The TV gave a static pop as a nurse unmuted it, snapping Jess back to the present.
‘The mystery surrounding the dramatic rescue of twin children from a sinking yacht on Horseshoe Reef yesterday deepened this morning. A police spokesperson confirmed that DNA found on the boat proves beyond doubt that its skipper, Gabriel Carter, was the mysterious John Doe found dead on a Cowrie Sands beach on November twenty-third.
‘Tonight, Star News can exclusively reveal that Carter, a forty-five-year-old shipwright from Bantry Creek, Florida, adopted the twin boy and girl after their mom died. The family left the US last summer to live the dream of sailing around the world.
‘What happened to turn that dream into a nightmare?
‘As detectives wait to speak to the children, who are recovering from their ordeal in a Tortola hospital, they’ll be seeking answers to these urgent questions: How did two twelve-year-olds end up alone on a yacht near Horseshoe Reef, Anegada, in seas so lethal that three hundred vessels have gone to their graves there?
‘Police believe that Carter drowned a couple of weeks ago. Why didn’t the twins report him missing at the time?’
The TV camera zoomed in on a colourful beach hut. An over-tanned reporter said: ‘At the Taco Shack on Cow Wreck Beach, owner Suzy Long recalls serving the twins shortly before the squall blew in.’
The reporter held her mic out to Suzy, who leaned in.
‘They stuck in my mind because they weren’t like the usual tourist kids we see around here,’ said Suzy. ‘They were thin and kinda scruffy and paid with a bagful of change. Not an adult in sight. I’d have been concerned if I hadn’t seen them laughing with their dog on the beach. They looked happy. Now I feel guilty I didn’t warn them about the storm, but only a lunatic would let two kids sail these deadly seas on their own.’
The reporter nodded fervently. He turned an earnest gaze on the viewers.
‘Few people know the twins better than Anita Williams, owner of the Castaway Diner in Bantry Creek, Florida. For years, her diner was their second home, and her staff their back-up “mamas and papas”. They cooked for the children, drove them to school and helped them with homework while Gabe Carter, their guardian, worked long hours at the boatyard next door.
‘Star News goes live to Castaway Diner in Bantry Creek to find out more.’
Tears sprang into Jess’s eyes at the sight of the diner, with its cheerful blue-and-yellow tablecloths and ‘Dish of the Day’ (Peach Cobbler!) menu board. Regina was plating up waffles in the kitchen while Ricardo washed dishes in the background.
Leaning on the counter was Anita.
‘Ms Williams, how did you feel when you heard that the twins were at the centre of a high-seas drama? According to the Virgin Islands Search and Rescue crew, it was only the quick-thinking and heroism of young Jess that saved them both from certain doom at Horseshoe Reef.’
‘Gabe’s death has hit us hard,’ said Anita. ‘He was family to all of us at the Castaway. As for Jess’s heroics, she always was part dolphin. She could swim before she could crawl. Sharp as a whip too. And Jude was always either on a boat or fixing ’em. But they were just regular kids. Sweet kids. Jude could be hyper and goofy one minute and shy as anything the next. Jess was quiet and mostly lost in a book. Whatever went wrong on those islands must have forced them to grow up real fast.’
She looked directly into the camera lens. ‘Jess and Jude, if you ever need us, your Castaway mamas and papas will always be here for you.’
The bulletin ended. A chair scraped back.
Jess pretended she was asleep.
One nurse fussed over Jude. The other sighed as she straightened Jess’s sheet.
‘Oh, Nurse Rolle, my heart breaks for these kids. If I were them, I’d keep slumbering too. Why is fate so cruel to some children while giving others so much more than they need? What do these twins have to look forward to? They have no mom or dad, no guardian, and they’ve lost the boat that was their only home. No way of sugar-coating that. Any which way you look at it, they have a rocky road ahead.’
‘Jude, I can tell by your breathing that you’re awake,’ said Jess. ‘It’s been two days now. You can’t give me the silent treatment forever. We have to talk.’
Her brother didn’t stir. He just lay there, stubbornly facing the wall.
‘I know you hate me,’ said Jess, ‘but I’m surprised you don’t care whether Sam’s dead or alive.’
