by Amy Shaw
"How did I know what? Where the crowns were?"
"Yes, exactly."
"I didn't. It was Eugene Hart. He pretty much laid it all out for me. The metal detector just helped me zone in," explained Mark.
"Well I don't know how he could have possibly worked all this out. It all seems rather suspicious to me that you would turn up here today and head straight for the lake," Mr. Mathews stated.
"Well I don't know exactly how the man conducts his research but he gives it everything he's got. Remember, he was a private eye so the man knows a thing or two about finding things out that others don't want to be found out," Mark said as he pulled up his brown leather boots under his jeans.
"Well, perhaps we should pay Mr. Hart a visit and thank him in person," suggested Mr. Mathews.
Munro smiled as he placed his gear into the trunk of his black Jaguar sports car. Closing the lid, he turned to Mr. Mathews and simply stated, "Just be glad he has a heart and does this for the benefit of others. We'd make a lot more than a finder's fee if we just did this for ourselves and sold it on the black market. And anyway, you won't find him because we don't want you, or anyone else sticking their beaks in. We need to protect the interests of our other clients. I'm sure you'd appreciate us keeping this and the royal factor a secret, won't you?" Munro finished in a matter of fact tone of voice.
"Yes Mark, of course, I wasn't suggesting we'd interfere. Please pass my regards onto Mr. Hart and I wish him a full recovery."
Shaking Mr. Mathews hand, Mark wished him well and reminded him to send a copy of the report to Eugene's mailing address. Mr. Mathews drove towards the gates in his Ford and was met with a police escort.
Mark fired up his Jaguar F-Type coupe, the V8 bursting out a sharp sounding crackle before settling into a rumbling throb. Pulling out onto the main road he floored the throttle and the Jag surged forward in a violent thrust, racing through the fast shifting gears. Catching up the police convoy ahead, Mark eased off the throttle as blue flickers of light flashed over his face. "Well, this makes a change, having blue lights flashing in front of me…" he thought to himself, before turning off and blasting across the Welsh mountains.
Reaching down to his phone, he pressed #1 on the speed- dial and waited for the phone to start ringing.
Eugene's answer phone clicked on so Mark left a message. "Gene! It's Mark, I'm in the cat and she's purring over the Black Mountains, you still not back yet? Well, all I'm going to say is - you were right, more than right. Charlie boy was well happy, Mr. Mathews is his usual self, and I'm knackered… and still damp. I have something for your collection, I don't know if you're asleep or if you're still not back yet but …" - a bleep from his phone told him the signal had been lost and his connection cut mid call.
The mountains were beautiful but they restricted coverage from communication masts. Mark sighed and decided to try again when he was at a higher peak.
Sitting back into the leather seats, Mark enjoyed the rising whine of the engine's supercharger. He always enjoyed a spirited drive and the Jaguar was as comfortable as it was fast. Although, he had to be careful. Getting stopped for speeding didn't bother him too much. But glancing over at the glove box, Mark smiled. It wouldn't help royal relations if the car was searched and the glove box was opened. Mark always liked to keep a memento of his adventures for Eugene. After all, he was a treasure hunter.
For Eugene, a memento made the expedition more real. After conducting the research, hearing Mark's account and seeing pictures, it could sometimes feel a little flat. But an artifact from the day brought the whole thing to life, and added a sense of satisfaction and connection that looking through a glass display in a museum could never bring. Mark couldn't wait to see Eugene again for one of their much loved treasure talks, enjoying a coffee with a view of the cove.
Four signal bars appeared across Mark's phone indicating a strong reception. Mark thought he'd finish the call and ask Eugene to contact him as soon as he was back from the States. Pressing #1 again on his phone, it rang for three rings but this time the answer phone message didn't kick in. Someone picked up.
But it wasn't Eugene.
3
The Abbey Key
The piercing ring of the phone jolted Abby from the eerie silence of the cottage.
"Hello?" Abby asked again.
