Here are the opening pages to Chapter 15. Start looking away now, if you are planning to read the book and don't want any of it given away!
By this stage the children Jack, brother David and sister Emily and their headstrong friend Lou (short for Louise) have come to camp out at a cove adjacent to the main beach at Whistling Sands. They have a fire crackling discreetly away behind tall rocks in the cove and, as the sun starts to go down, are about to take it in turns to go up to the cliff above to look out for signs of smugglers coming in by boat. Lou, the natural leader of the group, is to take first watch:
Chapter Fifteen
SUN GOES DOWN AT WHISTLING SANDS
.... The cove was no longer so warm now and the sun was dropping in the west. Emily pulled out jumpers from the rucksack.
Jack disappeared to stoke up his driftwood fire and throw more sticks on.
Later, when the holidaymakers had gone from the main beach, they would keep watch.
Jack, David and Lou – not Emily because she was too young – would take it in turns to clamber up the slope to the coastal path on sentry duty.
The others would watch from the cove.
‘Remember how easily noise travels at the coast and particularly at night,’ Lou warned the others.
‘David – please – no more shrieking. If another sea-gull lands on you, don’t say anything, or if a crab crawls over you for that matter.’
‘Ooh, crabs,’ exclaimed David. ‘I hope not.’
Everybody laughed, and he shot his once familiar scowl at them all. He still didn’t much like being teased.
‘Listen,’ said Lou, earnestly, ‘the point is we must be totally silent tonight. We must not been seen or heard.
‘If they spot us or hear our voices they will instantly suspect something and will either clear off or come after us.’
Emily glanced at her watch, it was 8.30pm. She decided to make some sandwiches while it was still light.
The girl was a little jumpy now, but determined not to show it. She was sad not to be doing watch duty, but relieved too. Anyway, she could be useful down here, tending the fire and making sure the others were supplied with food and drink.
The children nibbled the sandwiches she made them as shadows lengthened, and the light began to fade.
Lou had packed a watchman’s rucksack containing binoculars, her digital camera, a small but powerful torch, bars of chocolate, a small notepad and pencil.
‘Right. It’s 9pm and I’m going to take the first watch,’ she announced. ‘Jack – you’re to take over in two hours’ time, ok?’ Jack nodded.
In a flash, Lou was gone, bounding up the hillside with the rucksack on her back. A look of apprehension crossed the faces of the others as she disappeared. ‘Come on David, let’s get that fire going again,’ Jack said cheerily.
Before long, it roared upwards. There was certainly no shortage of driftwood, blown in from the sea through the winter months.
They felt better as the flames shot into the darkening blue sky and warm air filled the cove.
Meanwhile, on the cliff-top above was a young girl who feared nothing, least of all being alone in the dark. Lou was at her sharpest when by herself.
She wanted to make full use of the waning light while she could.
She looked out to sea through her binoculars.
The water remained calm although its colours were darkening, becoming a deeper blue, in places purple. The sun was dipping fast to Lou’s left, turning the sky around it a stunning mixture of red and pink streaks and sending forth a final finger of gold in a diagonal line across the water.
Satisfied there was no danger yet out to sea, Lou darted along the coastal path to look down on the main beach.
It had been full of tourists earlier but now just a handful remained. As the sun finally gave up for the day, they got to their feet, brushed off the sand, gave their towels a shake and began to leave.
Lou observed them closely.
The coastal path turned inland above the steep road down to the beach, giving a good bird’s eye view of comings and goings to Whistling Sands.
As the stragglers, stiff from too much sunbathing, plodded across the sand to the road, Lou shadowed from the path above, imagining they were smugglers.
She could see and hear them most of the way back to the car park.
They, on the other hand, had no inkling they were being watched from behind thick shrubs and reeds covering the hillside to their right. The girl turned and gazed back down the beach. Whistling Sands was different with no-one about, it was no longer so cheerful.
In the twilight, the sand was a yellowish grey rather than gold and inviting as before. All around her, tiny moths fluttered among the bushes.
There was scarcely a sound, save for the occasional wail of a sea bird – or was it David – Lou grinned to herself, and a distant murmur of cattle and sheep.
A while later, she looked back out to sea. The water was now purple-black, and the bright white finger of a full moon rippled across it, riding high in a starless sky. Still she saw nothing. Any normal boat would show lights by now, but of course, it was no normal boat they waited for.
