“It is tempting, I’ve never slept so close to the sea before.”
“Yes!” Sandy claps her hands together.
“But I insist on paying. I’m on a work trip, so they’ll cover the cost.”
Sandy flaps a hand in the air at me, as though to say, “We’ll work all that out later.”
“Then you can come to my party this evening,” says Gerry, “we’ll give you a proper Jersey welcome. I’m having a bit of a do on the beach later. Though I’ll have to start walking down there early, it takes me so long to get anywhere these days. In fact, if the party starts in four hours, I might start walking now.” He opens his mouth into a wide, silent laugh.
“Oh, Gerry, what nonsense. You’re faster than me, you old goose,” says Sandy.
I tell them I wouldn’t want to gate-crash, but Gerry insists. Sandy says I can meet the locals and quiz them on stories about the island for my article. Ted stays quiet, removed from the conversation.
“I would love to stay, as long as Ted doesn’t mind me invading his life like this?”
Sandy gives Ted a long look, but he won’t meet her gaze.
“Oh, I think Ted’s probably very happy about you invading his life—”
A blush creeps up my neck, embarrassed that they might have got the wrong idea.
“Tell Sandy all about your suitcase man, Laura,” says Ted abruptly. “It’s her kind of story.”
Sandy frowns, then looks at me expectantly. I explain about the suitcase, about the objects inside and the clues we’ve been following. As I talk, I see her face take on an expression of disbelief. When I first told Ted about the case, I thought I was having an anonymous conversation with a driver whose name I’d never know and who’d never know mine—I didn’t care what he thought of me. Now, looking across the table at Sandy and Gerry, I find I do care what they think, very much.
“Of course, it only makes sense if you believe in fate and serendipity,” I say, flustered by Sandy’s skeptical expression. “Ted thinks it’s a wild-goose chase.”
Sandy looks to Ted for a reaction, but he is intent on his food.
“Well, even more reason to hang around then, Laura,” says Gerry brightly. “You can invite your mystery man to my party too if you track him down before tonight.”
“Well, I don’t know if I’ve bought enough sausages to feed the entire island,” says Sandy.
“What are you talking about, woman? I’ve never seen a fridge so stuffed full of food,” says Gerry.
“Ted, this really is delicious, thank you,” I say, keen to change the subject. Then I lean in to quietly add, “Would you mind me staying? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“I don’t mind at all,” he says, while inspecting a knot of wood in the table. I notice the tips of his ears have turned red again.
“You’ll stay, it’s settled,” says Sandy. “I’m going to go and get you the key and open the windows, let some air in.”
Sandy gets up and moves to hug Gerry around his shoulders before she leaves, then she glances sideways into the house.
“Oh no!” she cries, running through the French windows. “Scamp, bad dog! Oh, Scamp, you haven’t— Laura, I’m so sorry.”
She comes out holding the tangled remains of the fisherman’s jumper in her hands. One arm looks to have been ripped to pieces, and the bottom is starting to unravel. I clasp both hands to my mouth.
“I don’t know what’s got into him! Gerry, he’s just pinched Laura’s jumper and taken it off to maul it to pieces. He’s a wild animal!” cries Sandy.
“Sorry, Laura, he wouldn’t usually do that, especially not to a woman,” says Gerry.
“Look, Ilídio’s going to change his mind about taking this dog on,” says Sandy, still inspecting the damp lump of wool in her hands.
I look up at Ted, who is trying not to laugh.
“It’s not funny, Ted,” I say, my hands clenched onto the edge of the table.
“It’s not Laura’s jumper,” Ted explains, unable to stifle his mirth. “She borrowed it from her mystery suitcase man.”
“That explains it,” says Gerry. “Scamp probably smelled a rival male in the house, loyal little bugger he is.”
“Scamp is Dad’s dog,” Ted says, “but Sandy and her husband, Ilídio, are taking him in once Dad moves.”
“No dogs allowed in Alcatraz,” Gerry says, in a voice of mock horror.