‘Nice—even better than the professor’s porn stash.’
They sighed at the same time and rested their foreheads together. ‘Shall I hit him or will you?’
Ben snorted. ‘I’ll do it. It’s my turn.’
Aleksey left them to it, knowing Ben could easily catch the hastily retreating figure and went on into the library. ‘I do think we should call the police.’
‘We will. What’s that? Have you found something?’ Tim was holding a document, his hand covered by the sleeve of his sweater. ‘They’ll be able to trace you from the fibres in that wool.’
Tim dropped the paper back on the desk. ‘There are lots of sketches of the house.’ He indicated some other scattered parchments on the desk. ‘I was sure I’d found the map, but they’re all just plans of the house.’ He glanced outside. ‘Where are Ben and Michael? It’s getting light. We really should go.’
Aleksey, studying one of the sketches, murmured, ‘Yes. What did you say?’
Tim frowned. ‘Someone might be coming—postman? Milkman? We should go.’
Something the younger man had said had flicked a tiny switch in his brain, a flash of light illuminating something he already knew, but by the time the professor had finished speaking again it was gone. It was as frustrating as an orgasm that just failed to peak.
Ben returned alone, unruffled and smirking. The three of them checked around that they’d left no evidence of their presence and leftChi Lugern Enysas they’d found it: cemented in bitter disappointment, frustrated expectations, and dying slowly, waiting for something that now would never actually happen.
* * *
The moron wasn’t speaking to any of them on the return trip, which was such a blessed relief to the other three that they chatted quite amicably together for the first half hour. Then they left the shelter of the land and emerged once more into the open Atlantic, and the professor retreated beneath his personal tent, this time pulling it right up over his head. As Aleksey watched this, he kept scratching at the connection he’d almost made in the library, but the more he consciously tried to recall it, the more other, irrelevant, thoughts intruded. He’d had the experience once or twice recently of finding himself in a room in their glass house, having gone there for a purpose (he assumed), but then having no idea what the reason for his visit was. He’d just stood there, bemused and frustrated.
Ben was casting regretful glances back at the coast, obviously just as cold as his friend. ‘Pity the Tamar doesn’t get as far as the north coast, isn’t it? Then it would be quicker to go that way and just go home.’
A muffled voice emerged from the blanket. ‘Isambard Kingdom Brunel drew up plans to dig a canal from its source at Woolley Moor, north to Hartland Quay. Cut Cornwall off entirely. It was only three miles, which isn’t much for a canal.’
‘Hartland Quay?’
Tim peered out of his shelter. ‘It’s on the—’
‘I know where it is.’ All things were connected. He slid his hand into the back of Ben’s waistband, stroking the warm skin he found there, as he considered this new twist in the complicated spiral of his life. Commodore Henry Staveley-Bathurst had left for his incredible voyage from Hartland Quay. He and Ben had sat there together in the sun and read a son’s memorial to a father he’d adored but believed lost to the sea.Now, Harry was here, alive, and living on Light Island, and Squeezy, their own personal moron, was his son. Hartland had been where the plague victims had arrived on English soil to march to Totnes and, most importantly, it was theland of the heart, as he had told Ben, who was the beating core of his being. Names had meaning.
He froze. Ben turned his head enquiringly when the stroking stopped.
Names had meanings.
Who better to know this than he?
His elusive insight had finally stepped into the light—literally. He knew why he’d come into the room.Enys a’n Lugern—island of light. Morwenna had told him in her wry suggestion for Harry’s new boat. And the ruinous house on the cliff top wasChi Lugern Enys—Light Island House.
He cupped his hands around Ben’s cold cheeks and declared in an urgent whisper, ‘I know where the treasure is, Ben. It’s not on theNicholas. Never has been since Barebone mutinied.It’s on our island! That house was calledChi Lugern Enys. It means Light Island House. That was the part of the puzzle the Frobishers must always have known—that it was on La Luz in Scilly. And each father passed down the exact location on the island to the son.’
Ben took his hands away and tucked them inside his jacket to warm them for him. ‘Squeezy said expectations, disappointment, didn’t he? Fuck, imagine knowing it was there on La Luz, but not being able to get to it or find it. I bet they did—try to find it over the years.’ His eyes suddenly went wide. ‘Oh, my God, remember what Squeezy told us about Sharpie being arrested for trespassing on royal estates! I pictured Windsor or Sandringham, but I bet it was the island. I guess with no clue at all where would you even start?’
Aleksey gripped Ben’s ribs. ‘But wedohave a clue! Because it’s started to wash up on the beach—that’s why we thought Oasis Rock, because of the currents from the west. But what’s even closer due west of Revival Sands?Reallyclose?’ He grinned at Ben’s look of dawning comprehension. ‘Yes—the sea caves. It’s right there, Ben, in one of our caves, and it’s been jolted loose by one of Harry’s seismic things. It could even be in the lighthouse cavern. Remember? The current swept Billy’s boat—’
‘—the arch! Oh, my, God, Nik!’ Ben was grinning, his teeth a flash of white in the darkness. ‘Not anearthquakebut the sea arch collapsing. That’s what’s shaken it loose and—’
‘—and Radulf has started to find it.’
‘You can’t see the cave from the sea.’
‘No, I know. It’s a perfect hiding place—up on a shelf, like the one the steps come out on. High and dry.’
‘Why would Sharpie’s feet wash up though?’
‘Maybe it’s in a smaller cave, and he got caught by the tide and drowned?’
