StillWaters:Book4oftheSophieGreenMysteries (8 page)

Maybe all those cliff top walks with Dad and Norma Jean are behind my fear of heights. I don’t know. I was standing well away from the edge.

I’d been here before, when I was quite small, but it had been raining then and we’d not bothered to go up to the actual English Heritage site. But today I’d blackmailed Luke: take me there, or I won’t tell you what happened in the cave.

He looked sulky, but eventually, after insisting I was to be allowed nowhere near
anything
that controlled
anything
in the car, he agreed. I took him to Pengenna’s Cornish pasty shop for lunch, and we sat on a bench overlooking the cove, eating the best pasties in the world.

“Well?” Luke said, not trying very hard to hide his impatience.

“Well, what?”

“You know what. What happened on Saturday night?”

I took a leisurely bite of my pasty. You have to be careful with a Cornish pasty, or the pastry breaks away and the vegetables (for I had not, of course, ordered a traditional pasty) fall all over the floor.

“I went down to the cave,” I said. “With a torch and good walking boots and Norma Jean.”

“Surely you didn’t take her for safety reasons?”

“Well, she could probably lick an intruder to death. Choke them with blonde hair. I took her for company, Luke; it’s less scary with someone as silly as her around.”

“Of course.”

I took another bite. Luke narrowed his eyes at me. “Sophie…”

“All right, okay. I was in the cave, I think I was looking at the hooks on the ceiling. There’s a row of them, going right back. I was going to follow them, I think I’d reached maybe the third or fourth one—I couldn’t see how many there really were, because it really was black in the back of that cave. And I thought I heard someone behind me, but I guessed it was Norma so I ignored it. She was nosing around a dead crab or something gross. I didn’t look too clearly. And then…” I tried to remember. “There was a shadow, and you know how you know when there’s someone there? I—I think I turned around, and then…”

I tried to remember, I really did, but nothing came. My mind was blank.

“There was someone there,” I said, staring hard at the sea, seeing nothing. “Something hit my head, I don’t remember…”

Luke touched my hand, and I looked round at him. I’d almost forgotten he was there.

“What do you remember?” he asked, quietly.

“I—there was someone there, and… I remember…something hit my head.” I touched the bruise under my hair. It had hurt that morning when I was shampooing, but I’d ignored it. Seaweed-free hair was more important.

“Someone hit you? Sophie, this is—” Luke began, but I looked at him sharply, and he stopped. “Okay, you know what it is.”

“Bad.”

“Uh-huh.”

I sighed. “Why are people always trying to kill me? I’m a nice person. I have a rescue cat. I give money to charity. I hardly ever shoot people…”

Luke laughed gently. “I think it’s the ‘hardly ever’ that does it.”

I scowled.

“You get involved,” Luke said simply. “You’re a nosy cow, and you’re always looking into things people don’t want you to see.”

I sniffed. “Not my fault I’m a nosy cow.”

“I think it’s one of your best attributes,” Luke said gravely, and I smiled a little.

We sat there for a while, looking out at the sea, Luke’s thumb stroking the back of my hand. It was cold, and I was glad I had my scarf and hat on. My gloves had been shoved in my pockets while I ate, and I could feel exactly how lightly Luke was torturing my hand with his fingers.

“Sophie?”

I felt dreamy. His fingers were good.

“Mmm?”

“I’m sorry I called you stupid.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

“You’re not stupid. You’re reckless and foolish and you never think things through—”

“You really do suck at apologies, don’t you?” I looked over at him, and he had the grace to look embarrassed.

“Sorry.”

“So you should be.”

I made the mistake of glancing at his face again, and then I caught his gaze and couldn’t let it go. Luke slipped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me to him, but instead of the kiss I was expecting—wanting—he pressed his lips into my hair.

I was glad I’d washed it.

“You still smell like seaweed,” he said, and I pulled away sharply.

“And a hundred other things not to tell a girl. Are you ready to go?”

Luke nodded and stood, and I threw my pasty wrapper into the bin and trudged off towards the path that led down to the bay. My hair smelled like seaweed. Huh!

I surreptitiously pulled a few strands in front of my nose. It smelled of Maria’s pretty herbal shampoo. It smelled
nice
!

