by L K Harcourt
With the oars firmly in place in the rowlocks, Louise channelled her energy into powering them through the water. With swift, strong strokes, she quickly brought the boat towards the cliffs and through a narrow ravine, just wide enough to take them. It appeared to lead into the rock face itself and then opened into a large cavern.
A rusting iron ring was embedded into the rock and Louise gently brought the boat alongside and tied it up. She stepped out onto the floor of the cavern and beckoned the others to follow. She took a torch from her rucksack and flicked it on. The others all gasped in astonishment at the size and beauty of this enormous underground chamber.
‘Wow,’ said Emma, her voice echoing. Isn’t this amazing! Oh what a perfect place for smugglers, don’t you think, Louise?’
‘It was perfect for them,’ she replied. ‘This was one of their notorious haunts around these parts. As you can see, apart from the sea water coming in along the ravine, it is perfectly dry and goes back a long way. And look, can you see the way those great big stones have been mortared into the walls?’ The others followed the beam of her torch.
‘Well behind them lie secret passageways used by the smugglers. Some of the tunnels were hewn from the rocks but most were natural, and they lead deep into the cliff-face and into remote underground caves where stuff could be hidden.’
‘So why were they blocked up?’ asked Dan, squinting through his Harry Potter glasses at the rock face.
‘In the past, it was to try to put an end to the smugglers’ and wreckers’ activities. And others were closed off more recently, for health and safety reasons I would guess,’ said Louise.
‘That’s a shame, I would have loved to go exploring down a smugglers’ passageway,’ said John, pressing his hands against the walls as if the stones just might be possible to dislodge.
‘Yes, it would be great fun,’ agreed Louise, ‘but you have to remember that any ill-gotten gains stashed away down here would have been carted off long ago. Even the really well-hidden spots have been discovered. You’ve got to remember that the smuggling and wrecking trade was at its peak in the 18th century, so there was plenty of time since to uncover anything that remained.’
‘Would there really have been smugglers right here, where we’re standing?,’ asked Emma.
‘Oh yes, they were active right along this coast,’ replied Louise. ‘Some places, like Perranporth on the north coast of Cornwall had a smuggling syndicate – even the local clergy were involved. And then there were the famous old smuggling inns where they would plot their next moves.’
‘It does sound like the stuff of books, rather than real life,’ said Emma as she walked around the cavern.
‘I suppose,’ said Dan thoughtfully, ‘it’s easy for us to romanticise their exploits now, especially when there was treasure of different kinds involved but at the time it was a serious criminal activity. We shouldn’t make these people out to be any kind of heroes. They were wicked.’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ retorted John, cheerily. ‘It’s hard to see it as wicked now when it all happened a couple of centuries ago. To me, it seems more historic and, I don’t know, fascinating, than anything else. Just think what it must have been like to be a fly on the wall 200 years ago and see the wreckers and smugglers hauling their cargo into great caverns like this and down those old tunnels far into the hillside. Wooden trunks, brimming with bullion and gold and silver coins!’
With his wide grin, straw mop of hair and eyes gleaming strangely in the torchlight, John looked rather like an old-time smuggler himself.
‘Ooh you don’t half talk nonsense, John,’ giggled Louise. ‘Well look, if we’re done treasure hunting here, perhaps we ought to be heading back to the lighthouse and get this food we’ve bought in the fridge.’
As Louise skilfully navigated her way back through the ravine and out into the bright sunlight of the bay, the four found themselves imagining the comings and goings of centuries past. Dan was right, these people weren’t heroes but as baddies go, they were a colourful lot.
‘Do you know what I wish,’ said John, ‘as they approached Wreckers Island. ‘I wish we could find a way into those blocked-up tunnels and follow them deep into the hillside, into caves where no human foot has trodden for 100 years and more. And possibly, just possibly find one single overlooked gold coin or something.’
‘Not a hope!,’ hooted Louise. ‘But you’re a romantic John, and I like that,’ she said, giving his shoulder a rub and flashing a smile at him. John grinned back at her and, just for a moment, his thoughts turned to the pursuit of a different sort of treasure – winning the hand of Louise. He didn’t notice the troubled stare from Emma.
