," explained Jack. "The one in the Hebrides when I was sixteen, where we were left stranded on an uninhabited island by a gang of gun runners who had kidnapped uncle Bill. All a massive misunderstanding really. We all thought he was one of the gang because although he said he was an ornithologist, he seemed pretty clueless about the subject. I was quite shocked when he turned out to be the genuine article. But it seems he still holds a grudge about what happened as he remembers it—which is wildly different from what happened as I remember it." He explained to her in detail what had happened, in the Hebrides and in the interview.
"He doesn't sound all that pleasant," said Melissa. "A bit like Roy-rid Dug-you-id I suppose."
"You could say that," replied Jack with a sigh. Ruairidh Duguid was a thorn in Melissa's side—a bad tempered customer from Finzean in Aberdeenshire who was constantly complaining that a bank whose motto was "Run by Scotland, for Scotland, in Scotland" had no business having a call centre in Basingstoke. Especially not one that employed people like Melissa who kept mispronouncing his name and his address with a stubbornly English accent.
"Horace Tripalong and Ruairidh Duguid," he said. "God help us."
They headed up the M6 and the M74 into Scotland, Melissa at the wheel, Jack asleep in the front passenger seat, Kiki in her cage in the back seat singing along to the Dire Straits album that was playing in the car stereo. The sun was still just above the horizon when they arrived at Philip and Lucy-Ann's cottage.
It was a small but cosy house, on the side of a hill a couple of miles north of Glenrothes. Jack thought that it reminded him of Spring Cottage in the Highlands, where he, Lucy-Ann, Philip and Dinah had stayed all those years ago when he had spent a few days photographing eagles in a nearby castle as a teenager, and the four of them had stumbled on a gang who had been spying on a nearby military base in the process.
He was met at the door by his sister Lucy-Ann with a baby in her arms.
"Jack! Melissa! Kiki!" she said. "Welcome to Bonnie Scotland. And say hello to your niece, Kirsty."
Jack and Melissa spent a couple of minutes admiring the baby. At six months old it was clear that she had inherited her mother's rich red hair with her father's characteristic tuft at the front. Jack thought that the combination of the two made her look a bit like Tintin.
They made their way into the living room where Philip was sitting in an armchair, a mug of hot chocolate in his hand. A black Labrador lay snoozing in front of the fireplace.
"Hi Freckles," said Philip.
"Hi Tufty," replied Jack. "Congratulations on becoming a dad."
"I hear you've got one on the way too," said Philip. "Brace yourself for plenty of sleepless nights. When's it due?"
"I got a lot of practice for that at Cambridge," replied Jack, remembering the all-nighters he had pulled as a student. "And don't get me started on jet lag. The baby's due in January. We've decided we're going to call it Samuel Romeo if it's a boy, or Samantha Juliet if it's a girl. Sam either way, with a Shakespearean twist."
They chatted about babies while Lucy-Ann put the kettle on and served them up hot chocolate and Tunnock's tea cakes. Having done so, she sat down.
"So, Jack, how did it go then?" she asked, taking a sip of hot chocolate.
"You don't want to know," sighed Jack.
"I take it that it didn't go well then?"
"You'll never believe who interviewed me."
"Not Dr Johns then, I take it?" asked Philip.
"Not Dr Johns. He had a stroke last night, so his second in command had to step in and do the interview for him."
"That's a shame. We'll have to send him a get well soon card. So who was it then?"
"Do you remember that adventure we had in the Outer Hebrides when we'd all been down with the measles and uncle Bill was on the run from a gang of arms traffickers?" said Jack.
"Oh yes," said Lucy-Ann. "The Sea of Adventure. Not one of the gun runners, surely?"
"No. Do you remember that dippy fellow who turned up on Puffin Island when we were stranded there claiming to be an ornithologist?"
"Oh yes," she replied. "I remember now. We didn't believe him, thinking he was one of the gang, so we…or rather, you…pushed him into a puffin hole then we all made off with his boat to go and rescue uncle Bill."
"Yes," said Philip. "And when we got there, you and I found that he was being kept prisoner along with him, so we let the two of them out, but then the bloke started making a tremendous noise and very nearly sabotaged the entire mission as a result. What was his name again?"
"Horace Tipperlong," replied Jack.
Lucy-Ann gave a giggle. "Oh yes, Horace Tripalong," she said. "He was a bit of a numpty, wasn't he? And not a very pleasant one either."
"Was it one of his relatives who interviewed you or something?" asked Philip.
"No," said Jack. "It was the man himself."
Lucy-Ann put her hand over her mouth in shock. "Did he remember you?" she asked.
"Unfortunately yes," said Jack. "I tried to avoid the subject as much as possible, but I think he suspected fairly early on. He started asking a whole lot of probing questions, and then as soon as he figured out who I was, he launched into a tirade about his version of events, then rejected me on the spot."
"Golly, that's a bit of a rum deal," said Philip. "What did he have to say about it all?"
"Let's just say that his version of the story bore little or no resemblance to reality," replied Jack. "He said that we ambushed him from behind and hog-tied him before he could say a word. Then on the boat, he claimed that when we let uncle Bill out, we pushed him back down into the cabin and locked the hatch on him again. I tried to put him straight on that and tell him that his memory of what happened was a bit wonky, but he just ended up taking that as an insult and told me to get out before he called security to escort me off the premises."
"What a horrible man," said Lucy-Ann. "Still, look on the bright side of things. At least you won't have to put up with him every day for the next three years. Just think of it this way. You've dodged a bullet."
"It's still a bit below the belt," said Jack quietly. "We were both looking forward to it. Now that I've got a baby on the way I need to put a stop to these weeks-long international jobs. I want to be around for Sam's birth, first steps, first words, and so on. As it stands I'm going to have to take that commission in Thailand, Malaysia and Indonesia at the end of the year and miss one of the biggest days of my life. Besides, he's working on de-extinction of the Great Auk. I would kill to get onto a PhD programme researching that."
"You and your Great Auk," replied Philip. "Some things never change. Get yourself a good night's sleep, mate. I've got a day in St Andrews arranged for you tomorrow. I'm sure that will cheer you up."