Louise returned downstairs to the kitchen and made Rupert his ‘quite milky’ cup of tea. He was already seated on the sofa in the lounge and Louise handed it to him before perching on the arm of the chair opposite.
‘I’m sorry to be a pain Rupert,’ said Louise. ‘The lads are not yet back from something they’re attending to outside and Emma’s got a lousy headache. Do you mind if we hang on for them before looking at what we’ve found? I think it’s something the others should be part of. I hate to keep you because I know how busy you must be.’
‘No, I’m fine here,’ he said, giving another goofy grin. ‘Nice to relax and enjoy the view. Erm, I mean it’s such a lovely place here isn’t it, surrounded by the sea on all sides.’ He reddened again.
He seemed genuinely embarrassed that time, maybe he thought it was one double entendre too many. Either way, to her satisfaction, he certainly seemed to be enjoying the view, and not only the one out to sea.
She was perfectly poised to give him a flash of her knickers and he was exactly the sort of sexually frustrated individual who would love it. She had him sussed, from his ring-free ring finger right up to his buck teeth – here was a guy who had never tasted a woman before. It satisfied a strange predatory instinct in Louise to tantalise someone like that.
Furthermore, she had been hurt and puzzled that John had shown no carnal desires for her either the previous night or that morning. He had been too tired, of course – as had she – but even so, she expected more from him. At least this twerp was showing an interest.
‘So, tell me about yourself,’ said Louise. ‘Have you been a Finds Liaison Officer long? How did you get into that sort of work?’
‘Ah,’ said Rupert, straightening himself and taking a noisy slurp of tea as if about to embark on a long story. ‘I have always been fascinated by archaeology and the desire to uncover something special that I’ve never seen before.’
‘You don’t say,’ said Louise slowly, narrowing her eyes at him.
‘Erm yes, and that’s why from schooldays I would go out in my holidays on archaeological digs and uncover all sorts of things, sometimes broken pottery from the Roman era, and occasionally even pieces of mosaic tiles,’ continued Rupert.
‘Sounds fascinating,’ said Louise, stifling a yawn.
Rupert’s eyes seemed to be straying from gazing steadily at her legs to distant, fantasy lands of endless heritage digs and Roman remains. They misted as he told tales of uncovering long-forgotten fragments from centuries past.
Louise decided it was time to bring things back to the present day. She jigged her legs without opening them, to see if they could compete with ancient pottery. Yes, it looked like they could, Rupert’s eyes flickered away from the far wall back to Louise’s shins and thighs disappearing up that very brief skirt.
A little disconcerted, he carried on: ‘So I found myself dreaming about one day becoming an archaeologist myself. Every night in my bedroom I would read books on the subject and the do’s and don’ts of the profession. There’s honour involved – for instance, an archaeologist cannot usually be declared the finder of treasure for the purposes of being rewarded its value.
‘We are not treasure hunters but seekers of, I don’t know, a chance to get our hands on that which has for so long been hidden from view – to touch and feel something for the first time,’ enthused Rupert, as his eyes gazed in fascination at Louise’s bare legs, so maddeningly gummed together in typical female fashion.
Louise decided he had suffered enough and slowly parted her thighs, giving him a quick flash of white cotton knicker he was longing for. He stared transfixed, and seemed to lose his thread altogether, until Louise brought him out of his trance with a jolt.
‘Why are you staring up my skirt, Rupert?’ she asked him, coolly but softly.
He trembled before going violently red and whispering, ‘oh erm, I wasn’t, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it was most improper and ungentlemanly of me.’
‘Is there a hidden treasure up there that you’d like to uncover?’
‘Erm I erm, I don’t know,’ said Rupert all of a fluster.
‘Ok, now’s the time for honesty,’ said Louse. ‘Repeat after me, “Louise, I’m desperate to get a nice long flash of your knickers.”’
He did so, face turning purple, and Louise opened her legs more widely.
‘There,’ she said. ‘Have a good look. Have you ever touched a woman down there?’