CHAPTER 5
That night, Dan volunteered to cook the evening meal and was alone with his ingredients and his thoughts in the lighthouse kitchen. He was feeling just a little left out so far this holiday, much as he was enjoying it. Dan, with his brooding, slightly nerdy good looks didn’t have the ready charm and gift of the gab like John. Nor did he have Louise’s steely self-confidence and poise.
He was unquestionably a quieter, more reserved individual – a valued member of any social circle but not exactly its life and soul. And that was perhaps in part why he had become so fond of Emma, for he saw in her much of himself.
He had watched her in French classes at university, her fair skin reddening when called upon to speak the language in front of the others. He understood her diffidence and her slightly wobbly, unsure manner, as if she didn’t quite believe in herself. But Dan believed in her, he saw the qualities of intelligence and personality that she possessed. And he also saw a very attractive woman, an impression confirmed by the sight of her in a swimming costume.
He had appreciated the way she seemed self-conscious of her body and not seeking to flaunt it. He had noticed Louise’s arch, faintly exhibitionistic behaviour in her tight-fitting swimwear. But Emma had been modest, hunching her shoulders over her breasts to minimise rather than display them and almost always keeping one hand nervously over her crotch as if she felt somehow naked down there.
Dan warmed to Emma for that. They were alike in many ways. So often at Oxford, he had made up his mind to ask her for a date and yet somehow, the moment never quite came. He would have to seize his chance during this holiday, he told himself, it was the perfect opportunity, especially as John was so obviously seeking to woo Louise.
Yet something troubled him slightly. There seemed to be a strange bond growing between Louise and Emma, as if there was some kind of emotional connection, and Emma had seemed uncharacteristically animated and self-assured earlier that morning. Either way, mused Dan as he chopped up an onion, he felt somewhat apart from the three of them, as if little pathways of friendship and romance were threading their way around them, but excluding him.
‘Ouch,’ he cried, as the onion slipped and the knife plunged into his finger, which quickly welled with blood.
The merriment in the lounge stopped and the other three burst into the kitchen. ‘Are you ok?’ asked Emma. ‘Oh look at your finger, oh you poor thing. Come and bathe it under the tap.’
Emma took Dan’s hand and ran cold water over it, washing away the blood. ‘Let’s get you a plaster. Louise? Where are the plasters, don’t tell me you haven’t got any!’
Unfortunately, Louise hadn’t, so Emma did her best to bandage it with a hanky.
‘Don’t worry, it’s clean!’ she said.
Dan’s face winced with pain as she tied the handkerchief tight against the wound.
‘Right you clumsy thing, I’ll come and help you, let me finish off that onion.’ Emma’s tone was mumsyish and slightly patronising, as if she was helping nurse a child who had grazed his knee. But Dan was grateful to her.
Louise and John, having satisfied themselves that Dan hadn’t severed any major arteries, made use of their visit to the kitchen to grab lagers from the fridge, and then returned to the lounge.
‘You go and join them and relax,’ said Dan, h
alf-heartedly, ‘you cooked the meal last night.’
‘No I’m staying to help you,’ insisted Emma, ‘I think you need looking after tonight, you’ve been really distracted all day. Your mind always seems to be wandering off to a different place – no wonder you chopped your fingers instead of that onion.’
As laughter and giggles rang out from the lounge, Emma and Dan busied themselves making the curry – with the help of jars of madras and tandoori paste.
‘Mmmm, this smells delicious,’ said Emma, ‘I love the aroma of onions and garlic frying. You’re quite a good cook on the quiet, aren’t you Dan? I think you’re a bit of a dark horse anyway to be honest.’
‘Oh please don’t come out with the line that it’s always the quiet ones you’ve got to watch and that one day I’ll end up being a murderer or something,’ said Dan, touchily, as he nursed his finger.
‘Don’t be so insecure Dan, you know I didn’t mean that,’ retorted Emma, her pale blue eyes boring into his. ‘Honestly, you’re like me sometimes, you need to have more confidence in yourself. Oh come here,’ she said and put her arms round him. ‘You’re a silly thing aren’t you?’
