He had begged her to come and Jason never begged.
The turning looked like no more than a laneway. Only the fact it had road markings – at least at the beginning – betrayed it. There was a sign, but foliage obscured it. The road, such as it was, dipped down and turned, revealing the village in the distance.
She could make out the spire of the chapel, rising through the stunted trees which managed to dig into the earth here, a little further inland. And beyond that Sainte Sirène, nestled by the sea, cliffs jutting up on either side to protect it, while the headland known as Castelmeur stretched out, shielding it all from the wildest the Atlantic had to offer. There was an ancient chapel, a graveyard, a crêperie, a bakery which only opened until midday and abar-tabacwhich doubled as the local shop and just about everything else. In the summer, there was a little museum, filled with local oddities and knick-knacks. And the manor house, the seat of the du Lac family.
You couldn’t see the manor from here. Probably by design. If you were the local lord oh so many years ago, in an area famed for smuggling and dark deeds, a hidden home was probably your greatest asset.
But she wasn’t heading for the manor house. She’d only seen it at a distance anyway.
Simon had, long ago, secured a deal to use one of the gîtes on the estate. Or, rather, on the parcels of land that had been the estate. His family had an in, he’d said, with a half-smile, old favours owed and shared secrets, no doubt. Her brother had followed him. What had been supposed to be an archaeological expedition had quickly transformed into a treasure hunt.
Jason Walker always landed on his feet. He could charm the apples off the trees, her mother used to say, handsome, easy-going, but with a passion that surprised and inspired anyone who met him.
Ari was about the only person immune to him. And even then, she couldn’t always resist. The fact that she was here was proof enough.
She parked next to a jeep that had seen many better days and a somewhat battered red Renault with a canoe strapped to the roof.
Nico’s car hadn’t changed. And probably never would. But it was good to know he was still here too. If anyone could keep Jason in some semblance of check it was Nico. The charm didn’t work on him either.
The whole place looked like some kind of hippy encampment, sprawling out of the cottage and across the grass, a scattering of tents in the garden, equipment in various stages of repair and an elaborate flag – the black and white Breton flag in the middle surrounded by smaller flags of all the Celtic nations – hanging over the doorway. She even spotted the Irish flag on it and wondered if Jason had complained it was too small.
Ari shook her head. There weren’t as many people as she’d expected. Usually, Jason gathered an entourage for his expeditions. From the patches in the grass, it was clear some people had already upped sticks and left. Well, summer was over, after all.
‘There you are!’
Before she knew what was happening, she had been swept up in a pair of strong arms and crushed against her brother’s chest.
It shouldn’t feel this good. It really shouldn’t. He was a pain in the arse and she still hadn’t forgiven him for…well, everything. He smelled of the sea and sweat, with a lingering aroma of surfboard oil which told her immediately it wasn’t all work around here.
But it never was. Not with him.
Ari disentangled herself, hiding her reluctance to do so. She had to be strong, especially when it came to Jason the feckless wonder.
‘So I’m here,’ she told him, and Jason grinned down at her, that goofy grin which never changed at all. ‘Where’s this amazing find of yours?’
He shrugged. ‘Oh, that’s in Brest already.’
The world seemed to freeze around her, her stomach plummeting and her head reeling.
‘It’swhat?’ The words came out on a strangled breath and she stepped back from him. She had come all this way for him. He’d begged her to come and see the treasure he claimed to have found, which he had promised was real, was special, was what Simon had always dreamed of, was the very reason they’d followed him out here…and it was already gone?
‘It’s a sixth-century coin, Ari. They weren’t going to let us hang on to it here. Look at the place. It’s hardly secure, is it?’
‘Jason…I was working. It’s the start of term. I had to get someone to cover for me. I took unpaid leave and I—’
She couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t form the words. She pressed her fist to her mouth and fought to make her body inhale again. She was not going to have a panic attack, not here and now, especially not in front of him. She had come all this way, tothisplace…
Jason just carried on like he didn’t even hear her.
‘I have the photos. And the report. And more. Come on. I’ll show you where I found it.’ He held out his hand, just as he always had done when they were kids.
He could have emailed all of that. She could be sitting in her flat reading the details. Safe. Quiet. Not here.
‘And where did you find it?’ she asked coldly, dreading the reply.
‘Where Simon said it would be.’
This wasn’t just about the coin, she realised. She could see that in the glow that spread through her brother, the pride, the wonder, the triumph. Jason was a believer.
