However, this theory of Morwenna’s father about the possible location of a lost ancient civilisation did not come as a complete surprise to Aleksey. He seemed to recall he had dropped it into a conversation with the professor on their first walk across the causeway to Benhar, partially to confuse and confound with utter bullshit any genuine erudition from the smaller man, but mainly to come to Ben’s defence about the sea level rise. He was allowed to mock Ben’s odd thought processes, but no one else was. Now he realised that, uncharacteristically, he hadn’t just made up a pile of crap on the spur of the moment but might have taken more from one of this amateur historian’s books on Scilly than he’d planned, given he rarely made it past the cover of most of the books he pretended to read. Although it was possible, he now concluded, idly watching Ben’s deep frown, that as a young man in Russia he’d actually read Randal Eames’s banned book on giants, gods and floods, and that the theory, given his Viking heritage (and possibly his height), had struck him forcibly.
Ben was drinking more wine, drawing with his finger on the table, plainly reluctant to continue with his theory. But showing traits of stubbornness that reminded Aleksey of the baby tyrant, Ben apparently decided to expand on his point. ‘On the statues they showed in this documentary, these really tall men were all carrying exactly the same little bags, offering them to the tribes they came to, andthat’sthe alien technology.’ He tapped his bracelets. ‘And they all wore these—exactlythe same pattern in each one, right across the world. Those were their communicators.’
The woman’s eyebrows really couldn’t go any higher, but they did their best, stretching bravely. ‘To—what, contact their spaceships…?’
Ben nodded knowingly. ‘Exactly.’
No one heard his snort, which he covered with a cough. Morwenna also took some more wine, appearing to mull this suggestion over seriously. Finally, she concluded morosely, ‘Perhaps Dad should have put aliens in his book then. I guess being laughed at is better than being cancelled. It was complete academic exile for him—even though he believed the proof existed and he could find it. He set Jerome on the task of researching its location, and then six months later he was asked to be the keynote speaker at a conference in Gothenburg.Turehuand the Celtic Revival. Barthrop had organised it for him. And it seemed right up Dad’s street. He was going to talk about the Maori legend of the Turehu, these red-haired, green-eyed Celtic folk the Maori allegedly found in New Zealand when they arrived. The Turehu had erected standing stones, which were sophisticated solar observatories, almost identical to ones found in Ireland—same spiral markings on them. They built walls of giant megalithic blocks which defy our building techniques today. But when he got to the conference, he found himself on the stage with these neo-Nazi types, all runes and tattoos and spouting a pile of complete nonsense, as far as he was concerned. But guilt by association. He never lived it down. He was so old-school, so naive, just pottering around writing his books, a minnow in a pool of sharks. He was the loveliest man you could ever wish to meet.’ She appeared to sink into gloomy reminiscences after this.
‘What was the proof your dad was trying to find? Because there are alien ships buried deep in the ice in the Antarctic. That’s why all scientific explorations there are banned—they’d find the proof of the aliens.’
Aleksey put on his interested expression at Ben’s enthusiasm. Eames was frowning deeply already, but her face managed an even deeper scrunch of confusion, which was impressive.
‘I think it was a ship, yes—but not from space. Sorry. I was kinda distracted while all this was going on—had my own issues, and poor Dad and his flood theories weren’t high on my list of priorities.’
Patently disappointed, Ben got up, clearing their plates. As he picked his up their fingers brushed. It was only a tiny touch, but had they not had a visitor, it would have sparked a conflagration of need between them. He slowly raised his eyes from the table, sweeping his gaze provocatively up Ben’s body until they were staring into each other’s eyes. In the candlelight which bathed the room, Ben’s face was all sharp angles and defined lines of cheek and jaw. Ben grazed the tip of his finger all along the back of his hand, just to let him know he was thinking the same thing.
Waiting for Ben to return with some pudding, he and Morwenna sat together at the large table in easy companionship. Aleksey leaned forward and offered to top up her glass and she accepted. ‘Just as well I’m not driving.’
‘Rather a benefit of living on Scilly.’
‘It is. Although we have a huge number of bicycle-related accidents.’
‘I am half-Danish. This does not surprise me.’
They smiled at each other then abruptly her entire expression changed and she glanced behind furtively. When she turned back, apparently having reassured herself they were alone, she whispered, ‘I wanted to show you something.’ Aleksey laughed suddenly, and she hesitated. ‘What?’
‘No. Sorry. I was just remembering other such offers at other dinners I have attended. What?’
She ducked beneath the table and pulled up the small rucksack, which she’d been using as a handbag all day. Unzipping it and rummaging, and checking once more they were alone, she laid Molly’s two chocolate coins on the table, the ones which had been offered in part payment for her latest stash of books. Eames pushed them over with one finger, watching his expression. He cocked his head to one side, considering what he now saw clearly wasn’t gold foil at all—or chocolate, come to that.
He gingerly picked up one of the metal coins, rubbed his thumb on it then did the same with the other. They were each about the size of the base of his wineglass, rough, slightly wavy and lumpy. He looked up, and she nodded grimly.
‘They’re real, aren’t they?’ Picking up his knife, he tried to scratch some gold paint away. ‘I tried that.’
‘This is what Molly gave you for her books?’
‘Yes, along with her usual pebbles and shells and stuff. I just put it all on the shelf. A few people came in during the afternoon, I guess because I was one of the few shops open, and I got quite busy. Then that evening I remembered I’d better have a sort out—keep the shells maybe, chuck the sticky chocolate—and I knew as soon as I picked them up. Do you have gold just lying around? Seriously? I don’t think I’m even joking. But to buy an island, I mean, you must be extremely—and wanting an island in the first place, remote—a bolt hole?’ She suddenly grinned. ‘Have I just uncovered an international money-laundering operation for Russian billionaires? That man who looked like you—that killer with the scar—is this connected to that? Shit, have you lured me here today for nefarious purposes?’
‘He didn’t look anything like me.’
‘Who didn’t?’ Aleksey slid the gold under his mat as Ben sat down again putting a plate of Danish pastries down in the middle of the table. ‘Sorry, they’re just shop-bought, but—’
‘Fantastic bakery in Tre Huw, I know.’ Morwenna grinned, helped herself, and the conversation drifted to a discussion between them about the benefits of living on Scilly. Aleksey listened and felt the gold coins burning his hand through the mat.
When Ben left again to bring in some coffee and chocolates, he pocketed the coins, and as he did so asked the woman, ‘Did you mention this to anyone else?’
She shook her head. ‘No, as I told you, it was the evening by the time I realised what they were. I mean, I showed them to Mark. He wanted to take them back to the university to get them looked at. I didn’t expressly tell him not to mention it to anyone…should I have? Obviously, I couldn’t keep them. I wondered if they were Molly’s mother’s jewellery or something and she’d raided it. Mark didn’t think they were coins, you see, more like ornaments.’
He was tempted to say that Ben’s daughter preferred stealing bio-weapons but asked instead, ‘He’s gone back now?’
‘Back home to Kelly Bray, yes. He’s got another week before the term starts.’
‘You know him well?’
She chuckled. ‘I’m his godmother. I’ve never been sure what that entails. Easier when he was just a little boy—lots of nice presents. Now I just keep in touch over our shared interests, I suppose.’
‘He’s never been married?’