That got to him.
He rolled over with difficulty, wincing in pain. Too weak to sit up on his own, he pressed a button and let the bed do it for him. His eyes were half hidden by bandages.
‘Jess, don’t you understand? I hate myself. Not you or Gabe or the boat or the freaking storm. Me. Gabe always said that most times it’s not the ocean or the weather that kills sailors; it’s arrogance and ego. Not bothering with safety lines. Thinking you’re a better sailor than you are. Being too cool for school. My ego could have gotten you killed. Could have killed Sam too. Where is he? Is he . . . ?’
‘Alive? Yes, he is. And having loads more fun than we are. A dog-mad Englishwoman who heard our story on the news offered to walk Sam and take care of him. She runs some animal charity here. When we’re a bit better, Barbara will bring him to the hospital garden so we can pet him.’
‘I’m glad Sam’s OK,’ Jude said miserably, ‘but I wish you hadn’t saved me. Apart from anything, it’s embarrassing – being saved by your sister.’
‘You’re saying that if I was knocked overboard in a storm, you wouldn’t have jumped in to rescue me?’ accused Jess.
‘You know I would! I’d give my life to save yours.’
‘You mean you wouldn’t just leave me to drown because it would be embarrassing for me to be saved by my own brother?’
‘Point taken.’
‘Jude, Gabe would have struggled to get us out of that squall in one piece. You were magnificent. I know we wrecked the boat, but I was impressed with us. We made a good team. Sorry for being a beast before the storm.’
‘Me too,’ said Jude, shame-faced but smiling. ‘Thanks for saving me, sis.’
‘Any time, bro. Now, if we’re done feeling sorry for ourselves, we need to put our heads together. The police are champing at the bit, desperate to question us. We need to get our story straight or our darkest fears about being taken into care and maybe being separated will come true.’
‘Have the police learned anything more about what happened to Gabe?’ asked Jude. ‘What if there really was foul play, and now whoever spiked our drinks wants us gone too? If we’re on the news and stuck in the hospital, it wouldn’t be hard for them to track us down.’
The same thought had crossed Jess’s mind, but she hoped that both of them were being melodramatic. She and Jude had assumed that the email they’d found was about them, but maybe Gabe’s promise to take ‘them’ to the ends of the earth had been about a string of pearls or some rare gold coins or something else of enormous value. Not a couple of scruffy orphans.
Even so, until they knew what shape any possible threat might take, it was best to err on the side of extreme caution.
‘Wait until you meet Nurse Rolle,’ she told Jude. ‘It would take a brave assassin to get past her!’
‘I see,’ said Detective Jack Trenton when they were done telling him their story the next day. ‘Yes, I see.’
Jess found it impossible to tell what he was thinking. His thin face gave nothing away. Yet there was something about his hopeful, expectant expression that invited confession. Hardly had he sat down than the twins found themselves willing and eager to tell him all the secrets they’d ever had. He was like a human truth serum.
For the past forty-five minutes, the policeman’s tall, lanky frame had occupied a chair in the twins’ hospital room. He talked less and listened more than any adult they’d ever met.
It was only later that Jess worked out that the way he got results was by only ever asking half-questions. It left her with an uncontrollable u
rge to fill in the blanks.
‘And you felt it best to keep that to yourselves because . . . ?’ he enquired softly.
‘And your thinking on that was . . . ?
‘You suspected foul play because . . . ?
‘And your plan was . . . ?
‘So you decided to visit Horseshoe Reef because . . . ?’
Finally, he said: ‘Is that everything? You’ve left nothing out?’
Jess fought the urge to tell him about the crumpled note they’d found in Gabe’s locked box, which she and Jude had agreed was their secret.
Thankfully, Nurse Rolle came by to check on them, distracting the detective long enough for Jude to whisper, ‘Jess, should we say anything?’
Jess put a finger to her lips.
The detective turned suddenly but gave no sign of having noticed. He picked up his trilby and turned it over in his hands.
‘So, to sum up, after Gabriel disappeared, you decided not to report him missing and to continue sailing around the world for as long as you could because you were afraid that the authorities – people like myself – would lock you up in an institution, perhaps even separate you?’
