by Sam Short
The two heads nodded once more. “Just about,” said the older man. “I’d appreciate it if you could speak up just a little, though. My ears aren’t as good as they once were. The doctor says it’s age related, but my wife insists some warm olive oil will sort it out.”
Tom sighed. “Try the oil.” He stared at Eric. “Thank you for the offer, members of The Spellbinder Sand Diggers,” he said, his voice raised. “But I’d rather douse my testicles in cheap brandy and set fire to them, than join your club of losers! You’ll never know where I found my gold, and there’s plenty more where it came from, too! I didn’t tell Pawn Shop Pete where I’d found it, so good luck searching — it’s a very big beach, and I’ll have emptied the hot-spot of gold before you get anywhere near it!”
Eric bristled with rage, and Millie took a nervous step away from him. “How dare you!” he yelled. “You’ll regret not taking us up on our offer! We’ll find out where you found that gold, Tom Temples! You mark my words! You’ve messed with the wrong club! We’re not the softies from The Bexington Beach Burrowers — we’re The Spellbinder Sand Diggers! And we don’t mess around! You’d better watch your back!”
“Okay! That’s enough,” said Stan, hurrying across the pub floor and grabbing Eric’s elbow in a large hand. “We can accept a little shouting in The Fur and Fangs, but we do not accept threats towards our patrons! It’s time for you to leave!”
“You get a badge, Tom — when you join!” urged Eric. “And a free cup of coffee or tea, with a biscuit, at meetings! A homemade biscuit! Often with a choice of raisins or chocolate chips! Sometimes both, Tom. Sometimes both!”
“No thank you,” retorted Tom. “I can buy all the biscuits and badges I like from now on!”
Eric allowed himself to be escorted to the door as the rest of the customers looked on. As Stan pushed the door open, and guided the grumbling man through it, Eric gave one final warning. “Watch your back, Tom Temples! Watch your back! You’ve been warned!”
“Sorry about that, ladies and gents,” said Stan, as the door slammed shut. “Now he’s out of the way, let’s have a little quiz!”
“Gold fever,” said Tom, over the excited chatter of the other customers. “An awful thing.”
“Are you okay?” said Millie. “You look a little shaken.”
Tom smiled. “I’m fine. Now off you go, and enjoy your quiz, young lady. I’ll finish my sandwich and go home for an early night — I’m going back into the dunes at sunrise tomorrow, before those idiots do manage to find my spot.”
“I know it!” said Millie. “I actually know it!”
George scratched his nose. “Are you sure? This could win it for us. I haven’t seen any of the other teams write an answer with any confidence.”
Millie took a gulp of beer and wiped her mouth. “I spoke to Aunty Hannah on the phone yesterday,” she began.
“In Australia!” said Judith.
“Yes,” said Millie, “and after I’d spoken to her and Uncle James, they put Peter on the phone! He’s settling into his new country wonderfully, and he loves school! He’s only six, but he’s really bright — he told me all about what they were learning regarding the history of Australia, and he was very proud that he knew the name of the first Prime Minister!” She cupped her hand around George’s ear, and whispered. “Edmund Barton. Write it down.”
George put pen to paper, his pupils dilating as he looked at Millie. “Are you sure? This could win it for us.”
“I trust my little nephew,” said Millie. “Write it down. We’ll win the star prize! We’ll win the turkey crown from Edward and Son’s Butchers, and the free pint of ale each from the Fur and Fangs microbrewery range — prize not transferable to outside brewery supplied ales.”
George scribbled on the paper. “Say what you want, but it’s better than last month’s prize — a basket of scented candles and a sandwich each.”
“Prize not transferable to the hot food menu!” laughed Judith.
“I’m glad we didn’t win last month,” smiled George. “But I’d like tonight’s prize.”
George lifted his head as a girl seated at a table near the fireplace called his name. “Got the answer?” she teased. “How about you share it with us? We’d make it worth your while!”
The four women at the table burst into laughter, making George smile. “I’m sorry ladies,” he said, “you’re on your own — I want the prize tonight! You know I’m a wee bit partial to a nice plump bird!”
