Chapter Twenty
Ivy burst into the bookshop to find Brooke, looking irritatingly calm, typing on her laptop and eating a scone, with the radio on in the background.
‘Trip’s gone,’ Ivy announced breathlessly.
‘What do you mean, gone?’ said Brooke, setting down her scone and wiping her fingers on a napkin. ‘He was right here, this morning. You artists are very dramatic.’
Ivy drew a deep breath. ‘I mean gone. Vanished, disappeared like a puff of smoke. He is not at the town hall. And before you ask – yes, I already checked the bakery, the pier and The Mariner’s Arms. The play is starting in two hours and he’s the only one people listen to.
I can see the cracks already. The twins are arguing with Merlin about his entrance.
Mr H is panicking about the running order.
No one seems to agree on the latest script.
We need Trip. He would never vanish today of all days. So where is he?’
Brooke shut her laptop and stood, frowning slightly. ‘Maybe he’s gone out to get the cast and crew coffee or something. Some big, cheesy pre-show gesture?’
‘Nope. I’ve tried the Driftwood Café. I’ve asked everybody I can think of and no one has seen him.’ Ivy sighed and flopped down into the nearest armchair. ‘I’ve been calling and texting and nothing. Straight to voicemail. It’s like he’s turned his phone off.’
Brooke grabbed her own phone and pressed dial, then held it to her ear. After a few seconds, she lowered it. ‘He’s not picking up,’ she said slowly.
‘Told you,’ said Ivy, relieved that Brooke might be finally taking it seriously.
There was a pause, filled only by the faint hum of the radio. Then: ‘You don’t think something actually happened to him, do you?’ Brooke asked, her voice quieter now. ‘Like I say, I saw him earlier and he was totally fine.’
‘Totally fine?’ Ivy narrowed her eyes. ‘Was he? Really? You didn’t have, say, a pretty emotional conversation this morning about selling your grandmother’s house?’
Brooke flushed. ‘You were listening?’
‘I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,’ said Ivy, ‘I was out back getting something and then I realised you guys were talking. Trip sounded pretty upset.’
‘Yeah, he was. But it was a conversation we had to have. Trip needs to face reality.’ She chewed her nail. ‘You think he took off because of that?’
‘I don’t know. But it’s weird otherwise, isn’t it? The day of the show. He would never disappear like this without a reason.’
They exchanged a look. ‘You’re right,’ Brooke said at last. ‘We need to go look for him.’ She grabbed her coat. ‘Come on.’
They headed back out on to the streets and searched, more methodically this time under Brooke’s strict guidance.
They re-checked the town hall, the bakery and even the library.
Most shops were closed up as people prepared for the show.
It felt like everyone in Fox Bay was in the town hall – except Trip.
‘Let’s head down to the beach,’ said Brooke at last. ‘Maybe he’s meditating or doing yoga and is totally oblivious.’
The walk along the harbour was quiet. On the beach, both of them scanned the coastline. But there was no sign of a familiar figure, bouncing along petting dogs and chatting to anyone he could find.
Brooke stopped. ‘Okay, so he’s not at the beach, the pub, the bakery, the town hall or the library. Fox Bay is like a ghost town today so we’re running out of options. Where else?’
Ivy bit her lip. ‘He’s thinking about your grandma a lot. Was there anything special they liked to do together?’
Brooke smiled faintly. ‘It’s hard to narrow that down to be honest. Grandma would say yes to literally anything Trip wanted to do. She used to pick him up after school and just drive. No map, no plan. She’d always say that the best days started with a detour—’
‘Ivy! Brooke!’
Old Bill, his flannel shirt flapping in the breeze like a flag, waved them over. He was breathless from walking fast.
‘I heard you were looking for Trip and figured it might be worth my saying,’ he puffed. ‘My boat’s gone.’
Brooke blinked. ‘Gone? As in … it’s been stolen? Don’t tell me Fox Bay has actual crime.’
‘Borrowed,’ Bill corrected, wheezing as he got his breath back. ‘Sometimes things get borrowed. And I’m pretty sure whoever borrowed my boat was Trip.’
Ivy’s eyes widened. ‘Trip? Why do you think that?’