Stupid Luke.

I found myself stomping down the steep path so hard my knees were jarring. Well, that was because my DMs had gone the same way as my chocolate jeans. Stupid jeans. Stupid sea.

Luke caught up with me. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“You’re striding.”

No, I was stomping. There’s a difference. “Why is everywhere in Cornwall so bloody steep?”

“I think it’s supposed to be charming.”

“Be a hell of a lot more charming if they’d let us bring Ted down here. He is
Top Gear’s
Greatest Car. I should be allowed to drive him down here. After all, aren’t I injured?”

“I’m still not very clear on that,” Luke said. “Maria wouldn’t let me look.”

I’m afraid I blushed.

The old hall of the castle was on the mainland so we went there first and read all the signs about what it used to be. My romantic Arthur and Guinevere dreams were dashed, however, when I read that this castle was thirteenth century, and I tugged Luke towards the Dark Age remains on what the guidebook called the Island.

It wasn’t really an island, but the only way to reach it was by a narrow wooden bridge over a neck of rocks and crashing waves. I reached the other side and clung to the rock face and the steep steps going upward.

“It’s not even that high.” Luke laughed at my terror.

“Oh yeah? I’ll push you over, see how you like it.”

In the cove I could see lots of little caves, and I dimly remembered that one of them was a tunnel. Something to do with Merlin. All I could recall was that last time I’d come here I’d tried to climb over the rocks while holding onto Norma’s lead and trying to stop her tripping everyone up. Needless to say, I ended up with a face full of sea water.

I seemed to be making a habit of it.

It was a beautiful clear, crisp day, but high up like we were, and so close to the sea, the wind was fierce and any conversation was blown away, fast. For which I was grateful. My head was full of drownings and caves and rocks and people stalking me and Luke.

And Luke.

Dammit. Just when I thought I maybe might be able to perhaps start thinking about…suggesting we stopped…dancing around each other and actually, possibly, for instance started…talking about…
maybe
getting back together…he had to go and say something like “You still smell like seaweed.”

Bastard.

“Who’s St. Juliot?” Luke asked, cutting through my inner monologue.

“What?”

He gestured to the ruins in front of us. “St. Juliot. The chapel was dedicated to him. Her. Who do you think—?”

But then he broke off, listening, looking around. I looked around too—from the Island you could see everywhere, in all directions, but all I could see was sea on most sides and craggy land on the other. Nothing new. Nothing of interest. There weren’t even any other tourists up here today.

“What?” I asked (again), but Luke held up a hand for silence. I listened carefully. “Luke, it’s just a plane.”

“Yeah, but I’m trying to tell what kind.”

Pilots.

“You’re such an anorak,” I told him, and turned to walk off down the path to the next ruin, but Luke caught me and snapped me to him.

“I’m an anorak?”

He was awfully close.

“Yeah,” I said, trying not to gulp. I’d almost forgotten how strong he was. A girl could worry about his intentions if she didn’t trust him.

Do I trust him?

“Would an anorak do this?” Luke said, and kissed me beautifully, framed by the cliff top and the sea and the hard, fierce salt air, kissed me until I was clinging to him, weaker and dizzier than I’d been since they pulled me out of the sea. God, listen to me, I’m like a gothic heroine, all weak and girlie and succumbing.

But you know, it’s not easy to feel weak and girlie when you’re five foot ten. Luke appeared to be good for me.

“That’s cheating,” I told him when I could breathe again. This felt like quite a long time later. He was still holding me very close.

“Why is it cheating?”

“You said I smelled like seaweed.”

“Wishful thinking,” Luke said, and I frowned, but before I could ask what he meant he was kissing me again, and I decided I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything at all, so long as he was kissing me. Or touching me. Or—well, doing whatever he wanted to me. I’m sure you don’t need a picture.

At first, I thought it was blood pounding in my ears, and then I started to panic that it was my heart, so unused to anything this exciting that it was hammering fast enough to hum.

And then I realised it was the plane, or whatever Luke had been listening to. He broke the kiss, letting the cold wind blow between us, chilling my lips, and looked off towards the land side of the island.

“Sweet fuck,” he murmured, and I replied dreamily, “If you like.”