The girls broke into another round of laughter, their eyes fixed firmly on George. Millie had become accustomed to girls taking a fancy to George, but for a reason she couldn’t quite put a finger on, she didn’t much like it.
She stared at George. “What terrible flirting. That was embarrassing. And probably sexist. Is one of those girls your nurse?”
George displayed his white teeth in an over-exaggerated grin, his eyes dancing with fun. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Like I said earlier, you have your secret, and I have mine.”
“You all heard my secret!” said Millie, fixing George with a scowl. “The whole pub heard the argument about Tom’s gold! That was my secret.”
Running a hand through his thick dark hair, George sat back in his seat and handed the team’s sheet of paper to Mary as she passed their table, collecting quiz answers. “Maybe I like having a secret,” he said.
Millie narrowed her eyes. “Fair enough,” she conceded. “Keep your secret. I don’t care.”
George smiled. “I know that stare, Millie Thorn,” he said. “Are you trying to read my thoughts?”
“No, George Brown,” she said, quickly tuning out of the signals she was receiving from numerous sources in the room. “I promised I wouldn’t attempt to read anyone’s thoughts unless it was important. Your thoughts are safe in your head.” She gulped two fingers of beer. “They’re probably better off trapped inside that thick skull than they are let loose in public, anyway.”
George drained the last of his beer, and laughed. “Good,” he said. “I don’t want my juicy secret getting out.”
“Children!” snapped Judith. “Quit the bickering. Stan’s about to read out the answers and announce the winners.”
Stan stood at the bar reading out the answers, to groans and excited muttering from the assembled teams, and when he announced The Dazzling Duo as the winners, the other teams gave a polite round of applause as Judith collected the turkey crown and three vouchers for a free pint of beer.
“Thank you!” she shouted, as she made her way back to the table, plopping the wrapped meat in front of Millie as she sat down. “There,” she said. “You take it home… that fridge of yours needs some healthy food in it, and I thought maybe you’d like to invite your fellow pub quiz team members for a meal at your cottage?”
“That would be nice!” said George. “Will there be roast potatoes?”
“And cranberry sauce?” said Judith. “You can’t have turkey without cranberry sauce.”
Rolling her eyes, Millie smiled. “Do you two fancy coming to mine for a meal on Wednesday night? I’m doing turkey with cranberry sauce and roast potatoes.”
“That would be splendid,” said George. “I’ll put it in my diary.”
“Diary!” laughed Judith. “Since when does a man who spends most of his days whizzing around the countryside on his motorbike need a diary? People with jobs and responsibilities need diaries — not wealthy vampire gallivants!”
“Don’t pick on me,” smiled George. “Anyway, Millie could be accused of the same thing. She hasn’t done anything meaningful with her life since arriving in Spellbinder Bay!”
Millie tossed a beer mat at George. “Apart from solving a murder,” she said. “That was pretty meaningful. And the very fact that I live in this town is the reason that the door to The Chaos remains sealed. My magical energy is quite meaningful, it seems.”
“You don’t need to do anything, though,” said George. “The door to the other dimension remains sealed because
you come from the same bloodline of witches who sealed it in the first place. It takes no effort on your behalf. And anyway, it’s never been fully sealed… things still sneak through every so often. When I say meaningful, I mean… meaningful — as in something that will fill your life with meaning.”
“I’ve been learning magic,” said Millie. “That’s meaningful. I’ve spent hours in the cavern beneath my cottage, trying to fix the magic I broke in Lillieth’s dress.”
“Any progress?” said Judith.
“I think so,” said Millie. “But I need Lillieth to come back to the bay before I can test it. Mermaids are rare, it’s not like I can fish one out of the sea, ask her to try the dress on, and see if she grows legs.”
“She’ll come back when she’s ready,” said George. “Then you can test her dress, and offer her your newly acquired lighthouse to live in, which is a very kind gesture in my opinion.”