‘Well, I told him he could take it out whenever he wanted, you see,’ said Bill. ‘And I saw him walking along the harbour earlier. Seemed quiet. Not his usual self.’
Brooke groaned. ‘He borrowed a boat? Why on earth …?’
Ivy’s gaze drifted out over the water, towards the curve of the bay where the small, green, tree-covered islands rose from the sea.
‘Where do you think he went?’ she asked. ‘Did he go back to Seal Island for some reason?’
‘Nothing much out there apart from that,’ said Bill. ‘Aside from Mystery Island, of course.’
Ivy said slowly, ‘Mystery Island.’ She turned to Brooke. ‘Trip and your grandma loved adventures, right? Well, what could be more adventurous than an excursion to Mystery Island?’
‘But it doesn’t exist, right?’ Brooke said, looking confused. ‘It’s just another one of Bill’s stories.’
Bill chuckled behind them. ‘Oh, it exists all right.’ He squinted at the late-afternoon sun. ‘But if you want to get to Mystery Island, you’d better start now.’
‘How come?’ Ivy said.
‘It only appears at low tide.’
Brooke spluttered indignantly, pulling up her iPhone notes.
‘But – but you told Kate it’s a ghost isle that only appears at the full moon, for other ghostly smugglers to hide their whisky, if they chant the name of Davy Jones!
And now you’re saying you can get there in the middle of the day? By regular boat?’
Bill looked sheepish. ‘Well. I may have embroidered the truth a little. It’s not even really an island, to be honest.’ He shrugged. ‘Just a promontory round the southwest side of Seal Island. It’s rarely above water, which is why it’s hidden – but it would be about now.’
‘Did you happen to tell Trip any of this?’ Ivy pressed.
‘Hm.’ Bill considered. ‘May have given him a little hint. He was always asking a lot of questions.’
Ivy looked back at the water. Trip was hurting, she was sure of it. He was alone. And he couldn’t miss the show he’d worked so hard on.
‘Brooke, are you up for a sail?’
Brooke exhaled. ‘Fine. If you really think Trip’s out there – and let’s face it, taking an impromptu trip to a hidden island sounds exactly like the sort of thing he’d do – then yeah. Let’s go get him.’
Ivy turned to Bill. ‘Can we borrow your back-up boat?’
Bill grinned. ‘Thought you’d never ask.’
They dragged the spare boat, a marginally more modern vessel than Bill’s old one, out to sea, Ivy’s teeth chattering as they waded into the icy water. Brooke hopped in elegantly, then held out a manicured hand to Ivy, hauling her into the boat.
‘You’re rowing, by the way,’ Ivy said. ‘One of us works out and it’s not me.’
Brooke smirked. ‘Rowing is all about teamwork, Ivy. And besides, this was your idea.’
A few minutes later, with both of them pulling on the oars, the little boat was speeding – or rather, lurching – out to sea. The sea was peaceful, but Brooke’s rowing technique was decidedly aggressive, while Ivy was struggling with the heavy oars.
‘Can you put a bit more effort in, Ivy?’ said Brooke. ‘Come on. Focus. Work smarter, not harder.’
‘How do we steer this thing?’ Ivy hissed, water splashing up her arm and soaking her jacket. ‘How are we going to aim for a hidden island that only appears at certain times of the day if we can’t co-ordinate?’
‘If you would just slow down and concentrate,’ Brooke said, maddeningly, ‘then we’ll find this place just fine.’
But doubts were flooding in thick and fast now. What if Trip wants to be alone? Ivy thought anxiously. What if he doesn’t want us to find him? What if he’s angry with me?
When Seal Island finally came into view, quiet and green, they stopped rowing, catching their breath.
‘I swear,’ Brooke muttered, scanning the shore, ‘if he’s over there chatting to the seals, perfectly fine, I’m going to make him swim back.’
But Ivy caught the note of worry in her voice again.
‘According to Bill, Mystery Island is just round there,’ Ivy said, brushing thick waves of hair out of her eyes. ‘Ready for the final push?’
Brooke nodded. ‘Come on. And let’s synchronise this time, for God’s sake.’