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fredbassettTitle : Whispering Island, Part 3 of 8
Author : fredbassett
Fandoms : Primeval & Enid Blyton’s Famous Five books
Rating : 15
Characters : Stephen/Ryan, the Kirrin family and dog
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Word Count : 17,620. This part 1,898.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Stephen and Ryan get the chance to spend a weekend on a private island off the south coast.
A/N : 1) For full author’s note see Part 1 2) Links to previous parts Part 1 Part 2
A check on their belongings left at the campsite demonstrated that nothing had been disturbed, although it was clear from the prints on the ground that at least two people and the dog had passed that way recently. It wasn’t difficult for Stephen to follow the trail they’d left behind.
It soon became obvious that the visitors were making their way across the island to the castle. The trail passed to the east of their clearing, winding its way up the steep slope to the main entrance to the castle. Ryan heard the sound of voices in the courtyard: a woman and a man. He looked at Stephen and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Stephen shrugged and took a step towards the stone lions flanking the gateway.
A sudden volley of barks made both men take a step backwards and for the second time since they arrived on the island, Ryan felt naked without a weapon, even though he wasn’t normally nervous around dogs, but this one sounded large and determined.
“It’s the dog from the beach,” Stephen said, standing stock still. “Easy, boy, we’re no threat.”
“Timmy!”
At the sound of his name, the dog stopped barking and stared at them, his previously friendly, brown eyes now wary.
A man about ten years older than Ryan, good-looking, with a shock of curly dark hair, stepped up behind the dog and stared at them appraisingly out of eyes as sharp and brown as the dog’s. He was dressed in a pair of scruffy jeans with a rip in one knee, a baggy teeshirt that even Ryan would have consigned to the dustbin a long time ago, and a pair of walking boots. At a click of his fingers, the dog went to his side and sat down.
“We met your dog on the beach,” Stephen remarked. “Do you come here often?”
“It’s none of your business,” the man said, his voice as much a growl as the one the dog was quietly emitting.
“Don’t be so tetchy, George,” an amused voice admonished.
A woman stepped out from the shadow of the gateway. Short blonde hair cut in a page-boy bob framed a pretty, heart-shaped face. Her skin was smooth and pale, unlike her companion’s deep tan, and she was neatly dressed in a pair of grey trousers and a pale pink shirt.
“You must be Wilfrid’s friends, Ryan and Stephen,” she said, stepping up to them and holding out one slim, well-manicured hand. “I’m Anne, this is my cousin, George. I’m sorry that we’ve burst in on your weekend away like this. Coming over here was rather a spur of the moment decision and you’d already left the harbour before Wilf could get through to you on the phone. We were meant to have been going to a friend’s birthday party in Bournemouth, but her and her husband have both gone down with flu, so we had to have a last minute change of plan.” She smiled and took the hand Ryan held out to her in a firm grip. “The island’s big enough for all of us. I promise we won’t get in your way.”
Her easy, confident greeting and use of their names allayed Ryan’s concerns. He was naturally suspicious by nature, but the woman didn’t look like the sort of person who spent time trespassing, even though Ryan knew looks could be deceiving.
“I’m just boiling a kettle. Would you like to join us for some coffee? Then we’ll leave you in peace for the rest of the weekend.”
“That would be nice,” Stephen said, proffering his hand to Anne. “The coffee, I mean. I’m Stephen, this is Ryan. We’ve pitched our tent in the clearing near the statues. I hope we haven’t stolen your favourite spot.”
“We normally stay up here, near the well,” Anne said. “It makes it easier to keep Timmy supplied with water.” She turned and made her way back into the courtyard.
The taciturn George gave a click of his tongue and the dog’s manner instantly changed. His tail started wagging and he bounded up to Stephen, as friendly and exuberant as he’d been on the beach.
As Anne busied herself with the small fire that was already starting to crackle underneath a battered old kettle, two other men came into the courtyard, looking as unsurprised to see them as Anne had been.
“My brothers, Julian and Dick,” Anne said.