“I feel sorry for her,” said Millie. “We accused her of murder, and I ruined her magic dress, and she said even when she wears the dress, she never feels safe enough to venture far away from the sea. What better place for her to live in than a lighthouse which is as close to the sea as you can be without being in it?”
“It’s very kind of you, Millie,” said Judith. “I’m sure Lillieth will be grateful, but George has a point — you have all that money, yet the only impressive thing you’ve bought with it is a car, and you spend your days in your cottage or on the beach. I think it would be good for you to have a purpose. Have you thought any more about what Henry suggested? Joining me?”
“Being a part-time teacher in Spellbinder Hall?” said Millie. “I don’t know. You enjoy doing it because you’ve had your magic for a lot longer than me, Judith. You’re better at it. What can I possibly teach paranormal kids that their own parents haven’t already taught them?”
“It’s not just paranormal stuff they learn,” said Judith. “And it’s not just witches you’ll be teaching — they don’t all need to learn magic. You have plenty of life experience which would benefit them, and you make a mean cake. You could teach them how to bake! The school has the facilities for cookery lessons, but they haven’t been used in years. Not since Marjory Timkins developed witch dementia and turned herself into a soufflé mix in front of a class of nine-year-olds.”
“Oh no!” said Millie. “Was she okay?”
“She would have been,” said Judith, her eyes dropping to her drink. “But one of the kids thought it would be funny to put her in the oven. Gas mark seven. She was in there for eleven minutes before another teacher popped into the classroom and removed her. It was too late to save her, though.”
“How awful!” said Millie.
“Did she rise?” said George.
“George!” said Judith. “That was horrible of you, but I doubt she rose after just eleven minutes.”
“Not long enough,” confirmed Millie. “You’d need at least twenty minutes in a hot oven for a decent risen soufflé.”
“So?” said Judith, smiling at Millie. “Will you do it? Teach baking at Spellbinder Hall?”
Millie drained the last of her beer. “After that horror story?” she said. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” said Judith. “Or at least promise you’ll consider the idea.”
With a sigh, Millie relented. “I’ll think about it,” she said, standing up and tucking the turkey crown under her arm. “But right now, I want to go home. I’ve drunk way too many beers, and I want to be up early for my run along the beach.”
“After your run,” said Judith, “would you mind coming to the police station? Dad has asked for my help with something, and I’m sure he’d appreciate your help, too. He thinks you’re some sort of Sherlock Holmes type since you solved Albert Salmon’s murder.”
“Not another murder?” said Millie. “I haven’t heard anything about a murder.”
Judith shook her head. “No. There are no mad murderers running around the bay,” she confirmed. “I think he wants help with his cold cases. There seems to be a lot of unsolved crimes in the Spellbinder Police records. Too many for him to get through on his own.”
Millie shrugged. What George had said was true. She didn’t have anything meaningful to do with her days, and since dragging herself from the junk food devouring doldrums she’d found herself in during the past few months, she needed something to focus on. She nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll help.”
“Great!” said Judith. “It’s a date! I’ll meet you at the police station at eleven o’clock.”
Chapter 4
Her head sore and her stomach protesting, Millie had quickly given up arguing when Reuben had announced that he wasn’t joining her for the morning jog. Upon insisting he had more important things to do, Millie had left the cockatiel to his own devices, and forced herself out of the front door and into the sea air.
It seemed that Wandering Witch beer had quite the bite in its broomstick, and Millie struggled to get up to pace as she wove a route through the sand dunes and onto the beach.
Her lungs full of revitalising air, and a cool breeze on her face, it didn’t take long until she felt a little better, and settled into an acceptable running rhythm, following the base of the sand dunes towards the end of the peninsula a mile away.
With firm sand beneath her feet, warm morning sun on her face, and the rolling ocean to her left, her head cleared further as she covered more ground, nearing the spot where she’d met Tom Temples the day before.
