The Carlswick Treasure (The Carlswick Mysteries Book 2) Page 4

  “And of course, the villagers were nothing but supportive of the smugglers, often helping them conceal smuggled goods or misleading the Customs men. There is a local legend about the landlady at the Smuggler’s Inn sitting on a beer barrel with her voluminous skirts spread out around her whenever the Customs officers came visiting, because she was hiding the entrance to a tunnel, which ran directly from the harbour to the pub. And of course, there is written evidence that places like the church and the castle were used as drop off points for messages about shipping.”

  Stephanie smiled at the image of a buxom barmaid. “Is there a rough date for the trunk that our great-grandfathers found?” she asked.

  The woman turned and ran her hand lightly over the over trunk. “See these markings here?” she said, pointing to a small crest engraved into the lid. “This indicates that it belonged to the Tyrell family, who were major landowners around the Hastings area. A son, William Tyrell, is recorded as having been a passenger on a ship that was smashed onto a sandbar during a storm in 1805. However, records show that when the ship was salvaged its hold was full of smuggled goods. It was never proven whether Tyrell was a smuggler or just an innocent passenger on the ship. The museum has always assumed that the trunk washed ashore from that wreck and was probably in situ in the cave at Calder’s Cliff until it was discovered. Sadly it was empty,” she said.

  Stephanie glanced at James.

  “So were there still smugglers operating around here in 1805?” she asked.

  “Most definitely,” the woman said, nodding. “It really wasn’t until the 1850s that the government abolished many of the duties and taxes and smuggling became less prevalent.”

  James looked at his watch and raised his eyebrows at Stephanie.

  “Thank you so much for your time,” she said to the curator.

  “It’s no trouble. It’s lovely to see young people interested in history.” She gave them a warm smile and walked with them back through the main room of the museum to the entrance foyer. “Here are a couple of pamphlets about shipwrecks and smuggling that you may find interesting. Come back again soon.”

  Stephanie looked at the brochures. One had a gloomy picture of Carlswick Castle and advertised summer evening ghost walks amongst the ruins and dungeons. She shuddered and showed James.

  “I won’t be rushing to do that walk anytime soon—I had enough of being shut in dungeons last summer,” she said. James slipped his arm around her waist as they walked, and bent his head to capture her lips for a kiss.

  “Don’t think about that,” he said.

  Chapter 8

  1am, Tuesday 20th December

  Stephanie screamed and sat up in bed, looking at her surroundings, terrified. Her heart was racing and she was struggling for breath. She forced herself to breathe deeply, trying to calm down. Her bedroom door opened and her grandmother switched on the light. The room was instantly bathed in a bright glow as Ellie took in the sight of Stephanie sitting amongst her tangled sheets, her hair hanging in sweat drenched clumps.

  “Oh, sweetheart,” she said rushing over to the bed and taking a still dazed Stephanie in her arms. “Bad dreams again?”

  Stephanie nodded and clung onto her grandmother as she finally pulled herself out of the nightmare and woke fully. “I thought I was through it,” she mumbled.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Ellie asked.

  Stephanie shook her head. “It’s just the same as before, locked in a dark room and knowing that there is something terrifying in there with me and not being able to see it or get out.”

  “How often is this happening? You don’t need to be having broken sleep when you are studying,” Ellie commented.

  “It hasn’t happened recently. I think it must be coming back to Carlswick that triggered it,” Stephanie mused, and then seeing the look of sadness pass over her grandmother’s face she quickly added, “but hopefully that’s the last—because I have more great memories here than bad.”

  “Tea?” Ellie offered.

  “No thanks, I think I’ll just try to get back to sleep,” Stephanie said, lying back down.

  “Alright, but I’m just through the wall if you need me,” Ellie said, standing up and smoothing Stephanie’s hair away from her face, cupping her cheek momentarily, before shuffling back to her own bedroom.