The elder of the two was tall, his blond hair greying slightly at the temples. He was a seemed few years older than his sister, but the resemblance between the two was unmistakeable. The other brother, perhaps the same age as his surly cousin, was darker and stocky, with a close-cropped beard, also starting to turn grey. His face was tanned, with pale laughter lines at the corners of his eyes and his grip was firm and confident. Both his bearing and the deceptively casual gaze that had given them both a very professional once-over screamed ex-military at Ryan.
“If there’s going to be a pissing contest, I’d appreciate it if you’d all use the outer wall,” Anne said as she took some mugs out of a large rucksack.
Dick’s bark of laughter pricked the slight tension in the air. Handshakes were exchanged and afterwards Ryan, Stephen and Julian perched on a few fallen blocks of masonry and watched while George and Dick erected two tents in the shadow of one of the walls.
“Is this your first time on the island?” Julian asked.
“Yes,” Ryan said. “Wilf’s been saying for ages that we should come down here but things have never quite worked out until now.”
Dick trod a tent peg into the ground and remarked, “You served with him.” It was a statement not a question.
Ryan nodded. He’d served with Wilf for two years before a roadside bomb in Helmand Province had cost his friend a large chunk of his right thigh, and from the look in the other man’s steel grey eyes, Dick already knew that. It had taken Wilf Layman two years to regain his fitness for a range of outdoor activities, and whilst the ex-sergeant might be able to run rings around most of his clients, he’d lost the endurance that the Regiment demanded of its men.
They made small talk as Anne passed around the coffee and a packet of chocolate biscuits. By the time they’d finished their drinks, they’d learnt that Anne was a tax lawyer in London, Julian did ‘something boring in the City’, Dick ran a security consultancy and George – like Wilf – ran an outdoor pursuits centre. Apparently they’d known Wilf since childhood and had often visited the island together.
Dick told an amusing tale of one of their adventures as kids, expanding on the story that Ryan had heard from his friend of their run in with art smugglers using the island to store stolen goods. Ryan politely declined Dick’s offer to show them the secret tunnel that ran from the well to the aptly-named Wailing Cliffs, as little way further around the shoreline from where they’d left their boat. Exploring old tunnels wasn’t his idea of fun, although Stephen looked interested.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Ryan said, standing up.
“Would you like to pool resources for an evening meal?” Anne asked. “I think we’ve brought enough food to feed a small army, but then I always think that…”
“…food tastes nicer when it’s eaten outdoors!” chorused the other three, in what was obviously a well-worn refrain.
“We don’t want to impose,” Stephen said.
Anne smiled. “You wouldn’t be. We have all day to do our own thing and you really would be welcome to join us later.”
Ryan’s curiosity had been thoroughly aroused by the group and he knew Stephen felt the same. “We have a very large ginger cake, if that helps.”
Even the truculent George brightened up at the mention of ginger cake, so, with that settled, Ryan and Stephen took their leave of the group, patted Timmy on the head and continued their exploration of the island.
“Do you believe for a second that Julian just does something ‘boring in the city’?” Stephen asked, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers.
“No. He reminded me far too much of Lester for that to be likely. What do you think of Dick?”
Stephen shot him a mischievous grin. “I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating toast.”
Ryan slapped his lover lightly on the arse. “Neither would I, but that’s not what I meant. There’s something about him that’s familiar, but I can’t pin down where I know him from. His voice seems familiar, but I can’t place his face.”
They strolled back to their camp, deposited the water container that they’d filled from the well and then set about exploring the rest of the island. The Wailing Cliffs and their strange siren call were easily identified. Ryan couldn’t tell what was making the noise, although airflow through the various blowholes that connected the cliff tops with the sea below seemed a likely candidate. They worked their way around the shoreline, clambering up and down rocks, until they finally made their way to a secluded beach on the seaward side of the island. Gulls wheeled above them, their harsh cries filling the air. With only sea birds for company, a swim seemed in order, as the chances of them being overlooked from the cliffs above seemed unlikely.
Ryan stripped off quickly, leaving his clothes on a rock out of reach of the incoming tide. The water in the cove was calm, cradled between two protruding arms of the cliffs, but beyond the encircling rocks, Ryan could see white tops to the waves where they crested a submerged reef Wilf had warned them about, They would be safe within the small bay, but venturing out any further would be dangerous.
The water was cold, but not unpleasantly so. Ryan launched himself into an over-arm crawl, with Stephen close behind him. Gulls bobbing on the water in front of them took off, squawking in irritation.
