by Kate Tenbeth
“Right!” said Mike. “Listen up you two - I’ll leave you to unpack, you should have everything you need. Burly, the ice cream van is parked behind that large tree over there - just go and help yourself to whatever you want. I’ve put all the food and drink in there because the van is refrigerated and the food will stay fresh but you have to make sure the door is closed. Now, neither of you are used to such hot weather so I suggest you make camp in the shade of the palm trees. Grum, you put sun lotion on your skin to stop you burning up - you do not eat it. Burly you’ve got a heavy fur coat so it’s probably best you stay in the shade. If either of you have any problems - anything at all, shout for me and I’ll come back.”
Burly nodded thoughtfully but Grum barely took in what Mike was saying he was so excited. “Bye Mike, now come on Burly, let’s take the stuff out of the bags!”
Burly raised his eyebrows. “Just wait a moment. Mike thank you, this is a wonderful birthday present, it’s so calm and peaceful here and I’m sure we’ll have a good time.”
Mike smiled, waved his hand, shimmered and then vanished.
“C’mon,” Grum tugged at Burly’s fur.
Burly lifted his snout, breathed in the warm sea air and smiled contentedly, he was feeling chilled already. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s make ourselves a camp by the truck.” Grum ran excitedly ahead with Burly following more sedately behind, both of them feeling that they were going to have a great day ahead of them.
On one side of the little cove was a headland covered with shrubs and palm trees which reached out like a finger into the sea. On the other side of the headland was another, slightly larger, cove. The top part of the beach had the same fine white sand but along the shore line itself there were definitely more pebbles and shingle that made walking uncomfortable.
A groblin by the name of Gruel was pulling a rowing boat over the pebbles onto the beach. He was much larger than most of his kind, with shoulders that were as broad as he was tall and arms that were thick and knotted with muscles. His green face was weathered and cruel, marked by scars and one of his ears had been lost in a fight, giving him a lopsided look. Despite his great strength he was finding it hard to pull the rowing boat over the shingle onto the sand and this made him angry.
“Darn it!” he kicked the side of the boat and then rested for a moment. “Not so young as I used to be for sure,” he muttered to himself. He shook an angry fist at the boat before making one final effort and hauling it far enough up the beach so the tide would not pull it back into the sea. He wiped his brow and jumped in, pulling back a dirty sack to reveal a large wooden box, which he lifted up and held close to his chest.
Inside the box was a fortune in gold coins. Gruel had stolen the gold coins not once, but twice. The first time he and his gang, The Toolkit Gang, had stolen them from a bank. The Toolkits had four members - Gruel, who was the leader and the only groblin, Anvil, big, solid, nasty Anvil, who could smash down any door; Crowbar, a thin, sneaky and greasy man who could break into anything and, last but not least, Nails. Nails was thin with a mass of dyed blond hair that she held in place with several cans of hairspray each day. Her cold blue eyes were sharp with intelligence and cunning and as hard as her glossy nail varnish. No one ever crossed Nails.
The Toolkits had planned the robbery for months and each member of the gang had trained hard and knew what they had to do to make sure nothing went wrong. They had broken into the bank at the dead of night and stolen the gold coins without any problem at all. Once they were sure they hadn’t been followed they went back to their base, whooped and yelled with excitement and had a big party to celebrate.
It was while they were sleeping after the party that Gruel stole the gold coins for the second time. He wanted the gold all to himself and had been planning this all along. He disappeared into the night and went on the run.
Both the police and The Toolkit Gang were now trying to find him. In many ways he was more worried about The Toolkits finding him, he’d double crossed them and they were a mean and nasty bunch, and he’d almost forgotten about the police until a few days ago when a large detective caught up with him. He had managed to escape by the skin of his teeth but the incident both surprised and frightened him, up until then he thought he’d covered his tracks so well that no one could find him. He decided it was best to hide the gold and then to lie low for a few months, which was why he was on the island - he was going to hide the gold the old fashioned way - by burying it.
Gruel was now very nervous and he looked up and around furtively. All was quiet, only the gentle swoosh of the waves crashing on the beach broke the silence. He clambered out of the boat taking the box with him and made his way up the beach, disappearing into the line of trees.
On the headland that separated the coves, two people stood together watching his movements, a tall man with broad shoulders and a young girl. Despite the tropical heat the man wore a long, black leather coat and leather boots. He watched Gruel’s movements carefully through high powered binoculars.
The girl was small and slight with clouds of soft black hair, and wore pink shorts and a t-shirt. She had sparkling brown eyes and a determined nature. “Has he got the gold dad?” she asked, reaching up to grab the binoculars.
“Oh yes, he’s got it all right,” he replied. “We’d better get going Tara, or he’ll hide it and then we’ll never find it. Come on!” He tucked the binoculars into an inside pocket of his coat and walked purposefully down the hill in the direction of Gruel the groblin with Tara just a hop and a step behind him.
