What Happens In Cornwall...

Beppe grunted sympathetically. ‘I know, I know. That’s what I told them, but what can you do? The boss says go to England, so we go to England.’

‘But I don’t want to.’ Giancarlo hammered his fist down on the tabletop. It landed with a heavy thud that drew the attention of the other customers around them. In so doing, his knuckles caught the teaspoon lying beside his cup and sent it spinning across the terrace. The thwack as it caught the elbow of the matronly Dutch lady on the end table drew even more attention, as did her squeal of protest. Beppe screwed up his face in silent rage.

‘Giancarlo, would you please stop behaving like a little child. We’ve had our orders and that’s that.’ He waved apologetically at the Dutch lady who was huffing and puffing indignantly. ‘Now, I want you to book the tickets and rent us a car. Can you do that? There are flights from Fiumicino to a place called Bristol. That should only be a few hours’ drive from the island. Book us on a flight before the end of the month. I want to be settled in there when the target gets there, if she isn’t already there.’

Giancarlo sipped his espresso and nodded. ‘Yes, I can do that, if I must.’ He was still fuming. ‘I’m still going to speak to my dad about this.’

‘You do that, sunshine. You won’t get far, I can tell you.’ Beppe drained his glass of wine and beckoned to the waitress. She came over, but Beppe saw that her attention was on the boy, not him. His eyes followed hers across the table towards Giancarlo. ‘You want another coffee? No? OK,’ He looked up. ‘Just another glass of red.’

Giancarlo watched the waitress walk away, an expression of aesthetic appreciation on his face. He turned back to Beppe. ‘So what’s so special about this island? Rock Island?’

Beppe went on to tell him about the target. Giancarlo’s eyes widened as he heard the name of Ann Cartwright. ‘Now there’s one exceptionally beautiful woman.’

‘She’s English, Giancarlo. I thought you just said they were all horrible.’

‘The exception that proves the rule. Maybe she’s got Italian blood in her.’ Giancarlo grinned across at him. ‘Or maybe she needs a bit of Italian in her. Now I could think of…’

His musings were interrupted as the waitress returned with the glass of red wine for Beppe. As she set it down Beppe noticed that her attention was still quite clearly directed at Giancarlo. He picked the drink up and swallowed half, then set it down and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. ‘You smoke?’

Giancarlo shook his head. ‘No, and you shouldn’t either. They’re bad for your health.’

‘So’s spending the summer in England, but what can you do?’ He lit the cigarette, breathed in deeply and took a closer look at his companion-to-be for the next month. The boy was tall and slim, quite good-looking in a juvenile way. His clothes were expensive, but with his old man’s money, he could afford to dress in style. From the way he was studying the waitress’s bottom, he clearly wasn’t gay. ‘You got a girlfriend at the moment?’

‘Yes, have you?’

‘No, my wife might object.’ In fact, Beppe thought to himself, she would probably die of surprise. He reached down, undid the top button of his trousers then took another pull at the red wine. The boy was grinning as he leant forward in conspiratorial fashion.

‘To tell the truth, I’ve got a couple of girls on the go at the moment.’ Beppe looked at him with new respect. Giancarlo returned his attention to the waitress until she disappeared back inside the café. He was thinking about the forthcoming trip to England. This made him a bit more reflective. ‘I wonder what English girls are like. I’ve never met any. You’ve been there often enough. You must know.’

‘As far as I remember, you pour drink into them, turn on the charm and they’re anybody’s.’

Giancarlo studied the older man pityingly. ‘You really do have a very cynical attitude towards the opposite sex, you know.’

‘And you think their attitude towards me is any better?’

Giancarlo wasn’t listening. He was watching the waitress. Without taking his eyes off her, he returned to their conversation.

‘So, you ever have an English girlfriend?’

The waitress had realised by this time that Giancarlo’s eyes had zeroed in on her. To Beppe’s surprise, she didn’t seem to mind. She flashed the boy a smile that signalled interest and availability. Beppe was impressed. He glanced across at Giancarlo.

‘You ever have a waitress?’

‘Not until today.’

Chapter 6 (#ulink_04e8df03-4d07-5245-b0fd-fb97979bfb65)

‘Have you ever heard of Rock Island, Sam?’

Samantha looked up in surprise. Virginia had been away at a conference for a few days so Sam hadn’t had a chance to tell her about the trip to Tregossick with Becky yet. It was quite a coincidence that she was asking about the island. Intrigued, Sam adopted a neutral tone. ‘Yes, only quite recently, actually. Why do you ask? What do you know about it?’

‘Not nearly enough. In fact, next to nothing.’ Professor Greenway looked across the table with a little grimace of frustration. ‘The Abbey of Saint Bernard on Rock Island is a mystery. In spite of it being just down the road from here, I’m afraid we know so little about it. So how come you know it?’

