‘Yes and no, well not exactly. I had feelings for this person and I had hoped that he might feel the same way or at least that I could work up to having a chance. Seemingly, no longer. I don’t think I stand much if any chance with him.’
Dan winced. It was an easy guess who Emma was talking about: John. And she now suspected that John was keen on Louise and she on him.
‘Oh well,’ ploughed on Dan. ‘Looks like you and me both have had our hopes dashed, so why don’t we 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?’ she said, brushing her tears away and looking hard at him.
‘Well,’ said Dan, uncertainly, ‘your hopes dashed with some man and mine with . . .’ he paused, ‘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 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. He shrugged.
Emma imitated him. ‘What does that mean? I’ll take that as a “no”, shall I?’
There was no going back now. ‘Yes of course it’s you. 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, erm, 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 gave them a squeeze. ‘You silly thing, if you’d plucked up courage to ask me for a date during term time, I might have said yes, but you never gave me any clue.’
‘I’ve left it too late, I suppose, since you’re clearly besotted with John.’
‘I’m not besotted,’ replied Emma. She scowled as Dan grinned at her, realising she’d given his identity away. ‘Ok, you might as well know, it’s John. I’m not madly in love with him, I fancy him that’s all, and my mind is all over the place as a result. Like I say, I don’t think he’s interested in me. I thought he was a bit, last term, but now I don’t get any vibe from him at all. In fact, quite the contrary, he seems keen on Louise, unless that’s just my subconscious fear.’
‘I’m sorry Emma,’ Dan said, slowly. ‘I’ve known for a while that John held a candle for Louise. He’s mentioned it a number of times at uni. It’s just he’s never had it in him to ask her before now. John’s like that you know, extrovert in many ways, but with women he often falls at the final hurdle. I have no idea whether his feelings are reciprocated, however.’
Emma thought inwardly that the ongoing good cheer in the lounge eloquently answered that point. Her face looked pained but then she seemed to brighten up, as if it had suddenly sunk in that Dan, at least, did like her.
‘Listen,’ she said, clasping his hand, ‘I’m pleased you’ve told me – about your feelings and you know more about what’s going on in my head.’
Dan opened his mouth to clarify whether he might still stand a chance with Emma when Louise and John walked into the kitchen.
‘Come on, you pair, how long does it take to cook a curry?’ joked Louise.
Emma pulled guiltily away from Dan, as if anxious not to blow any faint chance she might still have with John. John wasn’t much good at interpreting body language in any event but Louise realised that they seemed to have interrupted something. For a moment an awkward silence prevailed.
Then it occurred to Dan that he had spilt blood to provide them with supper that night. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s eat, the curry is ready and waiting.’
The four of them sat down to their meal, with the hint of a subdued atmosphere in the air. John and Louise could sense some sort of tension between Dan and Emma but neither wished to broach the subject.
‘Look,’ said Louise, as they scraped their plates, ‘we’re all a bit tired and naggy. Why don’t we 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 still slanted brightly through the lighthouse windows but that sounded a good plan. Emma badly wanted a conversation with Louise 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, they trooped slowly up the winding metal rungs of the staircase to turn in for the night. Louise closed the bedroom door behind her and Emma. She walked to the window and looked out at the rippling sea, bluish-purple under the waning light, save for a flickering line of golden sunset across its surface.
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.
‘You seemed tense earlier, Emma,’ she said, slowly. ‘Is everything all right with you and Dan? It sort of felt like we were interrupting a deep conversation when we walked in, but then you backed away from him like he was a leper. The pair of you barely spoke to each other during the meal, or to us, for that matter.’
‘Us? By “us” you mean you and John? It sounds like you pair are an item these days,’ replied Emma, a touch sharply.
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Louise. ‘We were having a perfectly innocent chat and a laugh on the sofa, at either ends of it and enjoying our beers. What’s wrong with that?’
‘With your legs crossed over each other.’
‘Only because both of us wanted to sprawl out. There’s nothing going on between John and me – I’d say if there was. I mean, we’re all adults, why should I be coy about it?’
‘Exactly, that’s fine. I just think if you’re having a relationship while we’re together on holiday, then it’s best that the rest of us know. Personally, I had hoped we could be here as platonic friends, rather than trying to get off with each other.’
‘Personally, I think we should go with the flow,’ said Louise, turning her gaze away from the sea and a sky now pricked with a handful of bright stars. She looked askance at Emma. ‘Isn’t it slightly hypocritical of you, bearing in mind how cosy you were evidently getting with Dan before we came in, to object to John and me bonding a little?’
‘I wasn’t getting cosy with Dan,’ snapped Emma. ‘He does like me, if you must know, but I am not after him and more or less told him so. Anyway, you carry on bonding with lover boy.’
