Wreckers Island
Page 25
‘We owe so much to him,’ said Dan. ‘We should never forget whose fortune it once belonged to.’
Emma saw pain and sadness cross his face. ‘I’m sorry Dan, I didn’t mean to be flippant. But you know something,’ she said, as she walked over to the large windows and looked wistfully out, ‘I think he would have been happy if he’d known the way things had turned out, 230 years on. That his wonderful riches would be bought by a museum for people to marvel at and the proceeds passed to folk like you and me, John and Louise to give us such a good start in life.
‘Surely that is a better fate than that it get lost in the sand at the bottom of the sea, no use to anyone or worse, end up in the grasping hands of oafs like Zak and Jake.’
‘I felt an attachment to Captain Felipe you know,’ said Dan. ‘I felt a bond to him. That’s why, when I realised I had left his precious diary all by itself on the rocky shelf in the cavern I couldn’t bear it and had to go back for it. Mind you, that’s what brought all this trouble upon us, bumping into Zak and Jake again of course.’
‘I think you could argue that Louise brought it all upon us, with her loud-mouthed behaviour in the pub the night we found the treasure,’ pointed out Emma gently. ‘But then, taking the story back to its beginning, it was she who brought us to Cornwall to spend the holiday with her at her family’s lighthouse on Wreckers Island knowing we couldn’t afford one otherwise. Without her none of this amazing adventure would have happened or the treasure discovered.’
‘And what’s more,’ said Dan, drawing Emma tightly to him, ‘it brought us together and who knows if we would have ever found each other back at university? We’re both quite shy people, after all.’
‘Yes, and you cutting your finger on that kitchen knife played a crucial role too,’ Emma reminded him. ‘I still think you did that on purpose.’
‘No, I am much too chicken to do something like that on purpose,’ said Dan, laughing. ‘I’m quite pleased it happened though. Sometimes don’t you just think that things are meant to be?’
‘We are meant to be, wonderful Dan,’ said Emma, gazing into his eyes. ‘Now, shall I start running the bath and take the champagne through while you ring John and Louise?’
Dan had barely dialled John’s mobile before he answered. ‘Hello,’ he said, sounding gruff and tense.
‘John, it’s me,’ said Dan. ‘I hope you’ve got some beer left because you’re going to need something to celebrate with.’
Emma smiled as she overheard Dan’s breathless account down the phone. What a relieved, joyful couple there would now be in a little cove on the seashore looking out at the lighthouse on Wreckers Island. How she had agonised about what to do for the best that afternoon. How it had tormented her. Not confessing to the police had been the most difficult decision of her life, but the right one.
Dan came into the bathroom, chuckling. ‘John and Emma are thrilled and they still have one bottle of beer left which they are opening as I speak,’ said Dan. ‘They are absolutely speechless. And they hope we have a really, really lovely night in our posh hotel and they look forward to seeing us tomorrow.’
‘Hey are they just a bit jealous that we’re in luxury digs and they’re shivering in a beach tent?’ enquired Emma, mischievously.
‘Yes,’ said Dan, ‘but John points out that at least their sleeping quarters comes with a sea view.’
Emma laughed and her eyes shone like Dan had never quite seen them before. He knew that she was content at last, and at peace with herself. They both stripped off and jumped into the hot, luxuriously swirling water of the jacuzzi. Dan reached for the champagne bottle and refilled their glasses.
‘I would like to propose another toast,’ he said. ‘To Captain Felipe and all the crew of the Providencia tragically lost off the Cornish coast in 1780. We must never forget the debt of gratitude we owe them.’
Emma raised her glass. ‘To Captain Felipe and his crew,’ she repeated. ‘And I have one final toast – to us! May we always be together.’
Dan beamed with happiness. ‘I’ll drink to that,’ he said.