  Stephanie lay awake for a long time. The residue of the dream still hung with her, shadowy edges, whispered voices, something inhuman. She shivered and wrapped herself more tightly in the duvet. She hadn’t allowed herself to give being trapped in the cellar much thought, but her subconscious was clearly still considering it.

  An hour later Stephanie was still awake. Her mind drifted to the things she had learned that afternoon at the museum. Sleep was proving to be elusive, so she pulled her fluffy blue dressing gown around her and swung her legs over the side of the bed and into her Ugg boots, and crept downstairs to make a hot drink. She paused as she passed the sitting room, her eyes alighting on the photos displayed across the top of the piano.

  Instead of continuing down the hallway to the kitchen she slipped into the sitting room and quietly closed the door, switching on the tall lamp beside the piano. The baubles on the Christmas tree in the corner shone in the reflected light. She picked up the nearest photo, an old black and white Wakefield family portrait. She tried to recall who some of the people were from her conversation with her grandmother, but she was too tired to remember.

  “I guess I never did finish checking these,” she murmured, gathering several of the older photos and curling up in an armchair near to the fireplace. There was a little heat being thrown into the room from the previous night’s embers. She carefully removed the backing from the Wakefield portrait but there was nothing hidden beneath the photo. She replaced the card and set the frame aside.

  “I wonder if there are any of just David and Ellie, if indeed they are the remaining two?” she said aloud.

  She sorted through the pile of photos in her lap and found one with Ellie and David, taken in the 1950s, judging by their clothing and hairstyles. She carefully slipped the photo out of the frame, but as she lifted it up to study it further, something fell from inside the backing cardboard. Stephanie picked it up, a slow smile spreading across her face. It was heavy, canvas-like. She unfolded it and gasped. It was a hand drawn map. Or rather, half a hand drawn map, for one long edge was frayed and torn with symbols truncated at the edge. The top left hand corner contained several lines of verse and the remainder of the canvas was covered in hand-drawn characters, lines and arrows.

  “Yes!” she exclaimed aloud, studying the small canvas.

  She placed the other frames back onto the piano, tucked the map into the pocket of her dressing gown and crept back upstairs to her room.

  It was daylight when she woke again. Unsure whether finding the map had been a dream she reached for her dressing gown discarded on the end of the bed, and felt a wave of excitement as her hand touched the cool rough surface of the canvas, tucked into the pocket. Her mobile phone was charging on the table beside her bed. She grabbed it and called Michael.

  “You’ll never guess what I’ve found.”

  Michael arrived twenty minutes later, hair sticking up and his brown woollen sweater on backwards. Stephanie pretended not to notice. By contrast, her hair was pulled into a knot on top of her head, her make up carefully applied and she was dressed in skinny jeans and a burgundy merino jersey, ready for her trip to London.

  “It’s quiet here,” he said, taking a seat at the kitchen table and accepting the steaming coffee that Stephanie handed to him.

  “It’s Grandma’s bridge club Christmas party this morning. She was gone before I got up,” she replied.

  Michael nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “So,” he prompted.

  Stephanie pulled the canvas from the back pocket of her jeans with a flourish.

  Together, they poured over the map, trying to understand what it meant, particularly a handwritten poem i
n faded black ink in one corner;

  A Man must stand by his Master

  When once he has pledged his word

  Brandy for the Parson,

  Laces for a lady,

  Letter for a spy

  “I don’t freakin’ believe it,” Michael said. “What on earth does that mean?”

  Chapter 9

  Afternoon, Tuesday 20th December

  Stephanie looked around at the hotel room with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. James strode past her and deposited his bag and guitar case on the small couch under the window.

  “This is good,” he commented. “Much nicer than where we normally stay.”

  “Mmm…” Stephanie murmured in agreement, still not moving.

  James strode over to her and gently took her overnight bag from her hand. “It’s okay, Steph, there’s no pressure here.”