They swam for a while and then lazed on the edge of the beach skimming stones for a while, before moving over to sunbathe on a large, flat rock. Eventually, Stephen got up and wandered off naked across the sand. Ryan rolled over onto his stomach and watched as his lover made his way across the beach towards the point where a small stream tumbled over the cliffs above and snaked down to the sea amidst jumbled piles of boulders. Stephen clambered up on the dark rocks and let the water splash over his body, washing off the salt from the sea and rinsing his hair. Ryan followed him and did the same, enjoying the feel of the cool sparkling water on skin warmed by the sun.
Stephen jumped down off the rocks onto the sand. He went down on one knee and started examining something, an intent look on his face.
Ryan knew that look all too well. He started to pick his way carefully over the wet rocks.
He wanted to know why his lover was now wearing his professional face.
Author : fredbassett
Fandoms : Primeval & Enid Blyton’s Famous Five books
Rating : 15
Characters : Stephen/Ryan, the Kirrin family and dog
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Word Count : 17,620. This part 1,898.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Stephen and Ryan get the chance to spend a weekend on a private island off the south coast.
A/N : 1) For full author’s note see Part 1 2) Links to previous parts Part 1 Part 2
A check on their belongings left at the campsite demonstrated that nothing had been disturbed, although it was clear from the prints on the ground that at least two people and the dog had passed that way recently. It wasn’t difficult for Stephen to follow the trail they’d left behind.
It soon became obvious that the visitors were making their way across the island to the castle. The trail passed to the east of their clearing, winding its way up the steep slope to the main entrance to the castle. Ryan heard the sound of voices in the courtyard: a woman and a man. He looked at Stephen and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Stephen shrugged and took a step towards the stone lions flanking the gateway.
A sudden volley of barks made both men take a step backwards and for the second time since they arrived on the island, Ryan felt naked without a weapon, even though he wasn’t normally nervous around dogs, but this one sounded large and determined.
“It’s the dog from the beach,” Stephen said, standing stock still. “Easy, boy, we’re no threat.”
“Timmy!”
At the sound of his name, the dog stopped barking and stared at them, his previously friendly, brown eyes now wary.
A man about ten years older than Ryan, good-looking, with a shock of curly dark hair, stepped up behind the dog and stared at them appraisingly out of eyes as sharp and brown as the dog’s. He was dressed in a pair of scruffy jeans with a rip in one knee, a baggy teeshirt that even Ryan would have consigned to the dustbin a long time ago, and a pair of walking boots. At a click of his fingers, the dog went to his side and sat down.
“We met your dog on the beach,” Stephen remarked. “Do you come here often?”
“It’s none of your business,” the man said, his voice as much a growl as the one the dog was quietly emitting.
“Don’t be so tetchy, George,” an amused voice admonished.
A woman stepped out from the shadow of the gateway. Short blonde hair cut in a page-boy bob framed a pretty, heart-shaped face. Her skin was smooth and pale, unlike her companion’s deep tan, and she was neatly dressed in a pair of grey trousers and a pale pink shirt.
“You must be Wilfrid’s friends, Ryan and Stephen,” she said, stepping up to them and holding out one slim, well-manicured hand. “I’m Anne, this is my cousin, George. I’m sorry that we’ve burst in on your weekend away like this. Coming over here was rather a spur of the moment decision and you’d already left the harbour before Wilf could get through to you on the phone. We were meant to have been going to a friend’s birthday party in Bournemouth, but her and her husband have both gone down with flu, so we had to have a last minute change of plan.” She smiled and took the hand Ryan held out to her in a firm grip. “The island’s big enough for all of us. I promise we won’t get in your way.”
Her easy, confident greeting and use of their names allayed Ryan’s concerns. He was naturally suspicious by nature, but the woman didn’t look like the sort of person who spent time trespassing, even though Ryan knew looks could be deceiving.
“I’m just boiling a kettle. Would you like to join us for some coffee? Then we’ll leave you in peace for the rest of the weekend.”
“That would be nice,” Stephen said, proffering his hand to Anne. “The coffee, I mean. I’m Stephen, this is Ryan. We’ve pitched our tent in the clearing near the statues. I hope we haven’t stolen your favourite spot.”
