by Amy Shaw
Abby sat in silence, her eyes welling up. She opened her mouth to speak but her brain shut down and she just sighed.
Mark continued. "This was for your eyes only. Not your Mum's, she has her passion. Not your Dads and certainly not your hair brained relatives who only care about themselves and money. This is for you because I think your Grandpa believed in you and thought this might stir something inside you. So yes, it's your decision Abby."
It was too much. Abby began to cry. Mark immediately stepped forward and leaned into her putting his arms around her body and his hand up to cradle her head. She put her arm around his waist and held it there and absorbed the moment.
"Do you really think that coin is worth as much as the lighthouse?" she softly asked, pulling away and looking into his deep soulful brown eyes.
"I'm not sure, but it could be close."
"I thought we'd need a whole bag of them, I've never heard of a single coin being worth more than a thousand or so."
Mark shook his head slowly. "This coin is not like other coins. It's an Edward III Gold Double Florin. Mega rare. Known as a Double Leopard, it was issued in 1343."
Mark put the writing book back down on the desk and picked up the gold coin. Looking at it pinched between his finger and thumb, he said, "There are only two others known and both of those are in the British Museum. I could imagine a few people wanting to get their hands on this."
"What do you think it's worth?"
"Hard to say for sure. Maybe somewhere in the region of three hundred thousand. Maybe three fifty."
"Dollars?"
"Pounds."
"You're kidding? For one coin."
"What's the guide price on this place?"
"Four hundred thousand pounds."
"Have there been any interested parties that you know of?"
"A few. Mainly locals. But it doesn't matter because I can just tell my Mom to pull the listing. If you think we should sell the coin, she can use the money from that and I get to keep the lighthouse."
"Yes that's true." Mark thought for a moment. "Tell me about your Mum's brothers and sisters. If they found out what was in here, and your Grandpas secrets, would they try and contest the will?"
"What, you mean if they found out Grandpa left Mom a lighthouse which contained a four hundred thousand dollar coin?"
"Pounds. Four hundred thousand pound coin."
"That's like six, or seven hundred thousand dollars then? Yeah, they'd go crazy."
"Not to mention what's in the safes."
"Oh my goodness. What is in the safes?" Abby asked, her eyes widening.
"Probably best you didn't know at this stage."
"I don't get why we can't just stop the sale and transfer the lighthouse into my name and sell the coin and transfer the money to mom."
"Because of your uncles and aunts. They might be watching the auction and will see that it's been cancelled."
Abby nodded, "Then they'll assume Mom wanted to keep it after all."
"Yes, and then they'll see that not only has your Mum not lost her rescue center, but that she somehow managed to have a new rehabilitation room built. They might just get curious and wonder if anything of value was in this lighthouse that they didn't know about."
"And if it's in my Mom's name, or even mine, they could come and surprise visit anytime I guess."
"Right. So better to let the sale go ahead and buy it back under a different name. Keep it separate. Keep it hidden."
"Okay. But doesn't my Mom need to be on the paperwork."
"Not your mum. You."
"Me?"
"Sure. You could sell all of this, the lighthouse and the coin and take all the money back with you. Or you could use the coin to buy the lighthouse, send money to your mum and you get to keep the lighthouse. It's all your decision remember. Keep it only if you feel a sense of calling or if you want to come back to England for a holiday. You fancy another drink?"
"I fancy some air."
As they got up to leave the underground room, Abby stopped and looked back at the row of metal detectors that belonged to her Grandpa.
"Will you show me how to use one of them?"
"Sure," said Mark, picking one up and checking for batteries. "This one was his favorite beach machine. It's good for ignoring small pieces of aluminum foil."
"And the coin? What are we going to do about that?"
"We need to find out if it is worth the guide price of this place, and if we can find a buyer. It's time you met someone."
9
Mr Lyons
Abby watched as Mark turned off the tunnel light and closed the inner closet door. Clicking the hook back up into place and securing the lock tight, the secret door was once again an invisible part of the closet.
