Another awful thought occurred to Laura. What if the chauffeur was not a member of the Straight A gang but really was a Government Minister come to lure Calvin Redfern away on some special assignment that would result in Laura being sent back to Sylvan Meadows? Or what if someone with a red pen and too much power at Social Services had read about her adventures at Dead Man’s Cove and sent a lawyer to inform Calvin Redfern that he was a thoroughly unsuitable guardian and that she’d be better off back in the orphanage?
She tried to catch Mrs Crabtree’s eye, but it was too late. Her neighbour piped up, ‘This is Laura right here. And who, might I ask, are you?’
A smile lit the face of the chauffeur, a black man who could easily have been a movie star himself. ‘You’re Laura Marlin. And there I was picturing someone much … older. Not, I’m certain, that it makes any difference. Miss Marlin, would you come this way, please? I have something for you.’
Laura backed away in alarm, keeping Skye close to her.
The chauffeur raised his eyebrows. ‘I must say, that’s not quite the reaction I was expecting.’ He smiled again. ‘No matter. You’re right to be wary of strangers.’
He returned to the limousine and produced a dozen pink balloons and a large, thick pink envelope, all of which he placed in Laura’s reluctant hands.
‘You didn’t tell me it was your birthday, Laura,’ exclaimed Mrs Crabtee.
‘It’s not.’ Laura was braced for a trick or a trap. She and Calvin Redfern, a former detective who had a top-secret job investigating illegal fishing in the waters around Cornwall, had recently been responsible for the arrests of several key members of the Straight A’s, and the gang was notoriously vengeful.
She needn’t have worried. The chauffeur merely touched the brim of his hat and gave another grin. ‘Goodbye and good luck, Miss Marlin.’ He nodded at Mrs Crabtree as he climbed into the limousine. ‘Goodbye, ma’am. If you don’t mind me saying so, that’s some outfit you have on. Quite striking. Brightens up a cloudy day, it does.’
Laura started forward. ‘Wait,’ she cried. ‘What company are you from? Who sent you?’
But the chauffeur’s dark window was already sliding shut and he didn’t appear to hear her. Jackdaws rose screeching from the cemetery as the limousine purred away.
‘Aren’t you going to open your letter?’ demanded Mrs Crabtree, still glowing from the chauffeur’s compliment.
Laura turned the envelope over. Her name was typed on the front but there was no other mark on it.
Mrs Crabtree said impatiently: ‘Here, give it to me.’ She ripped the envelope open without ceremony, withdrew a pink card and read aloud:
‘Dear Laura Marlin,
‘Congratulations from all at Fantasy Holidays Ltd on winning a luxury cruise for two to the beautiful Caribbean island of—’
She had to pause then because Laura squealed with delight and started leaping around like a crazy person. Skye threw his head back and howled with excitement.
‘–Antigua. The enclosed voucher – shush, Skye, you’re giving me a headache – includes a voyage from Falmouth, Cornwall to Antigua on the Ocean Empress, a week’s all-inclusive accommodation at the five-star Blue Haven resort, a helicopter tour of Montserrat’s volcano, and return flights to the United Kingdom.’
Mrs Crabtree engulfed Laura in her furry leopard coat. ‘My dear girl, I take everything back. Your holiday competition is genuine after all. Forgive me for being such an old cynic. Oh, I could not possibly be happier for you and Calvin. Two people more deserving of a holiday I simply can’t imagine.’
When at last Laura managed to extricate herself from Mrs Crabtree’s embrace, she walked up the steps of 28 Ocean View Terrace in a joyful daze. It was impossible to take in. The winning mauve ticket had her name on it. She and her uncle were going on the trip of a lifetime to the Caribbean. She’d be able to pay him back for his kindness. They’d be sipping coconut milk in hammocks and swimming with dolphins in turquoise lagoons.
It was only as the door creaked shut behind her that Mrs Crabtree’s warning came back to her: ‘There’s a reason people often put “trouble” and “paradise” in the same sentence, you know. The two words tend to go together.’
‘WE’RE NOT GOING and that’s final,’ said Calvin Redfern.
