Rocky Island by Jim Newell Page A

helicopter. These views, Toby was told, would be mixed in with the interviews; a voice-over would be dubbed in later after the script was finished.
    Both the producer and the on-air personality, whose name was Jonathan, made it quite clear that Toby was their main target for interviews and that Allison was to be a background figure, the housewife who played a minor role. Toby caught on to that idea pretty quickly and made sure that Allison was included in as much as possible of the interviewing. One place where she was not included was the time spent in and around the lighthouse.
    The producer, a man in his fifties and physically out of shape, puffed his way up five flights of stairs to the top of the lighthouse. “Make sure the script reflects the distance this man has to climb twice a day to turn the light off and on,” he told the scriptwriter. “That’s important.”
    “It’s not difficult if you keep in shape,” Toby put in a bit of a dig. “I also walk around the island every morning to check out anything that may have happened over night.”
    “How far is that?” puffed the producer.
    “Oh, maybe five miles and a bit.”
    “Be sure to get him to say that on camera, Jonathan.” The on-air personality ignored him, continuing to gaze out over the ocean. “You hear what I said?”
    “I’m not stupid,” muttered the on-air personality without turning around.
    The producer glared at him, then turned to Toby and shrugged his shoulders. “Prima donna,” his gesture indicated.
    “I suppose you’ll want to see the places where I found the wrecked fishing boat and the fisherman’s body,” Toby told him. “They’re maybe three miles or so around to the north-east.”
    “You got an ATV we can use to ride out there on?”
    “Nope. It’s only a short walk.”
    The producer groaned.
    Finally the interviewing on camera began. In short takes, with remarkably few retakes, Toby explained the workings of the light, the fog horn—which he turned from automatic to manual—and translated the Morse code flashes of the red light on top of the revolving signal light. He explained the jobs he did every morning and evening and the weekly servicing he carried out on the equipment.
    Then they had a close-up look at the workings of the windmill, but only a brief stop at the diesel generator. When they got to the shed where the Zodiac was kept, Toby insisted that Allison be brought into the discussion concerning the crash of the helicopter and subsequent rescue. The on-air personality wanted to make Toby the central figure, but he was having none of that. He made sure that Allison told her story and that of Ed Harrison and Luke Hepburn.
    “I think you ought to make a stop at Yarmouth and interview those two guys,” Toby said to the producer. “Each of them helped save lives.”
    When they got to the house, Allison was in her element and Toby stayed completely in the background. Allison made much of how ordinary were the household tasks she managed despite the on-air personality’s insistence that life on an isolated island must make things difficult for her. She showed him her up-to-date appliances and told him how she ordered supplies from Yarmouth and talked about her small summertime vegetable and flower gardens. She showed him a couple of her paintings without mentioning the prices and the rising market. Her bright personality carried the day and caused the smile from the interviewer to seem almost genuine.
    The producer groaned almost every step of the way on the walk along the shore path, although the camera and sound men with their heavy equipment didn’t utter any complaints. The on-air personality found that his clothes, fashionable as they might be, failed to keep him as warm as did the jeans, heavy sweaters and parkas worn by the production crew, and he shivered mightily except when on camera. Toby pointed out the spots they wanted to see and told about the events he had seen and where he had seem them,