‘Yes of course, well erm no, actually. I’ve been on a couple of dates that my parents set up for me, but things never actually progressed.’
‘Are you frightened of women, Rupert?’ asked Louise.
‘No, erm, a bit,’ he admitted, before blurting out with brutal candour, ‘I suppose I feel ashamed that women will work out that I’m kind of new to this and think I’m a nerd who doesn’t know what to do. I’m sorry I kept looking up your skirt, I didn’t mean any offence.’
‘It’s ok, none taken.’ Louise got up and sat alongside him on the sofa. She took his hand in hers and guided it to her thighs.
‘Go on,’ she coaxed, ‘go and find some hidden treasure.’
Slowly, he moved his hand up her leg and along her inner thigh until he reached the outer edge of her knickers. Driven by a pent-up desire which conquered his shyness, Rupert’s fingers crossed to the soft fabric which he had been so pleased to get a glimpse of earlier and he pressed downwards. So this was what it felt like! So firm yet soft at the same time.
Despite his fumbling clumsiness, or maybe even because of it, Rupert’s touch was exciting Louise. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘If you’re going to lose your virginity anywhere, it might as well be with a beautiful girl like me at the top of a lighthouse.’
Rupert, as if under a spell, followed her up the winding steps to the lamp room. He gasped at the stunning sight through the windows as Louise unbuckled his belt and pulled his grey flannel work trousers to the floor.
‘They’re nice Y-fronts, Rupert,’ she said, mockingly, as she yanked them down next.
Louise pulled him onto the rug, paying no heed as the lighthouse door below opened and closed. She guided Rupert inside her, sensing that he had no idea exactly where to stick it. Rupert, with his white, pigeon chest and puny limbs, was thrilled to experience the pleasure of mounting a woman for the first time – and in such remarkable circumstances.
As he climaxed, his pimply bottom bobbing like an eager rabbit’s, Rupert’s goofy mouth swung open, poised to emit his first ever yell of ecstasy. Louise was ready and clamped her hand down firmly to silence him.
Chapter XXII
‘Whose briefcase is that?’ enquired Dan, as he and John walked into the kitchen, having just returned from the outbuilding.
‘It must be the Finds Liaison Officer’s I’d guess,’ said John. ‘Louise is probably giving him a guided tour or something.
‘Louise, Emma, we’re back!’ he shouted up the spiral staircase. ‘Anyone home?’
John and Dan both scrubbed their hands hard in the sink.
‘I feel like a rock-pool bath after that,’ said John, ‘but I suppose we better wait for the man from the council to go – I don’t think he’d appreciate seeing us jumping around the rocks without our clothes on.
‘Ugh, am I glad that little job is over,’ added John, soaping his arms to his elbows. ‘I can’t believe that neither Louise nor Emma came looking for us, we’ve been ages. I think we did the right thing though. I just did not want to be going down that shaft again.’
‘No, you were right,’ said Dan in a low voice, filling the kettle. ‘Once that find is investigated, the local archaeology people are sure to want to go down it and scout around. It wouldn’t do for them to find a puddle of dried blood in the passageway. Mind you, it won’t only be the heritage boffins either will it? I’ll bet the police will have a good scout around everywhere too.’
‘They’re unlikely to forensically examine every inch of it without good reason,’ said John. ‘Now that w
e’ve cleaned the area up, there should be no reason for them to suspect the exact location where Zak met his death. We must keep our fingers crossed that they’ll judge it to be natural causes arising from a tragic accident out at sea. Anyway, let’s go and find the others.’
John climbed the staircase, calling as he did so. Louise was not in their room. He looked in on Emma. She had just woken after doing her best to sleep off her headache. She had no idea where Louise was. John called to the lamp room: ‘Louise, are you up there?’
The lamp room door eventually opened and a slightly breathless voice called down, ‘yes I’m coming, give me a moment.’
‘We’re making some tea if you’re interested,’ shouted John.
By the time John had made a pot of tea and arranged five mugs on a tray, Louise, the council man and Emma were assembled in the lounge.