Laura stared at her uncle in dismay. The moment he’d walked in the door, she’d pounced on him and told him the good news. His face was lined with exhaustion, but she’d fully expected him to whirl her off her feet and do a dance of happiness at the prospect of a free holiday. Instead he’d reacted as if she’d set her mattress on fire.
‘But why? I don’t understand.’
He ticked off his objections on his fingers. a) It was too sudden. What kind of travel firm expected them to pack their bags and depart on an ocean voyage with only two day’s notice? b) Who would look after Skye?
‘Tariq!’ Laura said triumphantly. ‘I’ve already checked with him and he said he can’t think of anything nicer than looking after his favourite husky for a couple of weeks. You know his foster dad is a vet so Skye will be in very good hands.’
Her uncle continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
‘And c) I couldn’t possibly take leave from work. This is our busiest time of the year. We’re worried about the rise in illegal bluefin tuna imports.’
Laura said nothing. She had only been in Cornwall for a little over three months but it seemed to her that every week was the busiest of the year in her uncle’s job. She’d never known anyone who worked so hard.
‘Anyway, as I’ve said before, there’s bound to be a catch,’ he continued. ‘The Ocean Empress will turn out to be a rubber dinghy with a leak. If you check the small print you can be sure you’ll find dozens of hidden charges on the trip.’
He refused to relent even when Laura produced vouchers and documents guaranteeing payment for all meals, accommodation, flights for the whole two weeks of their journey, plus a travellers’ cheque with $200 spending money on it – a gift from the competition organisers.
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ said Calvin Redfern.
‘Why?’ demanded Laura.
‘Laura, try to understand that I’d love to go as much as you would. It’s just that we’re having a crisis at work at the moment and I can’t be spared.’
There was a tense moment as they faced each other across the kitchen table. Surely the bluefin tuna could manage without him for a week or two, Laura thought, and then immediately felt guilty for being so selfish.
She had a flashback to the stormy winter’s night she’d arrived in St Ives. She’d never forgotten her first impression of her uncle. He’d been silhouetted in the doorway of 28 Ocean View Terrace with his wolfhound at his side, exuding a barely controlled strength. She’d been terrified. However, she’d quickly come to realise that he was the kindest man on earth. Now she loved him like a father – her real father, said to be an American, having vanished without trace after a brief romance with the mother she’d never known.
But as nice as he was, Calvin Redfern was a grown up and grown ups quite often put practical considerations ahead of fun. They liked to say things such as, ‘Life is for living. It’s not a dress rehearsal.’ But that only applied if they weren’t thinking about their taxes or the mess in your room. Or the many reasons why they couldn’t go on a dream holiday to the Caribbean.
The telephone trilled, making them both jump. Calvin Redfern picked it up. The conversation was brief and Laura knew what her uncle was going to tell her even before he hung up.
‘As you’ve probably gathered, that was Tariq’s foster father. A relative is gravely ill and he and his wife have to leave for Delhi on the first available flight. They’re not sure when they’ll be back and they’ve asked whether it would be possible for Tariq to stay with us for the holidays. Naturally, I said yes.’
He opened the oven and took out a dish of macaroni cheese. ‘We can think of some fun things to do around Cornwall,’ he said, ladling a
steaming portion onto a plate for her. ‘Maybe we could have a day out at the Eden Project.’
‘Does that mean we’re not going to be sailing away to the Caribbean after all?’ Laura was so crushed she could hardly breathe.
‘No, Laura, we’re not going to be sailing away to Antigua.’ Her uncle put an arm around her. His eyes were sad. It hurt him to hurt her. ‘I’m sorry. I know how disappointed you are and it makes me feel ill to let you down. Unfortunately, duty calls. But I give you my word I’ll make it up to you.’
Laura could tell that he’d made up his mind and it was no use arguing. She dug her fork into her macaroni. ‘It’s fine, Uncle Calvin. Really it is. It’ll be wonderful to spend time with Tariq, and I’ll get over it.’
But she knew she never would.