"Hi, who's this?" the voice asked.
"Abby. Who's this?"
"Abby? Hi, my name's Mark, I was looking to speak with Gene."
"I'm sorry Mr. Mark, he's not here at the moment, can I ask what this is regarding?"
"Yes, I'm a friend, and I've just finished a job he organized and was going to call in on him tomorrow morning."
Abby delayed her response. "I'm sorry Mr. Mark, tomorrow morning isn't a good time because I have some men booked in to arrive at the cottage."
"That's ok, the afternoon will be fine. And please, it's just Mark, that's my first name. I wasn't sure if he was even back yet from the States."
"Yes he er…," Abby paused trying to choose her words. "He is back, but… you say you're a friend?"
"Yes that's right, a very close friend. Are you okay? What men are coming tomorrow?"
"Some men from a house clearance firm," Abby said trying hard to hide the tears in her voice.
Mark eased his foot up from the accelerator, spotting a layby up ahead. "Hang on a moment, let me just pull over a sec," he let the big brakes bring the car to a stop. As the engine throbbed on idle, Mark closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. "What's happened Abby? What's going on?"
"My grandpa hasn't been well for a few months now and I'm afraid his condition worsened when he visited us last month."
"You're his granddaughter? I'm sorry I didn't realize."
"Mark, I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news," Abby said trying to keep her emotions calm, "but my grandpa has passed away."
Mark sat stunned. Looking out of the side window at the mountains in the distance, he shook his head. "Abby?"
"Yes?"
"You're Abby?"
"Yes I am."
So that's what it meant. It wasn't a key to an Abbey, it was a key for an Abby! "I'm really sorry to hear this Abby. I'm truly sorry for your loss."
"I'm sorry too Mark, I'm sorry for you to find out this way."
Breathing out a sigh, Mark said, "I can't believe we often joked about this happening in the middle of a case. I swear it's like he knew and got me out here doing this damn recovery mission knowing exactly how it would play out."
"Well that sounds like Grandpa, always plotting and scheming something."
"A few moments ago you mentioned he was back - what did you mean by that."
Abby went quiet and tried again to hold back the tears. "What I meant was… I meant that I've, I…"
"It's okay Abby, I think I understand. Eugene told me about your grandma and how he brought her back to the lighthouse. He told me they were the happiest they'd ever been when holidaying in England which is why they bought the lighthouse as a holiday home."
"That's right, they were."
"So I get it. He wanted to be with her again and I guess now they can both go together at the same time." Mark rubbed tears from his eyes.
"Same time? But he already scattered her ashes off the coast?"
"No," Mark replied softly. "He didn't. He's kept them until he could join her. It wasn't just the sea he wanted to be sent off in, it was a particular place."
Abby was confused. She had come here to scatter her grandfather's ashes, his one last wish. It's what everyone had understood he did when he brought her grandma's urn back to England. "But there's no urn here in the cottage or in the lighthouse, I would have seen it."
"There's a special place in the lighthouse. It's your grandfather's study where he worked on important projects, and until just a moment ago I didn't know how I could show you. But now I realize what he's done. I have something he left for you."
"Something for me?"
&nbs
p; "Yes, you specifically."
"What? What did he leave me?"
"A book."
Sounding almost disappointed, Abby said "Oh really, I was hoping maybe it was something more."
"It is something more. It contains a key inside. When he gave it to me he only said 'for my abbey' and that I would understand when the time was right. I always assumed it was a specific key. A key to an old abbey that I'd one day need to explore. But now I realize it wasn't a specific key, it was a specific person. Not an abbey, but you - Abby."
Feeling more interested, Abby asked, "A key to what?"
"Without meaning to sound overly dramatic, it's a key to another world. A world your grandfather only wanted you to see. His world. He would have known only you would care enough to make the journey from America to England to carry out his final wish. Only thing is, what you think is his final wish isn't. His real final wish is for you to open a door and take a step into the unknown."
