was killing himself laughing. ‘Can you believe this show!’ he squealed.
Bug, hearing the commotion, bounded into the room, stepping on the remote, changing the channel to the local news station.
The words BREAKING NEWS flashed up on the screen and a wind-blown reporter was standing on Twinford beach talking into the camera.
‘IT HAS JUST COME TO LIGHT THAT THE BODY OF A DIVER HAS WASHED UP ON TWINFORD BAY BEACH.’
Ruby and Clancy sat up.
‘IT IS NOT YET KNOWN HOW THE VICTIM DIED, BUT IT WOULD APPEAR THAT HE WAS JUST AN UNFORTUNATE CASUALTY OF THE SEA’S UNPREDICTABILITY. ALL WE CAN TELL YOU IS THAT THE DECEASED IS MALE AND OF AVERAGE BUILD.’
‘Like I was saying,’ said Clancy, letting out a long breath, ‘the ocean is a dan-ger-ous place.’
Meanwhile,
somewhere off the
coast of Twinford…
It was a glittering day, and it seemed that most of Twinford’s glitteringly wealthy were on-board Freddie and Marjorie Humbert’s sixty-foot yacht, the Golden Albatross.
‘Isn’t this just one hundred per cent perfect?’ said Sabina Redfort, smiling.
‘More than that,’ said Brant Redfort. ‘It’s at least two hundred per cent perfect!’
‘Perfect is perfect,’ said Ambassador Crew. ‘No more, no less.’
‘Exactly,’ agreed Sabina. ‘It’s double perfect.’
Ambassador Crew rolled his eyes heavenwards. He found the Redforts very agreeable company, but frustratingly dim. Just how Brant Redfort had ever got into Stanton University he could not imagine.
It was the invitation of the season: a mini cruise around the Twinford coast, sailing the passengers as far as the Sibling Islands, taking in sights most Twinfordites rarely if ever got to see. It had been set up by the Twinford Historical Society, which for the first time in twenty years had had to turn away applicants – its membership having swelled threefold as soon as it was discovered that the trip involved ten days on-board the Humberts’ luxury vessel.
‘Isn’t it wonderful to see just how many people are actually interested in history?’ said Sabina.
‘Might have something to do with this million-dollar yacht we’re on,’ replied Ambassador Crew. He was a very cynical person.
‘Why, is it old?’ asked Brant. ‘Gee, I didn’t know it was of historical interest.’
‘Give me strength,’ muttered the Ambassador under his breath.
Dora Shoering was giving a series of lectures on the facts, myths and legends relating to smuggling, piracy and long-lost treasure. The facts, it had to be admitted, were few and far between, but no one much minded as it was naturally a glamorous affair and everyone was having an elegant time.
Along with Brant and Sabina Redfort, the guest list included Barbara and Ed Bartholomew, Mr and Mrs Gruemeister and their bothersome dog, Pookie. However, Mrs Crew had declined the invitation due to a horrible problem with seasickness and the Sibling waters were notorious for their restless currents.
Dora Shoering, a self-proclaimed intellectual who had almost attended Berklard as a student, gave a fascinating, if not entirely accurate, series of talks, but it was that Sunday afternoon’s lecture that sparked most chatter.
‘Fascinating,’ said Sabina. ‘I just love the story of the lost treasure of Twinford. Of course, much of it I knew already, because you see it was my ancestor’s treasure that was lost. Did you all know that?’
The others did know this, because Sabina had not stopped repeating it all through the lecture – how her great-great-great-grandmother Eliza Fairbank (she wasn’t sure how many greats) had been lost at sea off Twinford on the way to South America along with all her gems and rubies; only her little daughter Martha survived.
‘Utterly gripping,’ said Marjorie Humbert. ‘Wouldn’t it be divine if it were true?’
‘But there is every possibility that it is true,’ said Dora. ‘Though it has never been proved one way or the other.’
‘Why did no one look for it?’ asked Brant.
‘Well, of course they did,’ Dora replied. ‘But they never found a thing. Plus, they had a few other concerns.’
‘Such as?’ asked Ambassador Crew.
‘A giant sea monster,’ replied Dora. ‘It was said it guarded the treasure, sat on it, they say, and no one could ever retrieve the gems from its razor-sharp talons.’
‘Talons?’ spat the Ambassador. ‘You’re saying that this sea creature was an aquatic eagle-bird?’
Dora looked uneasy: she had made up the bit about the talons. ‘Or crab claws, no one knows,’ she said hurriedly.
Ambassador Crew couldn’t help but display his utter pity for anyone who would believe such total garbage, but the rest of the party was electric with excitement.
‘We should search for it!’ said Brant. ‘Imagine – Sabina coming face to face with her own ancestor’s jewels.’
‘Good luck to you,’ said Ambassador Crew. ‘It would be like trying to find a needle in a haystack. You’d have to search the whole ocean floor just to find the wreck and in these dangerous waters I wouldn’t fancy your chances.’
‘Gracious,’ said Sabina. ‘Sounds like quite a quest.’
‘Exactly!’ said Dora Shoering. ‘It’s no surprise no one’s ever found it.’
‘A nice fairy tale is what it is,’ said Ambassador Crew.
‘Hey, look at that boat on the horizon.’ Barbara Bartholomew was pointing to the south-west. ‘Doesn’t it look romantic against the setting sun?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Sabina, looking at the old-fashioned sailing ship. ‘One could almost imagine oneself back in pirate times.’
THE NEXT MORNING WHEN RUBY REDFORT turned the corner of Amster Street, she walked on past the bus stop, crossed the road and headed for the Double Donut Diner – she figured there was plenty of time to grab a shake and still make the school bus.
It wasn’t that the Double Donut Diner particularly specialised in donuts – it was really because Marla, the owner, thought it was a catchy name and apparently it was because everyone in Twinford seemed to know the Double Donut.
The diner was popular with all sorts of locals and Ruby liked to hang out observing the comings and goings of Twinford folk. It also did particularly good French toast – something Ruby’s mother was very much against due to the