It was with little surprise that Millie noticed Tom as she edged around the curve of the shoreline. He’d said he was going back to the dunes at sunrise, and it seemed he’d been true to his word. Hunched over a hole dug in the sand on the slope of a dune, his shovel and metal detector laying amongst dune grasses and flowers, Tom remained motionless as he gazed into the hole he’d dug.
“Found something?” said Millie, approaching Tom from behind, her feet sinking into soft sand.
Tom moved quickly. Using his hands and forearms as scoops, he began refilling the hole with the pile of sand he’d excavated. “No!” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “No! This is an empty hole. There’s nothing to see here!”
Standing behind him, Millie peered over Tom’s shoulder. “When somebody says there’s nothing to see — there’s always something to see! What is it, Tom? What have you found?”
Tom scooped more sand back into the hole as Millie craned her neck for a better look. “I saw something!” said Millie. “Something white! It looks like a bone! What is it, Tom? What have you found?”
His face red, Tom looked up at Millie and sighed. “Okay,” he admitted. “I have found something. Something I think might be very important, but what I’ve found needs to be reported, and if I report it, this section of the beach will be cordoned off and I won’t be able to recover the rest of the gold which I know is still here.”
Millie knelt in the sand next to Tom. “Now I’m really interested,” she said. “What’s in the hole, Tom?” She gasped. Bones. Of course! “Is it a body?” she whispered.
Tom reached for his shovel, and began excavating the hole again. “No, of course not,” he said. “Well, not a human one, anyway. These remains are much older than a human. A lot older — I’d hazard a guess that they’re from the Jurassic Period, considering the fact that Spellbinder Bay is on the Jurassic Coast.”
Millie crouched lower, and began helping Tom excavate the hole, the sand cool against her hands. “A dinosaur?” she said. “Seriously? How exciting!”
Tom stopped digging and threw the shovel aside. "Not really," he said. He frowned, and shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. It is exciting, and had I found it at any other time, I'd have been ecstatic. It's just that if I report it, all the gold in this area will be lost to me. The people who excavate this whole area looking for more dinosaurs will either pocket the gold or give it to a museum. Either way… it won’t be mine.”
Millie continued moving sand aside, widening the hol
e. As her fingers made contact with the cold hardness of bone, she brushed away the final layer of sand, and stared in morbid fascination into a sand-filled eye socket of the skull which had been partially revealed.
She stood up and grabbed the shovel from beside Tom, and began widening the hole further. "I'm sorry, Tom," she said, being careful to keep the sharp edges of the shovel away from bone, "but you have to report this. I've always been fascinated by dinosaurs — I loved them when I was a child. I had loads of books about them — and I've never seen anything like this in any book I’ve read.” She threw the shovel aside, and knelt at the edge of the hole, staring at the huge skull. "I think you may have found a new species of dinosaur, Tom. This is very important! You have to report it, and if you don't, I will." She raised an eyebrow. "Who knows? If it is a new species, maybe they’ll name it after you."
Tom stared at Millie. "Really?" he said. He tilted his head, and gazed at the skull. "Tomosaurus," he murmured. "It does roll off the tongue, doesn't it? Are you sure it's a new species?"
Millie stood up and took a step backwards. She estimated the hole to be a metre in diameter, and the skull filled most of it. At the base of the wide skull, the upper portion of the creature’s spine was visible, and if the whole of the skeleton lay beneath the sand, Millie guessed the complete remains would be at least fifteen metres long. "Well… I've never seen anything like it," she said. "Look at it. Look at the size of the teeth compared to the head. You'd expect an animal which was this big to have had huge teeth, but these teeth are small, and they look sharp, and there must be hundreds of them!"
Tom stared at the creature. "And it has horns!" he said. "Tiny horns. Horns which look too small for such a huge head!"
Millie nodded her agreement. "It looks terrifying! I’ve never seen anything like it in all the books I've read. I think you’ve discovered something special here, Tom! How did you find it? Your metal detector won't find bone."
Grabbing the little pouch which hung from the belt on his waist, Tom gave it a shake. "Hear that jangling?" he asked. "I found all that gold this morning. Two of the coins were in this hole. That's how I found it."
