Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
As Clemmie and Oliver sped away from the grand hotel, there was non-stop chatter about the possibilities of what they were going to find.
‘Even if the Royal Yacht is still there, how exactly do we get on board?’
Without taking his eyes off the road, Oliver gave her a smile.
‘I’ve got that covered.’ As they approached the causeway leading to the island, he dialled a number, adopting a polished yet urgent tone.
‘Yes, hello, this is Oliver Lockwood, I believe I may have dropped a rather sentimental cufflink during my last visit aboard the yacht… Yes, quite, a family heirloom. Any chance I could come aboard for a quick look?’ There was a pause, then a polite but hesitant response on the other end.
Oliver leaned into his charm. ‘I’d be ever so grateful.
Wouldn’t want to trouble anyone, of course, but perhaps just a quick check?
Your officer on duty could assist?’ There was another pause before Oliver ended the call with a satisfied nod.
‘We’re in,’ he said, throwing Clemmie a triumphant glance.
‘Now let’s just hope they don’t ask too many questions. ’
When they arrived back on Puffin Island, they headed straight for Blue Water Bay and parked the car. ‘I’m actually shaking.’ Clemmie held out her hand to demonstrate.
‘My heart is beating fast. Are you ready?’
Clemmie looked towards the Royal Yacht. ‘Do you believe in fate?’
‘I do.’
‘Because I think that yacht was stalled for a reason.’
‘I think you may be right. Come on. Let’s see if we can actually get back to the kitchen.’
‘How are we going to know which box it is? Because there were quite a few.’
‘We’ll have to try them all.’
‘I feel like I’m on a secret mission and you’re my wingman.’
‘I like the sound of that,’ replied Oliver as he locked the car and they hurried towards the yacht.
Clemmie’s heart hammered against her ribcage as her heels clicked on the polished wood of the gangplank. Oliver, of course, was the picture of calm, hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored coat, his stride easy, his gaze sweeping ahead.
As they approached the security checkpoint, a uniformed guard straightened, stepping forward to block their path. His name badge read H. Merrick, Chief of Post. The friendly smile on his face told Clemmie that he and Oliver had met before.
‘Oliver,’ Merrick greeted, nodding slightly. ‘Good to see you again. How are you? I hear you’re off to America. Lady Rosalind was telling us all about your next adventure.’
‘Yes, I leave Friday. Merrick is a friend of my grandmother’s – and, of course, Lady Rosalind’s,’ Oliver added for Clemmie’s benefit.
‘Our paths have crossed many times over the years. When I was a little boy, he used to let me run riot around the Royalwood Cottage gardens. Once, I even managed to capsize a rowing boat on the royal lake, after sneaking out past my bedtime. Merrick fished me out and got me back in bed before anyone even noticed I was missing.’
Clemmie laughed. She knew exactly what Oliver was doing, laying on the charm so no one would suspect they were here for anything more than a lost cufflink.
‘Honestly, as a young lad, you kept me on my toes,’ Merrick chuckled.
‘Thankfully, I’m due to retire soon, so my days of rescuing boys from boats will finally be over.
It’s just been radioed through that you’ve lost a cufflink on board the yacht.
We’ve checked thoroughly, but nothing has been found.
You’re welcome to take another look though. ’
‘Ah, thank you, Merrick,’ Oliver said, feigning relief. ‘That cufflink is something of a lucky charm, so I’d rather not leave without it.’
Merrick stepped aside without another word and waved them through.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Oliver grinned. ‘Well, that worked, didn’t it?’
They hurried down the corridors, their steps muffled by the plush navy carpet beneath them. The walls gleamed with polished mahogany, oil paintings of past monarchs watching them as they wove their way deeper into the ship.
‘You do know we’ll be caught on CCTV?’ Clemmie whispered, glancing over her shoulder.
‘Possibly,’ Oliver admitted. ‘But let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.’
She didn’t argue, pressing forward until Oliver suddenly stopped in front of a door. He pushed it open.
‘Here we are.’
Clemmie slipped inside, ‘I don’t know how you find your way around. It’s like a rabbit warren.’
In front of them was the large, reinforced cabinet with twenty identical gold boxes, each secured with a combination lock. Clemmie’s stomach was churning. ‘If there is something in the box, what’s the plan?’
‘I’ll stuff whatever it is inside my jacket and we get out of here as fast we can before we do get caught.’
Oliver ran a hand along the locked boxes. ‘Are you sure you want to uncover whatever we might uncover?’
Clemmie hesitated. ‘What more can we actually uncover? I think it will just be the confirmation that the Earl became Arthur Rose after falling in love with my great-great-grandmother. So yes, let’s get that confirmation. We need to be quick.’
‘Then stop talking and start cracking,’ Oliver said, moving to the bottom row. ‘You take the top, I’ll take the bottom.’
Clemmie reached for the first box. She spun the dials quickly. Nothing.
To her left, Oliver was working at a rapid pace, his fingers steady despite the urgency of the moment. She could hear his muttered curses each time a box refused to open. She wasn’t doing much better. The tiny dials felt stiff beneath her fingertips, and her hands kept slipping in her haste.
‘Damn it,’ she murmured, moving to the next one.
Minutes stretched on, as they tried box after box, tripping over their own fingers as frustration mounted.
‘I swear to God,’ Oliver muttered, ‘if this turns out to be some elaborate wild goose chase—’
Click.
Clemmie froze and her breath caught in her throat as the lock mechanism released with a soft metallic snap.
‘Oliver,’ she whispered, her fingers trembling as the lid of the box swung open.
Inside, neatly stacked beneath a layer of velvet, were loose-leaf pages, the edges curled and yellowed with time.
Oliver exhaled. ‘We’ve got it.’
For a second, neither of them moved.
Clemmie looked up at Oliver, her heart hammering with the adrenaline. ‘Now what?’
‘Now we run,’ ordered Oliver.