  “No, no. It’s not that,” she reassured him. “Just feels a little odd. Are you sure that the others don’t mind me being here? I don’t want to be in the way.”

  James gathered her into his arms. “You will not be in the way. I want you to be here. I want to share this with you. Once the show is over tonight, we can either party with the others or grab a late dinner, just the two of us. Whatever you feel like.”

  Stephanie exhaled. “Okay.” She reached up and cupped his face with her hands and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, before combing her fingers through his hair and pulling him into a deeper kiss.

  “Or I could just say stuff sound check and stay here,” James said.

  Stephanie’s mobile chose that moment to ring, with the ‘I fought the law and the law won’ ring tone that she had facetiously chosen for her father’s calls.

  “Leave it,” James murmured.

  “It’s Dad—I’d better get it,” she replied, pulling away and reaching into her bag.

  “Dad—this better be good,” she said by way of greeting.

  “I think you will find that the surprise I have for you is better than good. How quickly can you get over to mine? You’re at Anna’s, right?”

  “Something like that. Do you really mean now, as in right now?” she replied, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. James slipped his arms back around her, pulling her close and dipped his head, kissing her neck.

  “Yes,” Max replied.

  Stephanie hesitated and sighed. “Okay. On my way. This had better be good.”

  “Perfect. See you soon,” he said, ending the call.

  James raised an eyebrow questioningly.

  “I have to go to Dad’s right away—he has a surprise for me that apparently can’t wait,” she replied. “Sorry.”

  “'S’okay,” James said, pulling her in for another kiss. “Two whole days, remember.”

  “Do you want to come with me?” she asked.

  “No—if I’m not able to have my wicked way with you, then I might as well go to the sound check,” he replied.

  “So, shall I meet you back here before the show?” she asked, as she picked up her coat.

  “Yeah, text me when you’re done,” he said, kissing her once more.

  * * *

  Stephanie turned her key in the front door of the white brick Georgian building where her father lived in Chelsea and climbed the wide staircase to the first floor. The sound of familiar laughter coming from his apartment made her pause momentarily. Using a second key to let herself into the apartment, she called out hello from the entrance foyer. She hung her coat on a coat hook mounted on the wall and dumped her handbag on the low bench beneath.

  “In here, Steph,” her father called from the kitchen.

  Stephanie pushed open the kitchen door and was immediately tackled around the waist by a four-year-old whirlwind, who came flying across the room. She gasped and looked up at her mother who was leaning against the breakfast bar, coffee cup in hand.

  “Holy crap, Toby. Mum. What are you doing here?” she exclaimed.

  “We thought we’d surprise you for Christmas, darling,” her mother replied.

  “Are you surprised, Stephie?” Toby said, clinging to her as he leaned back to look up into her face.

  Stephanie bent down and put her hands under his arms and scooped him up, resting him on her hip. “So surprised—I had no idea,” she said, looking from one parent to another. “Did you two cook this up?”

  “I thought that it would be good for you to see them, Steph. It’s been a crazy few months,” Max replied.

  “Jeez—you’ve gotten so big,” she told Toby, setting him back down on his feet and throwing her arms around her mother. “How long are you here for?”

  “Two weeks,” Marie replied.

  “Fantastic. Are you staying here?” she asked. “Is Peter with you?”

  “No. He had to stay in New Zealand for work,” Marie replied.

  “Of course they are staying here,” Max said. “And they’re spending Christmas with us down in Carlswick. Now, I have to get back to the office for a couple of hours, but I have booked us a table at Jamie’s Italian in Covent Garden for seven pm. That won’t be too late for Toby, will it?”

  “It’ll be fine, Max. He can have a nap now, while Stephanie and I catch up on everything,” Marie said, continuing to hold onto her daughter.

  “Does that work for you, Steph?” Max asked, running a hand through his short hair, dark brown like Stephanie’s once, but now showing a sprinkling of grey at his temples. “Ah, well, I was going to see The Fury tonight. But I can always do that tomorrow night,” she said. “James will be disappointed, but it isn’t every day that my mother and little brother arrive in London. He will understand.”