Samantha had decided not to mention that she had been rescued by the inhabitants of the abbey. She had made Becky promise not to reveal any details of her moment of peril on the high seas, so she searched for a suitable answer and found it in the book she had been reading since returning to Exeter. ‘Becky and I went to Tregossick last weekend, and you can’t miss the island, stuck right slap bang out there in the bay. Anyway, I was reading Delahaye’s History of the Cistercian Order the other night and I came across a reference to the place. It’s supposed to be one of the best-preserved medieval abbeys left in the country. And the abbey church is virtually unexplored. In fact, I couldn’t find a single photo of the inside.’ She glanced across the lunch table. ‘So why the sudden interest in Rock Island?’

‘I’ve never managed to set foot in the place. It’s not just us from Archaeology. Nobody from the university’s been allowed to see it, not even from Medieval Studies. It’s privately owned and they’ve steadfastly refused to let anybody in, even just to take a casual look.’ Virginia paused and looked up, a sparkle in her eye. ‘But things have changed. I did an internet search and found that it’s been sold.’

Sam did her best to look casual. ‘Sold? So who’s bought it?’

Virginia shook her head. ‘Nobody seems to know. It was sold at auction at the end of last year to an undisclosed bidder. There’s been talk of Branson, pop singers, even some Hollywood stars, but nobody’s got a clue. It went for millions and millions, apparently. Since then it’s supposedly had a major makeover and it’s been turned into some sort of super luxury millionaire’s retreat.’ Sam could see Virginia wince at the thought. ‘God knows what they’ve destroyed while they were doing all the building work. Anyway, I was wondering if maybe the new owner might give us access; maybe even let us do a dig.’ Virginia was sounding quite excited. Sam smiled to herself, reflecting that excitement and archaeology didn’t often go together.

‘So are you going to contact them?’ Sam felt pretty sure she knew what the result of any request was likely to be, but she thought it best to let Virginia find that out for herself.

Virginia nodded vigorously. ‘If there’s a chance of getting onto Rock Island, you bet your life. The only name I’ve got is of a firm of solicitors in Switzerland. They handled the sale, apparently. I’ll try them. I’ll send them a letter on university paper, asking if we could be afforded access. You never know; the new owners might be unaware of the historical significance of what they’ve bought.’

Sam felt like telling her that anybody who was going to shell out millions to buy a chunk of rock in the English Channel would surely have done their research first. Still, true to her promise to the mysterious Ann, she made no mention of what had happened on the island and let her get on with it.

‘In fact, I think I’ll go off and do that this very minute.’ Virginia stood up, waved absently, and headed back to her office. Samantha sat alone for a few minutes finishing her yoghurt.

‘Hi.’

She looked up in surprise. ‘Hello, Neil. What are you doing here?’ He was based in the Physics department and they had their own canteen up there. It was very unusual to see him down here.

He slipped into the seat vacated by Virginia. ‘I thought I’d just come and see if you’d changed your mind about tomorrow.’ He was trying and failing to look nonchalant.

‘Moira’s wedding? No, still the same. We go.’

‘Oh, Sam…’ He really did sound more like a teenager every day. ‘Do I have to?’

She took a deep breath. ‘Yes, you do, Neil. We both do. But why come and bother me on my lunch break? This could have waited.’

‘It’s just that I won’t be back till late tonight.’ In response to her raised eyebrows, he explained. As he did so, any remaining vestiges of nonchalance fell away. ‘We’re all going to a club. There’s a rugby night at the Green Bottle Club. All the locals will be there.’

‘When you say, all? Do you mean you want me to come too?’

He was quick to reply. ‘Oh no. Not at all. I mean local players. Tonight’ll be just blokes.’

She sighed. ‘Well, just don’t drink too much. The wedding’s tomorrow and we’ve got to be there early afternoon. I don’t want to have to prop you up during the ceremony.’

‘Couldn’t you go on your own and say I’m not feeling very well?’

‘Considering half the town’s going to see you looking fit and healthy out and about tonight, I would say that’s a definite non-starter. No, just accept the fact that we’ve said we’ll go and so we’re going.’

‘Oh, Sam, for Christ’s sake!’ He puffed with frustration, grunted and left the table.

Chapter 7 (#ulink_0bada561-9846-501f-babf-f67e3c590a5d)

Seeing as the sun was shining, Samantha chose to have her lunch outside in the university grounds the following Monday. Now that all the undergrads had left for the summer it was quiet on campus, and she had a whole bench to herself on the hillside. Behind her, the ever-growing sprawl of university buildings covered everything as far as the eye could see. Ahead of her lay the city of Exeter, the old cathedral standing proud in its midst. Beyond that was the estuary and she could just glimpse the sea in the distance. It was a sparkling clear day and the sun was warm enough to make her glad she had put sun cream on her nose.