‘I get it,’ replied Louise. ‘I’ve worked out why you jumped back from Dan like you’d had an electric shock when John and I walked into the kitchen. Of course! You fancy John and you didn’t want him to see you with your hand in Dan’s – whom you were trying to comfort after you spurned his declaration of love for you. Meanwhile, you resent me getting on well with John. Only like I said, John and I are nothing more than flirtatious friends – ok? I’ll be honest, I am keen on him but I don’t think he feels the same way. I think he sees me as someone to have a cheeky giggle with and nothing more.’
Emma nodded. ‘Ok. Please don’t let’s fall out, Louise. I’m sorry for getting jealous. You and John would actually make a lovely couple I feel – if you did get it together. Either way, he’s not interested in me and I might as well stop pining for something I am not going to have.’
Louise gave Emma’s arm a squeeze. ‘You and Dan would definitely make a lovely couple if you could only see it. The important thing is, like you say, that we are good friends and have a great holiday here together. Now come on, let’s get some sleep.’
Chapter V
The weather forecast the following morning proved only too accurate. The lighthouse crew were up early by their standards – a respectable 7.30am. They had slept well but 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.
The sea was a foaming mass of dark grey, tossed about by a rattling wind. They shivered at the sight and realised that there would be no boat trips that day, not while the weather remained so bad.
If the atmosphere outside was stormy, inside the lighthouse the tension had vanished. John and Louise seemed oblivious to each other’s affections and Dan and Emma appeared to have accepted that their respective hopes of romance had been dashed.
John boiled the kettle and put out four mugs in a row. ‘Cup of tea, girls?’ he asked as Louise and Emma walked into the kitchen. ‘Did you have a good night’s sleep?’
They nodded as they picked up their mugs of steaming tea and took them into the lounge. They pulled rugs around them while Louise got the fire going. Even though it was summer, the lighthouse would remain chilly with wind and rain pounding it on all sides.
‘I think we are officially grounded today,’ declared Emma, stating the obvious. ‘You know what, I don’t mind the odd day like this when I’m on holiday, it’s such a good excuse to relax and catch up on reading.’
The others agreed. Although different in their own ways, they were intelligent, thoughtful people who had got to Oxford University for a good reason – they were studious and highly talented. They were the sort who rarely got bored because they always found something interesting to do with their time.
‘Let’s chill out playing cards, reading our Kindles, drinking hot chocolate, eating some of those muffins we bought yesterday and enjoying the glorious view of the stormy sea,’ continued Emma, sounding cheerful and relaxed.
She was visibly happy and Dan pondered whether possibly Louise had told her nothing was going on between her and John. Had Emma let Louise know that John did, in fact, fancy her? Dan guessed not. Maybe Emma would make a pass at him sooner or later. If only he had asked her out sooner, but there was no point thinking like that, if it was meant to be, it was meant to be. As for him, being a similar type to her, a day ‘indoors’, feet up, hot drink and a good book, plus a stunning sea view sounded perfect.
By mid-morning the storm was raging overhead and the sea looked dark and angry. The sight from the lighthouse was breathtaking.
‘You can imagine, can’t you, what it must have been like aboard a creaking old vessel centuries ago and coming to grief on the terrible rocks around here in weather like this,’ mused John, staring through the window.
‘Oh yes, and from what I know many did – the wreckers caused some ships to founder, but others were simply lost due to the storms and strong currents,’ said Louise. ‘Whatever the reason, the outcome was always the same, when ships broke up, the smugglers and looters would be on the shore within minutes, waiting for valuables to wash up and pinching whatever they could.
‘I would love to know more about the history of smuggling and wrecking along the Cornish coast,’ said Dan. ‘I don’t suppose there are any books on it in the lighthouse, are there, Louise?’
‘Hmmm, not books as such I don’t think. There are modern books about the shipwrecks round here and some of the treasures they contained, but I don’t think we have any in the lighthouse.’
She paused, thinking hard. ‘I tell you what there is, in the cellar there are some old legal documents relating to the lighthouse and a box of papers and some old record books and ledgers of various kinds. So my parents said anyway. Apparently some of them are in Spanish or something in a spidery copper-plate handwriting and my parents couldn’t make head nor tail of it.’
‘That sounds interesting,’ said Dan. ‘I know some Spanish, I might be able to translate it.’
‘Also,’ said John, ‘I’ve been wanting a chance to explore this lighthouse more and go down that cellar, if that’s ok Louise.’
‘Of course it is,’ she replied, ‘it’s musty in there and not terribly interesting, but let’s go and have a look if you like.’
Louise flicked a lever on the wall and a hole opened in the floor beneath the spiral staircase. They could see steps leading below. Louise lit an oil lamp to take as there was no natural light.
The cellar had that musty, salty, fish and oilskins smell that you get on ships and it felt almost as if they were entering a ship’s hold. A couple of old trunks lay scattered about, covered in cobwebs. The first they opened contained rusting tools which looked at least a century old. In the other were the documents and notebooks to which Louise had referred. She lifted a handful out: parchments, stamped with red sealing wax, which appeared to be legal particulars relating to the construction of the lighthouse and its sale. Underneath were a couple of ledgers and a leather-bound notebook filled with elegant, looping copperplate script on yellowed, fox-marked pages. It was impossible to decipher in such low light.