‘Yes,’ said Jude. ‘And now because I messed up—’
‘We messed up by deciding to go to Horseshoe Reef,’ Jess reminded him.
‘. . . Our worst nightmare is going to happen.’ Detective Trenton considered them gravely. ‘You do know that modern residential institutions for children are a far cry from the orphanages in books and films? There are caring places, even inspiring places. We’d do our best to place you in one of those.’
‘What if turns out that, behind closed doors, they feed us gruel and are mean and cruel after all?’ demanded Jess. ‘We’d be far from here. You’ll be busy solving crimes. You’ll have forgotten about us. You don’t understand what it’s like to be all alone in the world. To have no one.’
‘I understand better than you might imagine. I was in care myself.’
Jess swallowed. ‘You were?’
‘Believe it or not, cops can be orphans too,’ he told her. ‘I was raised in a group home for kids without families in Boston.’
‘Then you do understand,’ cried Jess. ‘Detective Trenton, promise you won’t let them separate us or drag us away somewhere awful. Jude, maybe you’re right. We should go and live at the Castaway Diner. Anita and the waitresses will take care of us.’
The policeman looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m afraid it’s not quite so simple. It seems that your US citizenship is in question. No one doubts that you were born in Florida, but there are irregularities on your birth certificates. Your mom was using a fake social security number, and Gabe lied about being your father. He did what he did out of the goodness of his heart, but the law sees it differently. Until the situation’s resolved, you’re wards of court and . . . stateless.’
Thinking about the lost bank card, Jess asked, ‘Did Gabe leave us any money in his will? Maybe we could buy another boat to live on.’
‘No will has been found,’ replied Detective Trenton. ‘To be honest, even if one turns up, it’ll be invalid, because Gabe didn’t adopt you legally. Any money he had is likely to pass to his half-brother, who lives in Alaska.’
Jude was in a state of shock. ‘You’re telling us that me and Jess are stateless, homeless, motherless, fatherless, guardianless and penniless? Wow. That’s a lot of less.’
‘Yes, it is,’ admitted Jack Trenton. ‘I don’t suppose Gabe ever discovered where your mom was born, or whether or not you had any distant relatives?’
‘We drove him crazy asking and asking,’ said Jess. ‘Trust me, he was as in the dark about Mom’s background as we were.’
‘There is one thing we can try. Ever heard of DNA?’
Jess had to stop herself rolling her eyes. Why did people assume that just because she lived on a boat, she was half idiot? As a mystery reader and aspiring detective herself, she’d known about DNA for years. She couldn’t resist showing off her expertise to the detective: ‘Deoxyribonucleic acid? Of course, we’ve heard of it.’
The detective smiled. ‘Then you’ll know that DNA is basically a genetic fingerprint. Everyone’s is unique.’
‘Forensic scientists use it to link murderers to crime scenes,’ said Jude.
‘Indeed, they do. But people have also traced long-lost family members using DNA profiling. We could try that in this case.’
‘Yes, please!’ cried Jess, her mind leaping to possible long-lost royal cousins or kindly uncles residing on lavender farms in Provence or amid the dreaming spires of Oxford.
Jude was wondering what would happen if their long-lost cousins turned out to be bank robbers or child-loathing bullies living in isolated rural hamlets. What then?
But he agreed with Jess. For good or for bad, they had to know.
‘Try not to get your hopes up too high,’ cautioned Jack Trenton. ‘Despite what you see on TV detective shows, there’s only a one-in-a-billion chance of a match.’
10
BLUES AND ROYALS
Ten days after they were shipwrecked, Detective Trenton returned with some of the answers the twins had been seeking their entire lives.
Answers to questions such as where had their mother been born and raised, and where had she journeyed from before she blew into Bantry Creek on the hurricane’s wild wings?
They knew even less about their dad. They didn’t know his name or his occupation. Would Jack Trenton tell them how and why he came to save the life of his best friend?
Jess and Jude were in the hospital garden when the detective turned up. After much begging, they’d persuaded Nurse Rolle to allow Jude out of bed for an hour so he could see Sam.
‘Yes, on condition that Jess keeps that hairy mutt on a lead. I don’t want it jumping up and knocking you flat. Jude, you’ll need to sit in a wheelchair in the shade.’