“We normally stay up here, near the well,” Anne said. “It makes it easier to keep Timmy supplied with water.” She turned and made her way back into the courtyard.
The taciturn George gave a click of his tongue and the dog’s manner instantly changed. His tail started wagging and he bounded up to Stephen, as friendly and exuberant as he’d been on the beach.
As Anne busied herself with the small fire that was already starting to crackle underneath a battered old kettle, two other men came into the courtyard, looking as unsurprised to see them as Anne had been.
“My brothers, Julian and Dick,” Anne said.
The elder of the two was tall, his blond hair greying slightly at the temples. He was a seemed few years older than his sister, but the resemblance between the two was unmistakeable. The other brother, perhaps the same age as his surly cousin, was darker and stocky, with a close-cropped beard, also starting to turn grey. His face was tanned, with pale laughter lines at the corners of his eyes and his grip was firm and confident. Both his bearing and the deceptively casual gaze that had given them both a very professional once-over screamed ex-military at Ryan.
“If there’s going to be a pissing contest, I’d appreciate it if you’d all use the outer wall,” Anne said as she took some mugs out of a large rucksack.
Dick’s bark of laughter pricked the slight tension in the air. Handshakes were exchanged and afterwards Ryan, Stephen and Julian perched on a few fallen blocks of masonry and watched while George and Dick erected two tents in the shadow of one of the walls.
“Is this your first time on the island?” Julian asked.
“Yes,” Ryan said. “Wilf’s been saying for ages that we should come down here but things have never quite worked out until now.”
Dick trod a tent peg into the ground and remarked, “You served with him.” It was a statement not a question.
Ryan nodded. He’d served with Wilf for two years before a roadside bomb in Helmand Province had cost his friend a large chunk of his right thigh, and from the look in the other man’s steel grey eyes, Dick already knew that. It had taken Wilf Layman two years to regain his fitness for a range of outdoor activities, and whilst the ex-sergeant might be able to run rings around most of his clients, he’d lost the endurance that the Regiment demanded of its men.
They made small talk as Anne passed around the coffee and a packet of chocolate biscuits. By the time they’d finished their drinks, they’d learnt that Anne was a tax lawyer in London, Julian did ‘something boring in the City’, Dick ran a security consultancy and George – like Wilf – ran an outdoor pursuits centre. Apparently they’d known Wilf since childhood and had often visited the island together.
Dick told an amusing tale of one of their adventures as kids, expanding on the story that Ryan had heard from his friend of their run in with art smugglers using the island to store stolen goods. Ryan politely declined Dick’s offer to show them the secret tunnel that ran from the well to the aptly-named Wailing Cliffs, as little way further around the shoreline from where they’d left their boat. Exploring old tunnels wasn’t his idea of fun, although Stephen looked interested.
“Thanks for the coffee,” Ryan said, standing up.
“Would you like to pool resources for an evening meal?” Anne asked. “I think we’ve brought enough food to feed a small army, but then I always think that…”
“…food tastes nicer when it’s eaten outdoors!” chorused the other three, in what was obviously a well-worn refrain.
“We don’t want to impose,” Stephen said.
Anne smiled. “You wouldn’t be. We have all day to do our own thing and you really would be welcome to join us later.”
Ryan’s curiosity had been thoroughly aroused by the group and he knew Stephen felt the same. “We have a very large ginger cake, if that helps.”
Even the truculent George brightened up at the mention of ginger cake, so, with that settled, Ryan and Stephen took their leave of the group, patted Timmy on the head and continued their exploration of the island.
“Do you believe for a second that Julian just does something ‘boring in the city’?” Stephen asked, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers.
“No. He reminded me far too much of Lester for that to be likely. What do you think of Dick?”
Stephen shot him a mischievous grin. “I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating toast.”
Ryan slapped his lover lightly on the arse. “Neither would I, but that’s not what I meant. There’s something about him that’s familiar, but I can’t pin down where I know him from. His voice seems familiar, but I can’t place his face.”