That night, Laura couldn’t sleep at all. She tossed and turned for hours. At 2.10am, she wept on Skye’s shoulder. Ordinarily, she would have been over the moon about having Tariq to stay for a couple of weeks. It’s just that dream holidays don’t come along every day, and she was devastated that her uncle had turned it down. She’d thought of suggesting that maybe she and Tariq could go instead, but guessed that wouldn’t go down very well. Besides, who’d take care of Skye?
She was still awake at 2.48am when she heard the faint bleep of an incoming text on her uncle’s mobile. Skye heard it too. Ears pricked, he jumped off the bed. A minute later, Laura heard the click of the front door. She flung off her duvet and peered through a slit in the blind.
When she’d first arrived at 28 Ocean View Terrace, the house had been full of secrets and her uncle had been a mysterious figure, haunted by his past and prone to taking midnight walks. Now they shared everything. Or did they? Where was Calvin Redfern going on such a wild, rainy night?
But he didn’t go far. Coat collar turned up against the gale, he crossed the road to the graveyard, opened the gate and was immediately swallowed by the black shadows of the twisted pine. Nothing happened for a long time. It was too dark to make out what, if anything, he was up to, and Laura was about to return to her warm bed when she spotted an orange glow. Her uncle didn’t smoke, which could only mean one thing. He had company. But who could he be meeting at 3am in the cemetery of all places?
Before she could ponder the matter further, her uncle swept through the cemetery gate, checked to see that he wasn’t being observed, and hurried back into the house. Laura stayed at the window for a few minutes longer but no one else appeared. Somewhere in the night she heard a car engine rumble.
At length she fell into a disturbed sleep, waking bleary-eyed when her alarm went off at seven. Her uncle, usually long gone by the time Laura came down for breakfast, was in the kitchen making coffee. He seemed oddly cheerful.
‘Good morning, Laura, I’m so pleased I caught you.’ He handed her a mug and popped a slice of bread into the toaster for her. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to meet you when you finish school today. We have a lot to do and not much time to do it.’
Laura’s eyes were open but her brain was still asleep. She tipped cornflakes into a bowl and stared at him blankly. ‘I’m sorry, what is it we’re supposed to be doing?’
He grinned. ‘Laura, you have a very short memory. Surely you can’t have forgotten that you’ve won us a trip and we’re going to the Caribbean?’
It took a couple of seconds for the words to sink in, but even then Laura didn’t get excited. She didn’t trust what she was hearing. ‘What’s changed?’ she asked warily. ‘I thought we couldn’t go because you have a crisis at work, and the travel company didn’t give us enough notice, and the Ocean Empress might be a leaky raft.’
Calvin Redfern held up his hand. ‘I know what I said last night, Laura, but I was being unduly pessimistic. Exhaustion does that to me. It clouds my judgement. I called my boss first thing this morning and he has no problem with me taking leave under the circumstances. I also did some Internet research. The Ocean Empress looks quite impressive. In addition, I’ve checked with Tariq’s foster parents and they’re more than happy for him to stay with Skye and Rowenna, especially since you’d already mentioned that as a possibility. Don’t worry about any of the details now. The main thing is, you’re going on your dream holiday.’
Laura’s head was whirling. The previous night her uncle had been dead set against going to the Caribbean. This morning, just hours after his secret mission in the cemetery, there was this sudden change of heart. What was going on?
She shook herself. She was being paranoid. Winning the competition was a random, one-in-a-hundred-thousand thing. Whereas her uncle’s meeting was probably something to do with bluefin tuna smugglers. What did it matter why the impossible had become possible in the space of a few hours? She’d got her wish. Within days, she’d be swimming with dolphins and sipping coconut milk in hammocks beneath pearly blue skies.
Then why did she suddenly feel so uneasy?
THE SHIP LOOKED like a floating wedding cake. That was what went through Laura’s mind when she first caught a glimpse of it on their approach to Falmouth harbour. But nothing prepared her for the sheer magnificence of the vessel up close. The Ocean Empress was so tall that Laura got a crick in her neck staring up at her. She was a skyscraper of a boat, white as a swan with a single orange band lining her sleek side. Watery patterns of light danced around her prow.
‘What I don’t understand,’ said Tariq in awe, ‘is how something that big stays afloat. But,’ he added hastily, ‘it definitely will.’