‘Jess’s the one with the sprained ankle, not me,’ protested Jude. ‘Nothing wrong with my legs apart from a few scratches.’
‘And what happens if you have a fainting spell and hit your foolish head on the concrete?’ demanded Nurse Rolle. ‘Do you really want a cracked skull to add to your dramas? Are you angling to spend another month on the ward under my care?’
‘No, ma’am, I am not.’
‘My care not good enough for you, boy?’
‘Your care’s the best, Nurse Rolle,’ Jude said hastily.
She laughed. ‘Well then. The wheelchair it is. Any case, the sea air’ll give you a boost. Better than any medicine. I’ll give you a portable alarm too. You feel dizzy, you press it and I’ll come a-walking.’
‘You mean, you’ll come running?’
‘No, boy – I’ll be walking. If any Usain Bolt stuff is required, I’ll leave it to Nurse Jones.’
It was Nurse Jones who pushed Jude’s wheelchair out to the garden at midday. Jess swung beside them on crutches. The nurse sat them in the shadows of a late-flowering flamboyant tree while she talked to Barbara, Sam’s foster carer, nearby.
Jess was lolling on the bench and Jude was about to throw a Frisbee for his beloved dog when Detective Trenton strode up the path. After a brief word with the nurse, he came over.
He took off his trilby but stayed standing. ‘I have news.’
Jess noted that he didn’t say whether the news was good or bad.
‘We have a match.’
An electric thrill ran through Jess. Jude gulped. He reached for his sister’s hand and gripped it painfully.
Detective Trenton looked nervous. ‘Truthfully, when I suggested we try the DNA route, I thought we had very little chance of finding your parents. I confess to being astounded by the result. I hesitate to describe it as a miracle, but it’s difficult to see it any other way.’
He took a notebook from his pocket and consulted it before continuing. ‘Ready?’
‘Ready,’ the twins said together.
‘Your father was British . . .’
‘British?’ cried Je
ss. ‘Like Miss Marple, Sherlock Holmes and the Famous Five!’
‘Like them, yes. Your dad was born in Shoreditch, East London. His name was Jim Gray.’
‘Gray?’ Jude said in wonder.
Jess turned the words over in her mind. Gray was a fine name. Humble and kind. She’d never heard a better one. Jim Gray of Shoreditch, London. Did that mean she was Jess Gray now?
‘He started his career in the Blues and Royals . . .’
‘Royals?’
‘Yes, but before you go thinking you’re some top-secret royal cousin, that’s the nickname for the Queen’s Horse Guards. For five years, Jim Gray was in Her Majesty’s Cavalry Regiment at Buckingham Palace.’
Jess was overwhelmed. It seemed so fantastical. Her dad had guarded Queen Elizabeth II!
‘I thought you might like to see a picture of him.’
And just like that, a huge piece of the puzzle of them, of who they were, slotted into place.
The soldier in the photo was the spitting image of Jude, albeit without the sun-bleached curls. Beneath his polished brass-and-steel helmet, with its magnificent scarlet plume, he had a military buzz cut. But he had Jude’s laughing eyes and square jaw. Both twins had inherited his smile and his neat, straight nose with a tiny kink on the bridge.
He was holding the reins of a towering black horse. Seeing their dad for the first time was equal parts devastating and the best thing ever. If only they’d had a chance to get to know him.
‘Next, Jim took a job as head groom in Gloucestershire . . .’ Jack Trenton was saying.
‘Wait – why did he leave the Queen’s Cavalry?’ asked Jude.
‘From what I could glean, he’d married your mother, Joanna—’
‘Our mom’s name was Joanna?’ This from Jess. ‘I thought it was Ana?’
‘Jo – Ana, Joanna?’ said Jude.
‘. . . and they were looking to leave the city and start a family. She was a New Zealander who’d come to the UK to work as a nanny. An opportunity arose for Jim and Joanna to work together as a couple at Blakeney Park, a stately home on a three-hundred-acre estate. Jim took care of the horses, and your mother was a personal assistant and – later – carer to Robert Blakeney, a newspaper owner in poor health. There they stayed until your father’s unfortunate accident.’
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