"Mark, are you for real? This sounds crazy!"
"Yes Abby, I am. And yes it does sound crazy. But it also sounds…"
"Like my Grandpa!"
"Indeed."
"But what study? There isn't a study in the cottage or the lighthouse. I've been here before and know every inch of this place. And I would know if there was any extra furniture I have to organize for the house clearance people tomorrow."
"Cancel them."
"What?"
"Trust me, just cancel them, this is too important."
"But I'm leaving on Friday after the sale. Everything is booked."
Mark was taken aback. This was all so sudden. With the thought of Eugene's passing barely sinking in, now the lighthouse is being cleared out. "Damn, you don't hang around do you? Please just trust me, I'll show you everything. Then if you still want the furniture out I will take care of it myself. I promise. But you're going to want to see this."
Abby thought for a moment. "Okay, so I'll see you tomorrow then?"
"Yes. Tell you what, there's a kettle in the lantern room at the top of the lighthouse, why don't we sit up there and have a chat. It's where me and Gene would chat when he had something important to share with me. He would call me up and ask if I fancied a coffee with a view, and then I knew it was going to be something good. I know he'd get a kick out of this if he knew we were both sitting up there."
"Sounds good to me. It will be interesting to meet you Mark. See you tomorrow."
"And you, see you tomorrow."
Mark rested his elbow on the armrest and brought his clenched fist up to his mouth. Imagining the last time he saw Eugene and their chat, could Gene have known that he was going back to the States for the last time? He was a sneaky bugger and this was his style. No last goodbyes, so his spirit would always be felt. Mark rubbed away a tear rolling down his cheek, grabbed the gear shift and selected 'drive' before pressing the accelerator to the floor and spinning the rear wheels into a cloud of tire smoke. The big Jag gave a hearty growl into the late afternoon air and leaped forward disappearing into the mountains. Mark had a new mission now.
4
Grandpa's Secret
The silence of the early morning stillness was broken by the hard edged crackle of the supercharged V8 slicing through the narrow Devon lanes. The wing mirrors clipped the wet hedge lines splashing morning dew along the sleek black body of the Jaguar sports car.
Upon entering the tiny village of Hope Cove Mark took the sharp left for Inner Hope and cruised along the cliff edge stopping momentarily outside the chapel that overlooks the cove. The lighthouse stood on the opposite cliff with the beach below lined by sharp rocks and cliff edges. The tide was out revealing a smooth blanket of sand. Mark checked his watch and couldn't help grab himself a quick half hour detecting on the shoreline. It was an old favorite of Gene's and one of the main reasons he came to England. This was the site of a Spanish shipwreck where silver coins could sometimes be found along the slipway in front of the old lifeboat house.
Mark drove along the lower sea wall and turned left to park opposite the lifeboat house. At this time of the morning his best parking space was almost guaranteed and meant he only needed to make a few steps across the road and down the slipway. In front of the lifeboat house the small pathway led up steep steps along the cliff edge and up onto the cliff top where the lighthouse sat.
Mark opened the trunk and pulled out the detector. Walking across to the slipway he stood looking over the cove and watched the sea lap against the small harbor wall, a slight smile on his face as memories of Gene came flooding. Gene was obsessed with finding the shipwreck and loved this beach. Mark had spent many hours sweeping the detector along the sands and into the caves. It was Gene who encouraged Mark to get an underwater machine and get deeper into the surf where the best gold and silver rings were sitting there waiting to be picked like fruit from a low hanging tree. And it was this beach that Eugene would risk venturing onto in a storm as the winds and waves churned up the sands stripping it to the hard pack and revealing secrets lost for hundreds of years.
Mark walked down the slipway and onto the sands. Selecting his start point over by the tree lined lower cliff edge he rested the machine against his long handled sand scoop and put in his small ear headphones, when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. A few feet away small gravel sized rocks began to fall from the cliff edge and before he was even aware of his actions, instinct took over and caused every fiber of his muscles to run with full force.