Laura barely took in what he was saying. She was a bundle of nerves. In little more than an hour the Ocean Empress would set sail for the Caribbean and Laura was determined to ensure that nothing should happen to prevent her and Calvin Redfern from being on board when that happened.
Her fretting was justified. It had been a fraught forty-eight hours since her uncle had changed his mind and agreed to go to the Caribbean after all. There had been packing to organise, swimsuits to buy, arrangements to be made with Tariq’s foster parents, and mountains of work for Calvin Redfern to get through in order to justify taking two weeks away from his job.
Laura was particularly jumpy because already that morning a whole series of things had gone wrong. She and her uncle had woken to discover the boiler was broken and there was no hot water – not good news when it was already so unseasonably cold that Rowenna had begun the day by chipping ice off the birdbath in the garden. Calvin Redfern’s old car had delayed them further by refusing to start until he climbed out and pushed it, and a misunderstanding over where Tariq’s foster parents would be dropping him off in Falmouth had made them later still.
To make matters worse, a cruel parking inspector had refused to allow Rowenna to wait even a minute close to the harbour, which meant that Tariq and his backpack were on the jetty with Laura and Skye while Rowenna had been left with no choice but to park the car on the other side of town.
Calvin Redfern was at the information booth on the jetty. Frowning slightly, he came over to them. When he saw no sign of Rowenna he looked more concerned still. ‘Let’s hope she gets back soon. Our ship sets sail within the hour and we can’t possibly leave Tariq here on his own.’
He studied the folder of travel documents. ‘Laura, would you mind very much if I go on ahead while you wait with Tariq and Skye? There seems to be some confusion over our documentation. Here is your boarding pass. As soon as Rowenna gets here, say goodbye to Tariq and Skye and board the ship immediately. A steward will show you where to go. You have your phone with you, don’t you? Any problems, call me on my mobile.’
He shook Tariq’s hand. ‘Goodbye, lad. It’s a shame you can’t come with us. I know that Laura will miss you. Next time. Bye, Skye. Hey, that rhymes!’
Laughing, he joined the colourful stream of passengers crossing the gangplank to the ship and soon disappeared from view.
Laura looked at Tariq. He was eleven like her and tall for his age, but when she’d first met him he’d been almost skeletally thin. Since then he’d fil
led out and become sinewy and strong. He had skin the colour of burnt caramel, amber eyes and glossy black hair that came down to his collar. Laura, by contrast, had a cap of pale blonde hair, grey eyes and peaches-and-cream skin. Walking down the street, they made a striking pair, particularly if the husky was with them.
‘If this was a movie, I’d smuggle you and Skye on board and we’d all sail away to the Caribbean together,’ Laura said.
‘That would be cool. I’d love that.’ Tariq’s tone was wistful. He’d recently learned to swim and he loved boats and the sea. ‘I’m going to miss you.’
The husky whined softly. He’d been downcast ever since Laura had taken her suitcase out of the cupboard. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t go to Antigua too.
Laura scanned the crowds. There was no sign of Rowenna. A gleam came into her eye. ‘Tariq, I have an idea. Why don’t you come aboard with me and you can take a quick look around the ship. There’s plenty of time before it sails.’
Tariq’s face lit up. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘But what about Rowenna? Won’t she be worried if she comes back and doesn’t see me?’
‘She’ll probably guess you’re on the Ocean Empress. Besides, you’re likely to be back before she is. She can always call us if she’s anxious.’
With that, the trio joined the throng of holidaymakers, many of whom were wearing shorts, flip-flops, sunglasses and great flopping beach hats in defiance of the scudding grey clouds, whipping wind and churning sea. As they crossed the gangplank, Laura felt more cheerful than she had in days. In moments, she’d be on board the Ocean Empress and on her way to the Caribbean. Nothing could stop her now.
She’d have been less happy had she known that, at the precise minute she was presenting her boarding pass to the steward, a man on the jetty was following her progress with binoculars. Had she known who he was, she’d have wondered what the stranger Calvin Redfern had met with in the dead of Thursday night in St Ives’ cemetery was doing at Falmouth Harbour at eight on a Sunday morning.