Abby unbolted and opened the lighthouse front door, closing her eyes as she held her face towards the warm sunshine. As they made their way across the gravel towards the cottage, car engines could be heard struggling their way up the steep lane leading to the lighthouse. Mark turned to face the gates in anticipation.
"You expecting company?" he asked keeping his stare dead ahead.
"No," replied Abby looking towards the gate. "Could be the estate agents."
"Don't they make appointments?"
"No, they are under instruction to show anyone here at any time they can between 9am and 9pm."
A dirty, mudded up Land Rover came into view with the 'Fargo & Pitt' livery down the doors. The estate agent gave a wave at Abby and pulled up in front of the lighthouse, followed closely behind by a Ford Mondeo. Two men got out.
"I don't believe it," Abby whispered to herself.
"Friends of yours?" asked Mark.
"Not exactly."
The estate agent led the men over.
"Abby sweet!" a sweaty overweight man bellowed, his shirt buttons looking at breaking point.
"Hi Uncle Bradley! What are you doing here?" Abby warmly greeted as Bradley kissed her on the cheek.
"Hello precious, this is my business partner John. We were looking for premises in London for a restaurant and when John suggested something completely different - Devonshire - I thought this would make the perfect place," Bradley explained.
"This is Mark, one of Grandpa's friends who is helping me clear up," Abby said. Mark and Brad just nodded at each other, not uttering a word. "I didn't know you were over in the UK, are you here for long?" Abby asked.
"Could be, could be. John is helping with my visa so when we start employing staff for the restaurant then I can be here on a full time work visa. When are you going back?" he asked.
"I'm only here for a few days, I'm going back this Friday."
"Oh that's a shame," Bradley said. "If you were staying you could work for me when we turn it into a restaurant. You'd look nice in an apron," he said in a condescending tone.
Abby just smiled.
"Well don't let me get in your way of cleaning," Bradley said as he turned to the estate agent. "Let's have a look at this joint then."
Once the estate agent had the men inside the cottage, Mark muttered, "Nice man" in a sarcastic tone under his breath.
"He's a prick," Abby openly said, not caring if she was heard.
"Is he serious? They've come here to look with intent to buy?"
Abby shrugged her shoulders. "I have no idea. He's probably got the money, but he's the last person my Grandpa would want buying his lighthouse."
Mark looked at her with a frown on his face. "I need to make a call."
***
"Where are we heading?" Abby asked watching out of the side window as the sun was starting to set over the vast hills of Dartmoor. The black Jaguar purred it's way along the A38 dual carriageway towards the city of Exeter.
"We're heading to our meeting point, Wolford Chapel," Mark answered watching the road for deer.
"You meet in a church?" Abby asked surprised.
"It's a special little church. It's actually owned by the Canadian province of Ontario
so technically the police have no jurisdiction should we be seen handling certain objects we shouldn't be seen handling."
Mark came off the slipway at the small market town of Honiton and headed into the darkness of the countryside. The small chapel was hidden from road view, just before the village of Dunkeswell. The wide tires of the Jaguar crunched over the loose stones on the track way. The flag of Canada flapped overhead making no noise above the wind.
"Does anyone else come here?" asked Abby as she followed Mark to the stone Chapel noticing the lights on inside.
"Sure, it's open to anyone. But that's what's great about here. The deed of the chapel has a permanent right of way allowing the public access at any time, but hardly anyone comes here. It's as private as private."
Mark twisted the large metal door handle and pushed the heavy door open. A man was sat down on the front pew, his back to the entrance. Mark closed the door behind stepping into the entrance foyer, the heel of his boots echoing throughout the high beamed ceiling. Without turning, the man greeted Mark, instantly recognizing his distinctive footsteps.
"Good Evening Mr. Munro." He then stood up and turned to face Mark.
"Good Evening Mr. Lyons," Mark said as they shook hands. "I'd like you to meet the granddaughter of Mr. Hart. Miss Hart."