Dan reciprocated the gesture, spontaneously putting his arms around her and then a second later, recoiled, worried that wasn’t appropriate.
But Emma smiled as if some invisible barrier had fallen away. ‘Come on, cheer up, let’s open a bottle of wine while the curry is cooking and enjoy it round the kitchen table. Chefs’ privilege!’
At this point, Dan did cheer up and thought how fortuitous it was to have cut his finger – the chance to be alone with Emma that he had been waiting for and over a bottle of wine!
Dan didn’t know it but Emma had an ulterior motive for staying with him – she was listening to the increasingly animated conversation going on in the lounge and she realised, with a chill to her heart, that John was flirting with Louise. And, it would appear, her with him. Yet why would she behave like that after the night they had shared together. Had it been just an outburst of lust on her part, as easily satiated as eating a bag of crisps?
Emma was paying a huge emotional price for her intimacy with Louise. She had had little sexual experience hitherto, with men, let alone women. But now she had crossed that psychological and emotional line with her roommate, she did not want their passion to fizzle out so soon, to be reduced to a mere fling. Not that she ever saw it becoming a relationship, she still wanted a man on her arm and had been brought up to believe in the importance of finding one. But Louise’s behaviour with John made her feel cheap.
‘You’ve gone a bit quiet Emma,’ said Dan, noticing her changed mood.
‘No I’m fine, I’m just curious what those pair are up to in there,’ said Emma, trying to sound reasonably bright. ‘I’m going to go and have a quick peek.’
She nudged open the lounge door and, to her dismay, saw Louise and John sprawled on either end of the sofa – Louise with her legs across John’s. Emma returned to the kitchen, sat down and toyed with her wine glass – the hurt and anger etched in her face was impossible to disguise.
Dan topped up her glass. ‘Come on, he said, ‘I thought you were supposed to be cheering me up.’
‘Oh Dan, am I really such a worthless person?’ Emma sobbed.
‘Of course not and why do you say such things? We really are kindred spirits you and me, we just don’t have any self belief, do we?’ replied Dan.
‘But I did have Dan, at least I was acquiring some, and then . . . oh I can’t possibly explain,’ said Emma.
‘Are we talking about your feelings for someone – feelings which you thought were reciprocated but now your hopes have been dashed, or something like that?’ enquired Dan.
‘Yes, I suppose, something like that,’ said Emma.
Dan winced. It seemed plain enough who Emma was talking about – John of course. And she now realised that John was mad about Louise and that Louise liked him in return.
‘I’m sorry Emma,’ he said, slowly. ‘I’ve known for a while that John held a bit of a candle for Louise. He’s mentioned it a number of times at uni. It’s just he’s never plucked up courage to ask her before now. John’s like that you know, very extrovert in many ways, but with women he still falls at the final hurdle.
‘Oh well,’ ploughed on Dan, as Emma failed to respond. ‘Looks like you and me both have had our hopes dashed, so why don’t we just raise a glass to being a pair of losers!’
He lifted his in a mock toast. Emma stared at him and left hers where it was.
‘What are you talking about Dan?’ she said, brushing her tears away and looking hard at him.
‘Well,’ said Dan, uncertainly, ‘your hopes dashed with John and mine with . . .’ he paused, before adding, ‘it doesn’t matter, some woman.’
‘Funny you’ve never mentioned this before – what’s suddenly made you realise that your hopes are dashed?’ she asked him.
Dan wouldn’t say anything further, but reddened a little and started twiddling the stem of his wine glass nervously.
‘Stop playing with that glass, you’ll spill it,’ scolded Emma. ‘This woman whom you’ve suddenly decided you’ve got no chance with, is it – I’m not trying to be bigheaded or anything – but is it me?’
Dan’s soft grey eyes looked deeply into hers. There was no going back now. ‘Yes,’ he said, simply. ‘Emma, I’ve liked you for ages. I’ve even started going to the college library to be near you because I knew you’d often be in there, and well, one of the reasons I wanted to come on this lighthouse holiday was because I knew you were coming too.’
