‘She’s got a point,’ said Tom solemnly. ‘Damn confusing to pop off at a six-legged rabbit when it isn’t a rabbit, if you see what I mean.’
‘You’re drunk,’ said Mary primly.
Tom laughed. ‘The Leith police dismisseth us.’ He delivered himself of the tongue-twister safely, and with as much satisfaction as a scientist propounding a new and revolutionary theory.
‘Simple. It’s a rabbitype,’ announced Barbara.
‘What is?’
‘A six-legged rabbit. It’s a rabbitype. There’s also a rhinotype, a crocotype and a doggotype, etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseam.’
Avery smiled. ‘That’s nice and convenient. But how would you describe the Greek god that Mary saw? Incidentally there doesn’t appear to be a picture card to tell us what he does.’
‘Simple,’ said Barbara. ‘He’s either a supertype or a sexotype,’ she giggled, ‘depending upon your sex, how you look at him, and what he does to you.’
‘I hope,’ retorted Avery, ‘that he doesn’t do anything at all—if he exists.’
‘He exists, all right,’ said Mary. She shivered. ‘I wish you hadn’t reminded me of him.’
‘Darling,’ said Tom, ‘Richard and I will protect your virginity, even unto the last drop of whisky…. Christ, I’m tired! It must be the sea air.’
‘The “type” suffix will do quite nicely for the time being,’ decided Avery. ‘And incidentally, a priority task for us all is memorizing those pictures and the information. It may mean the difference between survival or otherwise…. Touching on Tom’s last remark, it may be a good idea if you three went to bed. It’s been a pretty tiring sort of day.’
‘We three?’ said Barbara. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Take the first watch and keep the fire going. I’ll waken you in a couple of hours. Then you can do a spell and waken Tom. Mary can have what I hope will be the dawn watch.’
Tom stretched. ‘Beddibyes is a lovely and almost holy thought—providing it’s a bed with four legs in West One. Somehow, a sleeping bag and a tent don’t fill me with quite the same enthusiasm. However, when on Mars one must do as the dear little Martians do. Good night one and all…. Perhaps—if Barbara will be so kind —I’ll just take a night-cap in with me.’ He gave himself another generous measure of whisky.
‘By the way,’ said Avery, ‘does your trunk contain any personal comforts—such as whisky or cigarettes?’
The question was addressed chiefly to Tom, but Mary answered it first. ‘I have about half a hundredweight of sweets,’ she confessed. ‘I suppose I used to eat quite a lot, but ’ she stopped. Even by firelight her blush was noticeable.
Avery transferred his gaze once more to Tom.
‘Sorry, old man. There’s nothing we can eat, drink or suck in my little box. All comforts, such as they are, are of a highly personal nature One assumes, of course, that civilized standards of privacy will not deteriorate in our little group…. Sweet dreams, everyone.’ He disappeared inside the tent.
Avery was intrigued. There had seemed to be some tension in Tom’s voice. Linking it up with that silly remark about privacy, it looked as if there was something he wanted to hide. But, clearly, in such a situation nothing could be hidden from anyone for long. Presently, they would all be painfully aware of each other’s likes and dislikes, each other’s strengths and weaknesses, each other’s little secrets And, in a way, that would be another kind of nakedness….
Mary was the next to go. A few minutes later she was followed into the tent by Barbara. Each of Avery’s companions was still only two or three yards away, yet he felt suddenly and luxuriously alone.
He shivered a little, with cold and pleasure. Then he threw some more wood on to the fire and settled down to his vigil. Perhaps he ought to leave the camp and take a stroll round to see if there was anything about that was likely to ‘go bump in the night’. But he dismissed the idea. It was now so dark that, away from the firelight, he would be able to see very little; but, at the same time, he would himself be more exposed. Better to stay put and rely on the fire and the fence.
He had been sitting by the fire for about three-quarters of an hour, immersed in his own thoughts and memories, when there was a movement by his side. It was Barbara—wearing a hastily thrown on shirt, a pair of slacks and nothing else.
‘I can’t sleep,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve tried all the regulation positions and it won’t work. Mary seems to have found the trick of it, though. She’s well out.’
‘Maybe you drank too much whisky.’ Avery kept his own voice low.
She smiled. ‘Or not enough Richard, I’m so bloody lonely. Do me a favour, just hold my hand. Nothing else, that’s all I need.’
Avery looked at her for a moment. Then he put one arm round her shoulder and drew her gently against his side. She let out a sigh of relief, and after a minute or two the tightness seemed to drain out of her body.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she said, ‘what a bit of human contact will do—actual physical contact, I mean. I was ready to twang like a harp, and now you are making me feel silly and relaxed.’
‘Not too silly, I hope.’
Barbara gave him a curiously appraising look. ‘No, not too silly It’s early days yet, and we all have to be terribly adult about everything, haven’t we?’
Avery had no answer to that, and she snuggled closer. After a time he found that they were almost clinging together; and that it gave him, too, a sense of security, a feeling of being slowly unwound. What was even more odd—and gratifying—was that the sex aspect didn’t appear to obtrude at all.
‘Why don’t you go back to bed, now?’ he asked at length.
‘No thanks,’ she murmured. ‘This is better than sleeping.’
They sat there for a long time, not talking, hardly thinking, but just watching the fire and listening to the strange and intriguing night noises that were occasionally superimposed on the even sound of the sea.
TEN
The night passed uneventfully. Two moons—one only very slightly larger than the other—drifted slowly like luminous balloons across a star-studded sky; and at last a red sun, curiously like Earth’s sun, lifted above tree-tops already beginning to stream as a light dew evaporated.
Barbara and Avery had shared their watches, but Tom and Mary each took theirs alone. As it turned out, their vigils were rather short because Barbara and Avery did not turn in until less than a couple of hours before dawn. Though their sleep was brief it was remarkably refreshing; and at breakfast time they found it difficult to believe that they had spent most of the night huddled together by the fire. Avery, in fact, was mildly embarrassed by the memory. It seemed to imply the existence of an intimacy that he was not yet willing to accept.
Breakfast itself was a simple affair—the remainder of the fruit. Afterwards, Avery asked Tom to study the plastic pictures and then take himself off on a hunting expedition—without the gun.
Tom was in an unco-operative mood—possibly, thought Avery, as a result of last night’s whisky. But, after delivering himself of a little speech on the entire uselessness of trying to catch ‘game’ with his bare hands, he made his departure. He spent some time looking for suitable throwing stones on the shore. Then he went inland. Avery did not set any limits to the hunt. He merely asked Tom to make sure he didn’t get lost and to be back in about three hours. It was obvious that risks were going to have to be taken sometimes; and, since nothing dreadful had happened so far, Avery began to feel that the dangers might not be so great as he had imagined. He was worried still about the man Mary had seen. But to adopt an entirely defensive attitude seemed neither practical nor wise.