Nicks set her jaw and rested her chin in her hand. She sighed. When it came to Coral, the chances of finding something out of the ordinary were usually rather good. Drama and her best friend went together like salt on a sea breeze. And of course Nicks knew exactly what was coming next.
“There’s only one thing for it,” declared Coral. “We must track poor heartbroken Sam down and help him – or her – find love again!”
Nicks groaned. She really had hoped to make the Spikers their priority. Sunday Harbour depended on it.
Chapter 4
love in Many languages
Coral Hut always looked its brightest and most beautiful first thing in the morning. The pale-gold early sunlight shone down on the beach like a light from heaven and the hut’s yellow, mint-green and pale pink painted stripes sparkled like sugar crystals in the glow.
Inside the hut, the girls sat perched on the daybed – one at each side – surrounded by cool, whitewashed walls and pretty patterned rugs and cushions. Romeo and Miss Honey lay cuddled up near the door, enjoying the beachy views.
“We really do have a lot to do,” said Coral thoughtfully.
Nicks was busy making notes but paused to nod. “Yup, we have two rather complex Cupid Company cases. Now, what are we going to do about Cecily and the Spikers?”
Both girls fell silent. Nicks tapped her pen. Coral chewed her thumb. Nicks scratched her head. Coral exhaled loudly and stared through the open door at the small, curling waves crashing on the beach.
A tall, athletic young man appeared, running along the sand with a bright orange towel hanging around his neck. He stopped with his back to Coral Hut, put the orange towel on the sand and immediately waded into the ocean. And then he was gone, swimming freestyle and cutting through the waves in the direction of the horizon. He was obviously a very good swimmer and was a small speck in no time at all.
“Maybe we should concentrate on the mystery of Sam first?” Coral finally suggested.
Nicks nodded her agreement. “Let’s begin by analysing the letter for clues to Sam’s identity.”
But Coral was one step ahead of her friend and had already got the letter open. She scanned its contents before speaking. “Mmm, so CBA used to live in Sunday Harbour but has now moved far away.”
Nicks stared at her detective friend. She had clearly been hoping for more than that.
“But is CBA a man or a woman?” she asked. “Because Sam could be a woman or a man too.”
“Oh, CBA is definitely a woman,” announced Coral with conviction as she held the letter up to Nicks. “See, patterned paper. And look at the writing – it’s pretty and wavy. Also, ‘discovering yourself’ is more of a female thing to do. And as for keeping ‘those memories alive in my heart’ – that’s a woman’s touch too.”
Coral hadn’t proved a thing, but what she was saying did make sense.
“I agree,” replied Nicks. “CBA is probably a woman. And I think she – and Sam – are both older because only old people talk about ‘not getting any younger’. And young people don’t think about meeting in the next life; they’re too busy with this one. As for ‘Mr Morris Minor’, CBA clearly states that he’s old too. Old people have old friends.”
Coral considered this for a silent moment and bobbed her head up and down. And then her face crumpled. “So Sam is a lonely old man,” she whispered. “How sad.”
But Nicks was still focused on the facts. “We’re really not much closer to finding out who Sam is though.”
“Maybe the coin—” began Coral. And then she stopped. She’d just been blinded by a giant roll of aluminium foil walking right past the hut. Nicks had seen it too. Both girls jumped up and tiptoed across the floor as if it was made of hot coals. Stopping at the door, they stared for a few silent moments.
It wasn’t a walking roll of aluminium foil but a small woman wearing a shiny, silver-quilted tracksuit. She looked older than their parents but younger than their grandparents, and her skin was tanned with deep wrinkles that looked like cracks in the mud at the bottom of a dried-up river.
The silver and brown woman hadn’t noticed the girls. Quietly, she climbed the stairs and unlocked the door to the neighbouring red beach hut which had recently acquired a plywood FOR RENT sign. The hut had been sitting empty ever since their previous neighbours, Malcolm and Meredith, had left for their honeymoon.
Suddenly Romeo gave a short, sharp bark. He’d also noticed their new neighbour. The silver and brown woman heard the bark and quickly glanced over at Coral Hut, while Miss Honey simpered at Romeo as if he was the bravest dog in the world.
“Howdy, neighbours!” the woman cried out, waving.
Coral and Nicks were still mesmerised.
“Hiya,” they finally managed in reply.
“Gorgeous day, darlings!” she added as she yanked the FOR RENT sign from the deck post and snapped it in half over her knee.
“Yes, gorgeous…” they echoed.
“Give me five minutes – let me get settled,” added the woman, “and then why don’t you mosey on over for a pot of herbal, alrighty?” She flashed them a grin, her white teeth appearing luminous next to her suntan. Her cropped hair was also white, although it was difficult to tell if it was naturally white or bleached that way.
“Uh yeah… sure…” mumbled the girls together, even though they had no idea what a pot of herbal might be. But they waited the required five minutes – their Cupid Company business entirely forgotten – before ‘moseying’ on over.
The red beach hut was definitely changed since they had last visited Malcolm and Meredith there. Now the walls were covered in canvas squares of art in very bright colours. There was an easel in one corner and a long, narrow table in the other. The table was cluttered with tubes of paint, jars of brushes, a sketching pad, a couple of oil lamps, a small gas stove with a battered metal teapot and a basket of mismatched canisters and containers. The artworks were all paintings of animals of every kind – from an albatross to a zebra and almost every beast in between.
“Do you like them?” asked the woman as she stared up at the paintings lovingly.
The girls were surprised by the question.
“Oh yes!” replied Coral.
“We love animals, definitely.”
“We even have a dog called Romeo. Well, two dogs—”
But the woman interrupted Coral with another question. “Kumquat or acai?”
Coral looked confused for a moment. “Er, Romeo is a Jack Russell Terrier actually.”
The woman giggled at this. “No, silly. I mean would you like kumquat or acai tea. I make my own exotic herbal and fruit teas.”
The girls shrugged. They’d never tried a kumquat or an acai-thingie so it really made no difference.
“I’m Zephyr, by the way,” said the woman, who now had her nose buried in one of the canisters from the basket.
The girls stared silently, and practised mouthing her strange-sounding name – Zefer… Zef-er…
The woman glanced up. “Zephyr!” she said again. “I chose it myself. It means a light, gentle wind. And that’s exactly what I am: a light, gentle wind floating around the world. Now, what are your names?”
It took Coral exactly two and a half seconds to fall in love with the notion of an exotic-sounding name of her own. Suddenly the name Coral sounded very dull and uninteresting by comparison. And of