  “Right. I will see you later, then,” Max said as he pulled a navy overcoat on over his pinstriped suit and reached for his briefcase resting on the floor beside the door. “Please make yourself at home, Marie.” He gave her an awkward kiss on the cheek. Stephanie could have sworn that her mother blushed, but the view was obstructed by Max kissing her own cheek.

  “Laters, Dad,” she said. “Good surprise.”

  Marie kept her arm around Stephanie as they walked into the lounge and sat down on the black leather sofas. Mother and daughter were very alike in looks apart from their obvious age difference. Both had been blessed with curves and long straight dark hair framing their pretty faces. Toby hung onto Stephanie’s hand and crawled into her lap the moment she sat down. “How does it feel to be back in London, Mum?” Stephanie asked as she played with his light brown curls.

  “Cold,” Marie replied laughing. “More importantly, how are you enjoying England?”

  “I’m loving it. Even the cold,” Stephanie said. “Although Carlswick is beginning to feel like my English home, I still just love London particularly the art and the history. It feels like the sort of place where you can reinvent yourself, be braver or more confident,” Stephanie said. “Can you get all of that from a city?”

  Marie nodded. “Perhaps. I know I felt something similar myself once. It’s a city that gets under your skin.”

  ***

  “James, I have good news and bad news, which do you want first?” Stephanie said into her phone a little while later, while her mother showered and Toby took a nap.

  “The good news, I think,” James replied.

  “My mother and little brother have arrived for Christmas.”

  “Fantastic, Steph. Which means the bad news is that our little hotel stay is off?”

  “’Fraid so. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay—we can do it another time.”

  Stephanie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, James.”

  “Of course. It wasn’t a one-time offer,” he said.

  “It seems to be getting harder to spend any time together alone. We seem to be thwarted at every turn,” she said.

  “I know, but we’ll figure something out.”

  “Are you at the hotel now? I should drop by and collect my bag.”

  “No, but I will be in around half an hour.”

>   “Ok—see you then.”

  Chapter 10

  Evening, Tuesday 20th December

  Carrie smoothed her hands down over her black leather mini skirt and peered at herself in the mirror as she fluffed her short dark hair. She looked good and she knew it. A cubicle door banged behind her and another girl came to stand at the row of stainless steel basins and wash her hands. In the mirror, Carrie could see her eyes run jealously over Carrie’s outfit—the short skirt and low cut red crop top, hugging her tiny frame and accentuating her large breasts. Her long legs were tucked into knee-high, black stiletto-heeled boots. She smiled to herself as she reapplied her eyeliner and lipstick. Now to the job at hand; she checked her purse for the little packet of powder that her friend had given her. It seemed a shame to do things this way, it would have been more fun to seduce him the old fashioned way, but she was being well paid.

  She pushed the door of the bathroom open and what had been just the dull thump of the bass drum in the bathroom suddenly became a wall of sound as she re-entered the club. The only light in the room came from the stage, which was lit in a myriad of sporadic flashing colours revolving to the beat of the music. The dance floor was dark with a mass of heaving, dancing bodies. The lead singer of The Fury had just announced their last number. Time to get to work.

  Carrie pushed her way through the crowd until she was at the front of the stage. Ignoring the slightly lecherous looks from a number of guys and hostile looks from several girls, she positioned herself below and just to the left of where Liam, the lead singer, was hanging onto the microphone stand and leaning towards the crowd. If her information was correct, he usually selected several girls to join them backstage after the last song. She swayed in time to the music and fixed her gaze on him. Halfway through the song, he crouched down, ran his hand through his red-tipped hair and stared directly into her eyes, singing the last lines of the chorus just to her. As the song finished, he winked at her and inclined his head towards a door at the side of the stage. She smiled and started moving through the crowd.