‘Sorry Dan and I weren’t here to meet you, Mr Spencer,’ said John, handing him his second cuppa. ‘I hope Louise has been looking after you ok.’
‘Call me Rupert,’ said Rupert, extending his hand, grinning. ‘Yes she’s been particularly attentive to my every need. She took me up to the lamp room and showed me a splendid view. It was a most memorable experience.’
That earned Rupert a sharp look from Louise who could tell he was fizzing with pride at having finally lost his cherry. She moved her chair within easy ankle-kicking distance.
‘Come on, down to business,’ she said. ‘I will go and get what we found from the safe and array it on the coffee table for Rupert to take a look at and he can tell us what he thinks.’
With any luck, his deep-seated love of ancient artefacts would reassert itself in his mind. So it proved. Not for the first time that morning, the bulging eyes of Rupert Spencer, Finds Liaison Officer and first-rate archaeology nerd, seemed poised to tumble from their sockets. He put his hand to his gaping mouth in theatrical astonishment at what he saw before him. It was an incredible sight – for all of them.
‘Astonishing,’ said Rupert, eventually, his bulbous eyes gleaming. ‘Oh how glad I am that this constitutes Treasure Trove and not salvage from a wreck.’
‘Aah, so you officially agree that I was right,’ said Dan, smiling.
‘Oh yes quite so, you see it would constitute wreck had this dropped to the seabed accidentally from the ship as it foundered. But because, as you say, Dan, it was salvaged at the time by Captain Felipe and placed in the spot you found it specifically by him, to which he hoped one day to return and take it away, then it is most definitely treasure, and fine treasure at that.
‘You mentioned the gold and silver coins and ingots on the phone but these too are remarkably fine and valuable specimens,’ Rupert continued, pointing to the pewter drinking goblets.
‘So what happens now?’ asked Dan.
‘Well, you’ve done absolutely the right thing by reporting this find to me as Finds Liaison Officer for Cornwall. By law you are required to do so within 14 days if you know or suspect that what you have found comes within the legal definition of treasure as defined in the Treasure Act of 1996 or indeed constitutes what used to be called Treasure Trove,’ droned Rupert, pompously, anxious to atone for his earlier slip-ups.
Rupert puffed himself up in his chair and took a noisy slurp of tea. He felt in charge now. Here he was, a man of the world, an expert in his field and also – with effect from that day – someone who could charm and seduce the ladies. No longer would he just be an archaeologist bookworm, now he was a proper man who could hold his head high in the world.
‘Fine, so the next step is?’ asked Dan impatiently. ‘We don’t want this stuff to sit on the coffee table, it needs to be somewhere secure.’
‘Yes indeed,’ said Rupert. ‘What I need to do now is to inform Her Majesty’s Coroner for Cornwall who is likely to call a formal inquest into this find. This has two key functions: to decide who found it and whether it constitutes treasure. If it is declared treasure, it belongs to the Crown and I will inform the British Museum to ascertain whether they or any other museum wishes to purchase these items. That being the case, and it is highly likely, the hoard will be bought by a museum from the Crown based on a market valuation carried out by the Treasure Valuation Committee. Provided you are declared the legitimate finders, all or part of the sum paid will be shared between the four of you.’
The others listened in silence, taking it in.
‘The one big unknown,’ continued Rupert, ‘is this – what effect will the question of ownership of the land where you found this treasure have on your claim? If you have the sales particulars of the lighthouse and island, Louise, I might be able to shed some light on it.’
Dan went to get them, he had put them safe along with Captain Felipe’s diary.
‘You see,’ said Rupert, ‘if you seek out treasure on land you don’t own without the permission of the owner, you might not be entitled to much if any of the subsequent value.’
The others looked at him in dismay. Was this wisdom talking, or youthful bluster? But within a few seconds they had reason to be grateful to him.