"How do you do Miss Hart," My Lyons said warmly. "I'm sorry to hear about your Grandfather's passing. He was a wonderful man and our country owes a debt of gratitude to him for his historic research."
Mark and Abby sat next to each other on the front wooden pew as Mr. Lyons stood in front of them.
"Now, you've asked me here quite urgently Mr. Munro, what is it I can help you with?" asked Mr. Lyons getting straight down to business.
"I need to raise some funds," Mark said reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small plastic bag with the coin in. "Quickly."
Mr. Lyons stepped forward, squinting his eyes as he looked at the coin. "That isn't what I think it is... is it?" Mr. Lyons asked taking the coin from Mark and examining it closely. "A Double Leopard? Really Mr. Munro? This might generate some news."
"Well, that's why I come to you Mr. Lyons. Is there a suitable flea market she can be sailed through?"
"There's not many for this to be frank. London. Spinks. In nine days. Has she come from a good home?"
"Yes, she's clean. It was an honest find by Mr. Hart, all above board."
"Then why need me, you can save yourself a few bob and go direct."
"She wasn't alone. Plus, I'd rather our names not be splashed across any papers or have any awkward questions from any busy bodies. This money is needed for something important and is quite urgent."
"Well I don't see it being a problem. A clean find, I'm sure a buyer at this level will transfer funds well within the twenty eight day period."
"That's what we need. Well within the twenty eight day period, more like ten at most."
"Can't see it being a problem Mr. Munro. My usual ten percent. Money to the usual place?"
"Okay, done. And no, I'll need to set up a new account."
Abby was suddenly concerned, "Excuse me? What's the usual place? You'll need to set up an account?"
"We can no longer use your Grandfather's accounts, can we?" Mark answered.
"And the new account?" Abby asked. "Who does that belong to?"
Mark put his hand on hers and calmly said, "It's okay, it will belong to us, we just haven't talked about it yet."
"Us?" Abby snapped back, "As in you and Mr. Lyons?"
"No," said Mark reassuringly. "As in me and you. It's okay, I will show you. For now, just trust me."
Abby couldn't hide her worried face. She wanted to trust Mark. So far he knew more about her Grandpa than she did, and if it were not for him showing her the secret room, the coin would still be down there waiting for the next owner to discover.
The next owner she thought. That could be Uncle Brad. No way in hell would she let Uncle Brad take ownership of the lighthouse, her Grandpa would never forgive her.
"What's the state of play?" Mr. Lyons asked. Abby took a hard swallow and nodded her head repeatedly. "Okay... okay."
"Go ahead Mr. Lyons," Mark said in a commanding tone.
"Right you are Mr. Munro," said Mr. Lyons, shaking Mark's hand. "And it's been a pleasure meeting you Miss Hart, I look forward to seeing you again perhaps."
The three of them stood up and nodded to each other before walking to the Chapel's entrance door. In unison Mark and Mr. Lyons each popped a crisp £50 note into the wooden donation box on the wall, turned out the lights and closed the large door behind them.
As Abby got back into the car, she was silent and put on her seatbelt in a slow, thoughtful manner.
"Are you alright?" Mark asked as he turned onto the dark lane.
"What just happened there?" she asked. Before Mark could speak, she answered herself. "I just let you hand over my Grandpa's coin to some old guy in a suit, a coin you say might be worth three hundred thousand, that he's going to sell and put the money into some bank account that supposedly has my name on it? Like you're doing all this to help me. Oh shit, what have I just done?"
"Abby...," Mark tried to answer but Abby kept going.
"Is any of this true? Have you just stolen my Grandpa's coin? Are you and Mr. Lyons working together? Is that why you call each other by surnames only? He's too old to be wearing a suit, is that supposed to make him look respectable?"
"Abby, will you hang on a sec and I'll..."
"I can't believe I fell for you."
"Fell for me?"