They strolled back to their camp, deposited the water container that they’d filled from the well and then set about exploring the rest of the island. The Wailing Cliffs and their strange siren call were easily identified. Ryan couldn’t tell what was making the noise, although airflow through the various blowholes that connected the cliff tops with the sea below seemed a likely candidate. They worked their way around the shoreline, clambering up and down rocks, until they finally made their way to a secluded beach on the seaward side of the island. Gulls wheeled above them, their harsh cries filling the air. With only sea birds for company, a swim seemed in order, as the chances of them being overlooked from the cliffs above seemed unlikely.
Ryan stripped off quickly, leaving his clothes on a rock out of reach of the incoming tide. The water in the cove was calm, cradled between two protruding arms of the cliffs, but beyond the encircling rocks, Ryan could see white tops to the waves where they crested a submerged reef Wilf had warned them about, They would be safe within the small bay, but venturing out any further would be dangerous.
The water was cold, but not unpleasantly so. Ryan launched himself into an over-arm crawl, with Stephen close behind him. Gulls bobbing on the water in front of them took off, squawking in irritation.
They swam for a while and then lazed on the edge of the beach skimming stones for a while, before moving over to sunbathe on a large, flat rock. Eventually, Stephen got up and wandered off naked across the sand. Ryan rolled over onto his stomach and watched as his lover made his way across the beach towards the point where a small stream tumbled over the cliffs above and snaked down to the sea amidst jumbled piles of boulders. Stephen clambered up on the dark rocks and let the water splash over his body, washing off the salt from the sea and rinsing his hair. Ryan followed him and did the same, enjoying the feel of the cool sparkling water on skin warmed by the sun.
Stephen jumped down off the rocks onto the sand. He went down on one knee and started examining something, an intent look on his face.
Ryan knew that look all too well. He started to pick his way carefully over the wet rocks.
He wanted to know why his lover was now wearing his professional face.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 03:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 05:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 03:57 pm (UTC)Brilliant intro to Julian et al - and what they're doing now is totally plausible. I wonder when Ryan and Stephen will find out the truth about George!
And ooh err for the cliffhanger!
no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 05:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2012-10-20 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 05:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 04:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 05:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 04:04 pm (UTC)Love the swimming and what has Stephen found now? Too much to ask for a quiet holiday ;) *purrs*
no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 05:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 04:42 pm (UTC)But why the professional face, Stephen?
no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 05:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 10:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 10:49 pm (UTC)*eyes Stephen warily*
I suspect company of a prehistoric (or possibly futuristic) kind.
no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 10:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 11:05 pm (UTC)Anne still sounds very domestic - and I love her comment about the pissing contest. Where are the lashings of ginger beer? ;)
I look forward to finding out about the sekrit jobs and about George. And about what Stephen has found...
no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 11:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-20 11:34 pm (UTC)Coupled with lovely images like this: Stephen clambered up on the dark rocks and let the water splash over his body, washing off the salt from the sea and rinsing his hair. Ryan followed him and did the same, enjoying the feel of the cool sparkling water on skin warmed by the sun.
no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 11:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 12:24 am (UTC)We need the lashings of ginger beer! *g*
I like the way there's a mini cliffhanger at the end of each chapter too.
no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 11:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2012-10-21 12:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 11:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 03:53 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-10-21 06:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 11:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 08:16 am (UTC)And what has Stephen found?
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Date: 2012-10-21 08:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2012-10-21 11:21 am (UTC)Cannot wait for more!
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Date: 2012-10-21 11:27 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2012-10-21 11:23 am (UTC)That's another great cliffie, too, with added wet nakedness, NOM!
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Date: 2012-10-21 11:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2012-10-21 02:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 02:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 06:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 10:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 10:08 pm (UTC)"Julian did ‘something boring in the City’"
Yeah, sure.
I wonder what has Stephen found...
no subject
Date: 2012-10-21 10:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-22 09:47 am (UTC)*bounces up and down, chewing nails and waiting for the next instalment*
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Date: 2012-10-22 09:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-22 05:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-22 05:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-22 06:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-22 06:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-23 07:29 pm (UTC)There’s something about him that’s familiar, but I can’t pin down where I know him from. His voice seems familiar, but I can’t place his face
I like!
And, onward to the mystery! *g*
This is fun!
no subject
Date: 2012-10-23 10:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-10-24 10:32 pm (UTC)