‘I tell you what,’ said Dan. ‘Why don’t we take this box back with us, we’ll have a better chance of making out its contents in daylight.’
The others agreed but while they were down there, they looked about for any crevices and nooks and crannies they could find. ‘You never know,’ said John, ‘there might be a secret passageway or something.’
If so, it was well hidden. Nor were there any iron rings or levers embedded in the wall. They came across a few old curiosities – bric-a-brac, old lamp wicks and tins of what appeared to be ancient lamp oil – no doubt dating back to the days when oil powered the great lighthouse lamp.
Disappointed, but nonetheless curious about the documents in the chest, the four students climbed the steep stone stairs back to the ground floor, blinking in the bright daylight. The weather had not improved. If anything it had got worse. The sky was greenish-black and the sea a turbulent mass of grey and white foam, angrily splattering itself over the rocks of Wreckers Island.
‘Let’s haul the box up to the lamp room and look at its contents there,’ suggested Louise. ‘That’s the best place for natural light. We could take a nice mug of coffee or chocolate up and enjoy the amazing storm at the same time.’
John and Dan lugged the box up the winding staircase while the girls followed with mugs of hot drinks and biscuits. There was no furniture so they took some rugs and cushions.
‘Isn’t this magical,’ said Louise.
‘You know,’ said Dan, ‘I still have to pinch myself that you weren’t fibbing when you invited us to a place like this, but I’m so glad I did believe you in the end. It’s simply awesome, especially with this gale blowing. You can actually feel it buffeting the lighthouse. I hope it won’t blow over!’
For a few minutes, the leather-bound trunk was forgotten as the four of them sat on the rugs, gazing through the glass, sipping their drinks and nibbling their snacks.
‘Right,’ said Dan, eventually. ‘Let’s spread out the contents of the box carefully on the rug and see what we can make of it.’
The parchments relating to the island and construction of the lighthouse were written in obscure 19th century legal jargon. There was a scale map of the lighthouse and, interestingly, of the island itself prior to its construction. The year the lighthouse was built was given in Roman numerals – MDCCCLXXVII.
‘I wonder what that would be,’ mused Louise. ‘I wish I was better at things like this.’
‘1877,’ said Dan within seconds.
The others looked at him, impressed.
‘It’s easy,’ he said. ‘People never seem to learn Roman numerals properly these days – M is 1,000, D is 500, three Cs gives you 300, so that’s 1800. L is 50, add the two Xs which is 20 and VII which is seven – 1877. You never know when it will come in useful.’
‘Ah, you’re not just a pretty face, are you!’ said Emma, playfully pinching his cheek.
‘Ok, what’s the year 1644 in Roman numerals,’ teased Louise.
‘MDCXLIV,’ replied Dan within a second. ‘Ok, come on, it isn’t Latin we need but Spanish,
I want to try and work out the writing in that notebook if I can. It doesn’t seem to bear any relation to the legal documents belonging to the lighthouse.’
He picked it up carefully. As they had noticed in the cellar, it was filled with spidery writing in proper ink on thick parchment-type pages.
‘Look, a date on the inside cover – can you see, el 30 de Octubre, MDCCLXXX. That’s the 30th October, 1780.’
‘1780!’ exclaimed the others. So this was an incredibly old book which pre-dated the lighthouse by more than a century.
‘What do you think, Dan?’ asked Emma. ‘Can you make any of the words out?’
Dan took the notebook over to the huge window to get as much natural light on it as possible. Not only was the writing decorated with numerous flourishes, curls and loops, but in places the ink was faded and smudged. Even for a native Spaniard it would be no easy task to decipher.
‘It looks to me like a sort of diary,’ said Dan, slowly. ‘I think perhaps it has been written by a ship’s captain, there are dates and places mentioned and little maps but most of it appears to be flowing description of some kind.’
‘What does it say?’ asked John, eagerly.
‘Don’t crowd round me please!’ replied Dan, not enjoying being put on the spot. ‘I could do with putting this notebook on a table and I’ll need to get some writing paper, a pen and my Spanish dictionary, pull up a chair and have a few minutes’ peace while I try to work it out.’
Dan went off to get some stationery and his dictionary while Louise fetched him a fold-up table and camping chair from the store room. Emma went downstairs and got him another coffee and more biscuits to keep him supplied.
He returned with what he called his small Spanish dictionary. ‘I didn’t bring my big one,’ he said, ‘because I wasn’t anticipating needing to translate a centuries-old Spanish diary while we were on holiday.’
‘Well,’ said John, grinning, ‘it shows you should never assume anything. I’m glad we didn’t jet off anywhere in the end, you’d have had us paying a fortune going over the weight limits for the flight.’
Wreckers Island (romantic suspense) Page 3