Emma took his hands into hers and squeezed them hard. ‘You silly thing, if you’d plucked up courage to ask me for a date, I might well have said yes, but you never gave me any clue.’
‘And now I’ve left it too late, I suppose?’ asked Dan.
‘It’s not that, it’s just that I am rather taken with someone else – not John, someone else – and even if that doesn’t work out, my mind is sort of all over the place,’ replied Emma, still holding his hand. ‘But I’m pleased you’ve told me.’
Dan opened his mouth to reply when Louise and John walked into the kitchen. ‘Come on, you pair, how long does it take to cook a curry?’ joked Louise.
And then she saw Emma and Dan clasping each other’s hands and looking into each other’s eyes, and the open bottle of wine and half-full glasses. Her face dropped and her eyes shouted hurt and betrayal. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.
The other three all looked at her. At a stroke, Emma realised that Louise had not been trying to get off with John; John realised that Louise had not been trying to get off with him and assumed that it must be Dan she had feelings for; and Dan didn’t know what to think. Did Louise fancy him? That he did not believe. And then, slowly, the uncomfortable truth dawned on him, there must be something going on between Louise and Emma.
The tension in the air could have been sliced as easily as Dan’s finger. Somebody really needed to say, ‘let’s eat that curry before it burns,’ but nobody did.
Eventually it occurred to Dan that he had spilled blood to provide them with supper that night. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s eat.’
The four of them sat down in silence to their platefuls of curry, still just about edible.
‘Look,’ said Louise, as they scraped their plates, ‘we’re all a bit tired and naggy. Why don’t we just knock today on the head, get an early night and get up feeling refreshed tomorrow, and hopefully with no hangover.’
It was barely nine o’clock and the evening sun was still slanting brightly through the lighthouse windows but that sounded a good plan. Louise and Emma badly wanted a conversation but not in front of John and Dan, and they in turn wanted to do some men-talk.
After clearing away and replacing the cork in the half-drunk bottle, John, Dan, Louise and Emma trooped slowly up the spiral staircase to turn in for the night. Louise closed the bedroom door behind her and Emma. She walked up to the window and loo
ked out at the rippling sea, bluish-purple under the declining light with a flickering line of gold from the setting sun.
She watched the seagulls swooping and diving for a minute and wondered what it would be like to be a bird, living such a free, uncomplicated life.
‘I don’t understand you Emma,’ she said, slowly. ‘I mean, isn’t it a bit fickle, a bit shallow, to be so cosy with Dan, sitting there round the kitchen table with your bottle of wine and your in-depth conversation and staring into each other’s eyes, and above all, holding hands? I mean, how do you think I felt when we walked in on you? I couldn’t work out why it was taking you so long to get the meal cooked.’
Emma chose this moment to fall silent, and so Louise carried on. ‘I just thought that you and me, that we had something special. And then within 24 hours, you’re carrying on with Dan in the kitchen. I just found that a bit hurtful.’
Eventually, Emma spoke: ‘I’m sorry Louise, look, we’ve both got this totally wrong. I wasn’t flirting with Dan, he was upset because he could tell I was upset. And I was upset because I thought you and John were getting off together in the lounge – that’s what it sounded like. And I thought that you were the one being shallow and fickle and not respecting what we had done the night before. There’s no way that I would carry on with someone else so soon after what happened between us.’
Realising they had both jumped to the wrong conclusions, it was normally reserved Emma who decided to take the initiative. She put her arms round Louise and pulled her close, and then placed her lips over her mouth. ‘Are you still wearing your sexy yellow swimming costume underneath that baggy jumper and shapeless jeans?,’ she whispered.
‘Oi, don’t you disrespect my jumper and jeans,’ retorted Louise.
‘I do disrespect them,’ replied Emma, narrowing her blue eyes mischievously, ‘now take them off.’
CHAPTER 6
The weather forecast the following morning proved only too accurate. The lighthouse crew were up early for them – a respectable 7.30am. They had slept well, worn out emotionally more so than physically. But they rose to find that the sun was not getting up with them. Rain spattered hard against the ground floor windows of the lighthouse – mixed with sea spray thrown against the thick panes from huge waves colliding with the rocks around them.