“No,” he laughed a little, turning me in his arms. “Look.”

A helicopter was coming towards us, really low against the land, one of those huge ugly military ’copters with two sets of blades. The noise was deafening. We stood and watched it come closer, swaying above the cliff top, then it gingerly came to a rest on land.

I stared. Luke stared. And then the door opened and I nearly fell over in shock. Luke had to tighten his arms around me to keep me on my feet.

Mmm.

“Maria?” Luke said in confusion, watching her hop out of the ’copter.

“Did she even come home last night?” I asked.

“She called after you went to bed. Said she was staying out. She didn’t say where…”

“I thought there was no phone signal in the village?”

“There’s a land line, sweetheart. Maria.” He raised his voice as she ran under the blades to us. “What the hell—?”

She grinned, shoving back the dancing strands of hair that framed her face. “Pulled in a favour.”

“That ’copter says RNAS Culdrose. What kind of favour do they owe you?”

“Okay, so I just asked nicely.”

“For them to lend you a helicopter? I didn’t even know you could fly one…”

I tapped his arm, which was still around my shoulders, holding me back against him. “She didn’t,” I said, pointing to the figures visible through the cockpit window. “Maria, what’s going on?”

Two guys in fatigues spilled out of the helicopter and jogged towards us.

“Karen wants to see us. Says it’s urgent.”

“But—” I looked back at Luke, “—right now? All our stuff, Ted, and Norma…”

“I packed up all your stuff,” Maria said. “At least, I think I did. It’s in there.” She gestured to the helicopter. “Norma too. She doesn’t like flying.”

What a surprise. “What about Ted?”

The Culdrose guys had reached us now. “Who’s Ted?”

“My car…”

They exchanged a glance. “Where is it?”

“What make and model?”

I was too confused to reply, so Luke did it for me. “He—
it’s
in the car park at the top of the castle path. Green Land Rover Defender. Probably used to belong to you guys anyway.”

“We’ll take care of it,” we were assured. “Now, if you could get into the helicopter? We have a very small window here.”

Still not a hundred percent sure what was going on, I stumbled after Luke and Maria under the blades, which were warming up again, and climbed into the cabin of the helicopter. It was pretty big, and there were several rows of seats. I took a seat between Luke and Maria, buckled myself in, and let Luke put his arm around me. I was suddenly tired, and he was warm and sure, and I fell asleep with his shoulder as a pillow.

“How’s she been?”

“Oh, you know.”

“Actually, no, I never nearly drowned.”

“Me neither. She’s been okay. I think.”

“You think?”

“We’re not exactly on very even terms here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I felt the movement under my head. Luke was shrugging.

“I dunno. Sometimes it’s normal, a lot of the time it’s bloody awkward, sometimes I…”

“What?” Maria asked, her voice low under the hum of the helicopter blades.

“I dunno. Nothing.” But his arm tightened around my shoulders.

Maria made a sound of impatience, and I knew how she felt. I’d been dozing for most of the flight, but something in this conversation pulled me out of unconsciousness. Possibly the feeling they were talking about me. Or Luke’s quiet, earnest tone of voice. Or maybe just my inner nosiness radar.

“I saw you kissing,” Maria said, sounding amused.

“So?”

“That was a
Gone With The Wind
kiss. That should have been on the end credits of a movie.”

“I can kiss Sophie if I want.”

And please, want to.

“What about the other night?”

Luke shifted under me. Honestly, did he really think I was still asleep? “What night?”

“When you were in bed together? That was more than kissing.”

“Actually, that was less than kissing. No kissing went on.”

“Just full sex?”

“No! God, Maria, I do have some self control.”

Maria muttered something that I didn’t hear above the noise of the helicopter, but I swear I heard my name.

“Shut up,” Luke said. He moved a bit more, and then he said, “We’re going down.”

“In private, please.”

Luke ignored that—at least, he didn’t say anything but I’m almost sure he’d have given her a dirty look—and stroked back the hair from my face.

“Sophie? Wake up. We’re landing.”

I opened my eyes and Luke smiled. Boy, I could get used to seeing that first thing.

No, wait, I
did
get used to it. I think that’s part of the problem.