"Fell for this. Your sting. My Grandpa was probably watching you as part of an investigation, and when you called that night I shouldn't have told you he died. That's why you came rushing over, you saw your opportunity, you somehow knew about the coin, the room. You used me to get you into the lighthouse to save you breaking in, but I bet you would have broken-."
"Abby stop it!" Mark yelled. "Are you losing your mind?"
Mark pulled the car over into a gated entrance to a woods. "I did warn you this would seem strange, and I also warned you that Mr. Lyons doesn't say a lot," Mark said in a soft voice. Feeling Abby's distress he reached over and held her hand to comfort her. "Your Grandpa trusted Mr. Lyons as do I. He has never let us down. This is a complicated situation and Mr. Lyons helps us move things."
"Why him?"
"Because he has some important connections, the most important was your Grandpa. They did each other favors and helped each other on projects. Then I became the front man for your Grandpa and met Mr. Lyons at the chapel. Always at the chapel. Mr. Lyons had no idea where your Grandpa was based. Nobody does. We use a mailing address in Exeter which forwards mail onto a hotel in Kingsbridge that we pick-up from in person."
"So what happens now?"
"Now, I wait for a text from Mr. Lyons to let me know if the auction house has accepted the coin and what their initial appraisal is. Then we'll know if we have enough to secure the lighthouse and have it go through all the books cleanly. But I think we're going to have a problem with the money."
"Oh here we go, I knew it. I knew it."
"You knew what?"
"That there would be a problem."
"No, it's nothing about you not getting the money. I'm just wondering if it will be enough. There are auction costs, and a fee we pay to My Lyons to handle the sale and act as the finder of the coin."
"The finder?"
"Yes, he owns several farms which are rented out to tenant farmers. It looks better when something is found at one of his farms and moves the spotlight away from us."
"Is that legal? Or ethical? Won't that change how the history of the coin is recorded?"
"Slightly, maybe. But at least there is a coin and at least it is recorded. Some people care down to the inch where something was found, but others are just pleased that it was found. How much was the guide price again?"
"For the lighthouse? Four hundred thousand."
"And what do yo
u think your Mum will take? How much does she need for the dog's home?"
"She was hoping for about six hundred."
"Pounds?" Mark asked in a white heat of panic.
"No, dollars."
"Okay, that's a relief. So yes, that's about... four hundred thousand pounds give or take a few quid."
"Quid? What's a quid?"
"A pound. And I think we're going to need a few more."
"I'm sorry I lost it. I'm glad you're here doing this. Thank you."
Mark looked into Abby's eyes deeply but said nothing. He slid the gear lever into drive and accelerated out of the dusty opening and back down the road.
"It's getting late and you're tired."
"You're right, I am tired," she said as she made herself comfy in the leather seat.
Joining the A30 dual carriageway to Exeter, Mark eased into a steady 90mph as Abby drifted off to sleep. The carriageway was always quiet at this time of night and Mark knew every twist and turn he could drive it blindfolded. But he wasn't used to having a passenger sat next to him. Especially a passenger this attractive. He struggled to keep his wondering eyes on the road ahead, sneaking in glances as he passed under carriageway lights.
Abby's silky eyelashes subtly twitched over her closed eyes, all the time threatening to open and catch him paying more attention to her than the road. Her naturally unblemished skin with a peaches and cream complexion, Mark could only imagine what it would feel like kissing those sorbet-pink lips. Biting his bottom lip and taking a deep breath through his nose, Mark drew in the faint smell of her perfume filling his soul.
Just over an hour later Abby was woken by a gentle brush of Marks fingers stroking her hair as he softly repeated her name. "Abby... Abby... you're nearly home," he said as they approached Hope Cove.
Abby slowly opened her eyes, quietly sitting in a sleepy daze as she watched Mark drive the final dark mile, the light from the dashboard dimly illuminating his face. He pulled up outside the lighthouse cottage and glanced over to meet Abby's eyes.