Page 2 of Fiendish Delights
He blinked again and shook away the last of the sand. ‘It’s fine. Honestly. And look.’ He pointed at the sand crater. ‘Look at that.’
I followed his finger. In the very centre of the hole there was the glint of gold. I peered more closely. Yep, that was a ring. Triumph flooded me.
‘Well done, Daisy,’ Otis wheezed. ‘You found it after all.’
Hester scowled. ‘Big deal.’
I pumped the air with my fist, strode towards the ring and scooped it up. It was a minor success but I’d absolutely take it. ‘Come on,’ I said, grinning widely at the brownies. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
‘We’re not going to get rich from jobs like this.’ Hester was still intent on complaining when we finally arrived home with a very small reward from Trish York safely in my back pocket.
‘We’ve been through this, Hester. The financial reward wasn’t why I took that job. Mrs York wasridiculously happy to get her ring back, and if she leaves a review it’ll be more than worth the hours spent on Longniddry beach.’
It was true. The more reviews and testimonials I garnered, the more chance I had of being hired for a real treasure hunt by someone with a lot of money behind them. Frankly, reviews were worth their weight in gold – no pun intended.
One day I hoped to have enough resources and access to establish my own treasure hunts, but for now I was relying on the information and requests provided by other people. I couldn’t afford to spend the better part of a year researching dusty archives for details of potential lost treasure. But in the future anything was possible and, bottom rung of the ladder or not, I wouldn’t allow myself to be anything other than optimistic about what lay ahead.
‘You should write to Sir Nigel again. He might give us some real work,’ Hester instructed me.
‘He’s out of the country.’ I started to peel off my damp – and, yes, smelly – coat. I’d be finding grains of sand in my clothes for weeks if not months, no matter how many times I washed them. Sand was sneaky like that.
‘You could approach Hugo?—’
I interrupted her. ‘No.’
‘But—’
‘No.’
Otis smiled nervously. ‘I think Hester is right. You could give him a call and see if?—’
‘No!’
He flinched. I drew in a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, that was harsher than I intended. We don’t need help from the likes of Hugo Pemberville. We’re freelance. We’re not beholden to anyone else and we’re not going to be.’
The last thing I wanted was for Hugo to know how much I was struggling in my new career. While I appreciated every singlesuccess, no matter how minor, I was certain he’d laugh at my meagre accomplishments. And for complex reasons I didn’t fully understand and couldn’t articulate, I didn’t want him to see me as a failure. Besides, I hadn’t spoken to him for weeks and our paths might never cross again – we didn’t exactly move in the same circles. ‘We can do this ourselves.’
Otis nodded. ‘Yes, Daisy. Of course we can. You’re right.’
Hester rolled her eyes. ‘No, Daisy. We can’t. You’re wrong.’
I wet my lips. Cumbubbling bollocks. Perhaps I should listen to her.
‘Okay,’ I conceded, prepared to compromise. ‘I promise I won’t take on any more small lost-and-found jobs for the time being. I’ve saved enough to tide us over for a few weeks, so we won’t undertake any hunts unless both the reward and the treasure are substantial. I’ll extend my advertising to the classifieds in at least one national newspaper, and I’ll see who else I can contact at the British Museum for leads.’ I paused and eyed both brownies. ‘Is that good enough?’
Otis looked relieved while Hester blew out air loudly. ‘Finally. No more selling yourself short, Daisy. You’re a skilled treasure hunter who should be searching for extraordinary items. From now on, we seek nothing less than a chest full of precious jewels and shiny gold,’ she said firmly.
Chance would be a fine thing. Fortunately, for the sake of my sanity and Hester’s mood, there was a knock at the door which prevented me suggesting there was a world of difference between optimism and fantasy.
I kicked off my wet trainers, ignored the damp discomfort of my socks, ambled down the corridor and opened the front door. Then I stared. Oh. While I hadn’t been expecting anyone in particular, I certainly hadn’t anticipated the caller being a child. In my experience, people under the age of twelve were strangeand unpredictable and it was wise to avoid them whenever possible.
‘Hi.’ I tried not stare too obviously at the girl. Her limpid brown eyes were astonishingly large, and she was swamped by the huge puffer jacket she was wearing. I glanced beyond her for any sign of a parent or guardian, but she appeared to be alone.
‘Are you the hunter elf lady?’ she asked with a faint, audible wobble.
There was an odd prickle on the back of my neck. ‘Yes,’ I said cautiously. ‘Who are you?’
‘Sophia.’