***
After a restless night in the Keeper's Cottage, Abby was up early with coffee in hand going through her grandfather's paperwork. The night time sounds of foxes screeching in the surrounding countryside, the howling wind whistling around the lighthouse while the waves pounded the rocks below was different from her romantic memories. Or perhaps it had more to do with the phone call with Mark the day before and the mysterious book and key. She hadn't cancelled the house clearance like Mark asked, but had postponed them for a couple of days. That would give Mark time to give her the key and let her see what her Grandpa Eugene had wanted before the final details of clearing the cottage and lighthouse would begin.
Abby began making a list of the utilities companies that needed calling. It all seemed simple from the water board to the council tax to the telephone provider. But one bill was confusing. Internet broadband. There was no computer in the cottage anywhere, nor did she remember seeing anything in the lighthouse. But then how did Grandpa send the family emails over the years? He must have taken his laptop with him to the States and it remained there. Finishing her coffee, Abby put on her boots and reached for her coat. She had spent far too long sitting down over the past couple of days. Time for some fresh air and to get the blood moving.
Leaving the cottage, Abby made her way through the side gate and was met by an older couple walking their boisterous Labrador.
"Good morning! What a lovely day!" they enthusiastically bellowed.
"Hi, good morning," Abby shouted back as the dog came running up to her with his tail wagging. "Hello, oh what a gorgeous chocolate coat you have!" she said stroking the Lab's soft fur as he jumped up to greet her.
"Come on Max!" the owners shouted across, "Don't get the poor girl all muddy." With that the dog turned and went bounding across the path, straight past the owners to the grassy cliff edge before turning again and bounding back towards Abby.
"Goodness, he sure has a lot of energy!" Abby laughed.
"I think it's the fresh morning sea air that does it. Hello, I'm Ken and this is my wife Margaret," the couple introduced themselves.
"Hi, I'm Abby, pleased to meet you."
"Are you a relation to Eugene?" Margaret asked.
"Yes, he was my grandpa, how did you know?"
"Coming out of the lighthouse gate with your lovely American accent we thought you must be family. How is Eugene?"
"I'm afraid he's no longer with us. He passed away at his home in the States."
"Oh my dear, I
am so sorry, how terrible."
"He hadn't been well for a while but it still came as a shock. He never did learn how to relax and take things easy."
"Ah that's Eugene through and through," said Ken. "He was a bundle of energy and could squeeze more into a day than young folks half his age. Hope Cove ain't gonna be the same without him that's for sure."
"No it's not," said Margaret, "Who's going to find the San Pedro now?"
"The San Pedro? What's that?" Abby asked.
"It was the ship that crashed into the rocks down in the cove," said Margaret. "From the Spanish Armada fleet."
"I thought that was a myth, a folks tale," said Abby.
"Oh no, dear, it's a real ship and your grandfather could always be found somewhere down on the sands, in the water or climbing around the rocks especially when Mark was with him," Ken said.
"A right troublesome pair those two," Margaret laughed with a mischievous look on her face. "Especially that dishy Mark when he comes out of the water with his muscles on show. Oh, if I was thirty years younger I'd…"
Max came bounding up to see what the delay was, jumping in the air barking for attention.
"Okay Max, we're coming," said Ken.
Margaret turned to Abby and grabbed her hand squeezing it gently, "Eugene was a wonderful man dear, we will miss him greatly. Perhaps his spirit will live on through you being here."
"I wish that was the case, I'm actually leaving on Friday," Abby said in a sullen voice.
"Just come back and visit us once in a while," Margaret said in a concerned tone.
Abby swallowed and just nodded.
The three of them walked along the cliff top, across the open green field towards a small wooded area where a narrow stony track led down through the trees to the lifeboat house on the seafront. Max enjoyed running ahead before turning and bolting back past them, stopping for the occasional sniff along the bush line before leaving his scent.
