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“Mia,” Jayne said, standing as she approached the table. “Perhaps we could have a word before we start?”
From the kitchen doors, Charlie was looking at her with concern in his eyes. And Magda was distracting the rest of the committee with questions about drinks and sandwiches. And back at the shop, Ditsy was still answering an endless stream of questions from customers who wouldn’t buy anything, all on her behalf. She had people on her side.
“Of course,” she told the mayor, leading her to a secluded booth in the corner of the restaurant.
Once they were seated, she launched into her defense, figuring it had to be better than listening to the accusations again. “Look, Jayne, I know what people are saying, and I have a suspicion about where they’re getting their information from, and you should know, it’s not to be trusted. My father is here for me. The festival is a complete coincidence.”
Jayne looked as unconvinced as everyone else had, and the cold whisper running across her skin saying it was a very convenient coincidence reminded Mia she really couldn’t blame them for that.
After all, it wasn’t like he hadn’t stolen from them before. And money was tight, he’d admitted to Charlie. And he hadn’t really spent a lot of time trying to win her over, not that she’d have let him.
Mia sighed. “Look, as far as I know, him being in town has nothing to do with the festival. But even if it did, I don’t trust him any more than the rest of you do. He hasn’t been anywhere near the planning for this, let alone the money. Trust me.”
She fell quiet, and waited to hear the sentence. Jayne watched her for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay, then. You know what’s at risk here. And it’s not like I have a lot of other options. Just get it done.” And with that, she left the restaurant, leaving Mia’s racing heart and uneven breathing behind.
Just get it done. Because, really, what else was there to do?
She stood up. “Okay, then, everyone. Are we ready to start?”
* * * *
They were into the final week now, Mia realized the next morning while pacing the sand that would form the main festival site in just six days. Six days to finalize all the planning and negotiating and begging she’d been doing for the last two months.
Six days for her father to ruin it, if he was going to.
“Charlie said you’d probably be here,” George said, and Mia turned to see him standing on the stone steps down from the Esplanade. “I understand some people have got a strange idea in their heads about why I’m in town.” He took the last few steps down to the sand and came to stand beside her. “I’m sorry if my being here has made your life difficult.”
“No more than you leaving in the first place,” Mia said, stepping away to pace the length of the Crooked Fox’s beer tent. “They just think it’s a bit of a coincidence, you coming back broke just when I’m taking charge of the biggest fundraising event this town’s seen since you left.”
“Do you think that?” George asked.
Mia didn’t look at his face as she said, “Well, it’s not like I was expecting you.”
“I came to see you, Mia,” George said, trailing after her when she moved to where the food stalls would be. “Swear to God. My life was falling apart, and the only thing I wanted was to see my little girl again.”
“That’s what I told people.” Mia eyed the planned stage site and wondered if they’d be able to run the electrics far enough. “They just didn’t believe me.”
“As long as you trust me, I don’t care about the rest.”
Mia turned to her father and, just for a moment, forgot about the festival and everything else that had happened to her since the day he left. “If you want me to trust you, tell me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“What did you really take from the safe? Was it money?”
George stared at her with a confused look on his face, and then he laughed. “Money? Is that what they’re saying I took? If only. Would be a hell of a lot more useful right now.”
“More useful than what, exactly?”
Reaching into his jacket pocket, George pulled out a battered old leather journal, tied shut with a black cord, and held it out to her. “A to Z Jones’s journal,” he said, staring at the book rather than her. “Supposed to contain details of all his heists, meeting places, tunnels. Treasure. Not that I ever found any, of course.”
Mia felt the soft cover under her hand and wondered whether the words within it were really worth tearing apart her family. “Is this why you left?”
“I left because I was in love.” George reached out and pressed a gentle hand against hers where it lay on the journal. “I took this because I couldn’t bear to leave it gathering dust in some safe where no one could enjoy it. It couldn’t be authenticated, see. So they wouldn’t let me display it.”
“It’s been in Yorkshire for the last twelve years. No one but you was enjoying it there,” Mia pointed out. “You took it because you thought it might help you find treasure one day.” A terrible thought occurred to her. “That’s why you came back, isn’t it? You think you know where A to Z Jones’s treasure is, and you wanted to keep it for yourself.”
Mia spun away from him and strode toward the Esplanade steps. This day was beyond fired. She was giving up and starting again tomorrow.
“Mia, wait. That’s not it.” George’s voice behind her was easy to tune out; she just concentrated on the sound of the wind and the gulls instead. After all, they’d been with her for twelve years. He’d only been around for a week or two.
She could manage without him, as long as she still had Aberarian.
Chapter 16
Charlie was cashing up from the breakfast crowd when the restaurant doors flew open again, and George Page marched into StarFish.
“I need you to take me somewhere,” he said, his voice firm. “Now.”
“I’m just...”
“Now,” George repeated. Then, in a softer tone, he added, “It’s for Mia.”
Charlie nodded. “Give me five minutes to shut up here,” he said, and went to tell Magda she and Kevin were on their own for lunch.
“Where are we going?” Charlie finally thought to ask as his car pulled onto the main road out of Aberarian.
“Felinfach,” George said. “I need to see the mill place you went with Mia.”
They made good time, unhampered by caravans. George stared out of the window the whole way, and Charlie decided trying to figure out what was going on was probably pointless. He’d just wait until they reached the Mill to find out.
“Where’s the antiques place?” George asked, already half out of the car before Charlie had put the handbrake on.
“Uh, over by the cafe,” Charlie said, and then followed him when he strode off in that direction.
The Mill Antiques was empty when he pushed opened the door, save for George, pushing a leather book across the cash desk at a man Charlie assumed was the owner.
“It’s got to be worth a fair bit, right?” George was saying. “And that’s not counting the possibility of treasure.”
“Treasure?” Charlie asked, coming to stand beside them. “What treasure?”
But neither of the other men were listening to him. “The journal of A to Z Jones,” the shopkeeper said. “Well, yes, if it proved to be authentic, it would certainly be worth a great deal. However... Can I ask how you acquired it?”
Charlie looked at George. He had a horrible suspicion he knew where Mia’s dad had found the journal. And when.
George leaned his hands on the table and loomed over the seated shopkeeper. “Let’s just say a house clearance, for now.”
“So you don’t have anything to prove this definitely once belonged to the famous smuggler?”
“Nothing but the words inside.” George reached forward and flipped through some of the pages, causing the shopkeeper to wince. “Look, I know this game. I know you’re going to gouge me on price because I don’t have any papers or evidence. And then yo
u’re going to turn around and sell it to some American tourist for a tidy profit, and there’ll never be any tests or proof. But it is the real deal. So I suggest you make me a real offer.”
The shopkeeper, Charlie noticed, had yet to take a hand off the journal since George had placed it on the table. He wanted it badly, then. “Actually, George, I saw another antiques shop on our way through Coed-y-Capel. Looked new. They might be a bit more eager to acquire new stock.”
“Wait.” The shopkeeper got to his feet and addressed George. “Why don’t you come into my office, and we can discuss price.”
A vicious grin on his face, George followed the man into a side room, turning once to give Charlie a thumbs-up. Figuring his work there was done, Charlie went to wait in the car.
It was twenty minutes before George joined him, but when he did so, he brought with him a large envelope full of cash.
“What are you going to do with that?” Charlie asked, starting the engine.
George looked surprised. “Give it to Mia, of course.”
* * * *