‘It shouldn’t be hard to sort out,’ he said, glancing at the plans and architectural drawings. ‘This isn’t quite my field but I know something about it. Aah yes, you see the tunnel is marked on the diagram and was clearly borne in mind when the sale was made.
‘Yes, look here, amid the legal jargon, it was included as part of the sale of the island to your parents, Louise, as an easement appurtenant. I don’t blame you for missing that, what it means is that the tunnel and two caves adjacent belong to your parents but the easement allows the Crown access along the tunnel. In other words, there is effectively a public right, or at least, a Royal right of way leading to this island but its ownership rests with your parents.
‘This is good news since while they may be entitled to a 50% share in this find, provided they say that what you took from the cave was with their permission, you will each get quarter shares of the remaining 50%.
‘And . . . ,’ Rupert paused for maximum effect, sitting tall in his chair and colouring slightly, ‘I’m pleased to inform you that you would be in line for several tens of thousands of pounds each – even based on a quarter of a half, with the rest going to your mum and dad Louise, so they should be pleased with you.’
‘That’d be a first,’ said Louise, grinning at him. ‘That sounds pretty darn good to me. So as Dan says, where do we go from here?’
‘My advice would be that you come ashore with me now and we’ll take the hoard to the Royal Cornwall Museum – my van is parked near the jetty, it will easily fit in the back – and hand it over to the Curator,’ said Rupert. ‘He will give you a receipt for the items and keep everything securely pending the decision of the Coroner.’
The others looked at each other in excitement at the news. This sounded promising. No-one minded that half the value would probably go to Louise’s parents. It was, after all, thanks to them that they were having such a fantastic holiday in the first place, let alone getting the opportunity to find buried treasure!
‘Ok, folks, shall we do as the man from the council says and go over with him and hand over the loot to the Curator at the museum? It will make his day I expect,’ said Louise.
Rupert helped them load the treasure into boxes and between them they heaved them across the rocks to the Cornwall Council motorboat where the skipper was waiting patiently.
‘I say, I’m sorry we were a while,’ said Rupert. ‘I hope you haven’t been too bored.’
‘Bored?’ replied the skipper, stroking his grey moustache. ‘I’ve had my newspaper to read and a lovely view to gaze at, I could sit here all day in this boat.’ He helped Rupert and the students lift the boxes on board.
‘Right, jump in everybody,’ said Rupert cheerily. ‘You don’t mind a few extra passengers do you, Pete?’
‘Certainly not sir, so long as we’re still afloat, I’m happy,’ he replied.
Dan looked contentedly towards Wreckers Island as the
boat began its journey across the bay. The tension and danger of the previous day when bad luck seemed ever poised to strike had been replaced with a sense of calm and order. The unfortunate matter of what to do about Zak had been dealt with promptly and soon the treasure would soon be sitting safely in the sturdy vaults of a long-established and respected museum. At last he could relax.
He glanced casually across at the newspaper now lying beneath skipper Pete’s steering wheel. It was that morning’s edition of the Cornish Gazette. The front page headline read: ‘Body found off the coast’.
Dan read it with only mild curiosity at first, absentmindedly wondering where exactly. Reality hit him with a jolt: Zak! His body had already been found! It must have been discovered within an hour or two of them dumping it to have made it into the following day’s paper – just what they didn’t want to happen.
Dan shot a sharp look at John but he hadn’t noticed and nor had the girls.
‘Pete, it is Pete isn’t it, would you mind if I had a look at your paper – catch up on the local gossip?’ asked Dan.
‘No not at all cap’n, you go right ahead,’ said Pete, amiably.
Dan took the newspaper, angling it so that the others couldn’t see, swallowed hard and began reading.
THE body of a man with a severe head wound was recovered from the sea off the south Cornish coast last night.
The discovery was made in a ravine close to Gunwalloe Cove yesterday evening by a fisherman. The man is thought to be local although a formal identification has not yet taken place.
The man, in his late 40s, was wearing a ship’s safety harness and it is possible he was lost overboard and the tide carried his body to the shore, say police.
Wreckers Island (romantic suspense) Page 16