Kidnap Island Page 3

  “Thanks,” said Eric, taking the bar gratefully and ripping it open. “British chocolate is so much better than the American stuff. Anyway, I guess you guys are wondering what I’m doing here, right?”

  “Yeah, it’s not every day you meet a chocolate-loving American on a poisonous island,” said Will. Thankfully, Eric didn’t notice the slight hint of sarcasm in Will’s voice or, if he did, he chose to ignore it.

  “It all started when my granddad died last year,” began Eric. “He was English but moved to the USA with his parents when he was a young boy during the war. They were Jewish and wanted to get away in case the Germans invaded. The Germans didn’t like the Jews, you see.”

  “Yeah, we know,” said Will. “We do learn stuff at school here.” Louisa gave him another sharp nudge in the ribs and smiled at Eric. “Just ignore my cousin. Now, tell us about your granddad.” Will looked angry but kept quiet.

  “OK,” continued Eric. “Granddad never really talked about his childhood in England, I don’t know why, but he didn’t. He settled into American life and you’d never have known he was foreign as he didn’t have an accent at all.”

  “Hey, you’re the one with the accent,” interrupted Will, only to receive another nudge from his cousin.

  Eric ignored the comment. “Anyway, after granddad died my dad got a call from a lawyer. We knew that granddad was a rich man, he owned a building company in New York, but it turned out that his parents had had a fair amount of cash, too, including some land in England.

  “Granddad left his money and other stuff to my dad, his only son, which was what you’d expect, apparently. However, the will also said that he was leaving something to his grandson – me. And that’s when things got weird, as that something was a place called Folney Island in England and ‘everything that shines within it’.

  “We googled the name and found out where the island was but couldn’t find out much more, other than the story that it wasn’t safe to go on. My granddad’s lawyer, though, had some old papers which proved that our family owned the island plus a letter written by my great-grandfather. Look, I have a copy of it.”

  Eric pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and passed it to Louisa, who read it out:

  “To whom it may concern,

  My family and I are about to leave these shores to start a new, and we hope safer, life in the United States, leaving the country that we have loved. We are also leaving our beloved island and our home on it…”

  “What home,” interrupted Will. “There’s no house here.”

  “There is, I’ll show you in a minute,” replied Eric. “Carry on reading first though.”

  Louisa picked up from where she had left off:

  “I hope that one day, when peace is restored to the world, that we, or our family, will be able to return to Folney Island and, once again, enjoy our family home and all that it contains.

  “To protect it from unwanted attention, I have asked our trusted gardener and groundsman Cecil Wise and his son Herbert…”

  “Hey, that’s old Bert the caretaker at the sailing club. I know him,” exclaimed Jonny.

  “…to put up signs warning people away from the island and spread a rumour that the land has been contaminated by the Navy. I have also asked him to leave the trees and undergrowth to grow wild, hiding our home from the mainland.

  Yours faithfully

  Eric Goldsmith, 14th June 1941”

  “So your great granddad was called Eric; is that how you ended up with such an old-fashioned name?” asked Will rudely.

  “What’s old-fashioned about Eric? There are a few of us at my school,” replied the American, sounding hurt.

  “I’m sure different countries have different named kids,” said Jonny hurriedly. “Anyway, where’s this house of yours? Can we see it?”

  Eric got to his feet and the others followed suit. “Sure thing, come with me,” and he disappeared into the thick undergrowth.

  The children found themselves on a narrow pathway that had obviously just recently been cut through the bushes and brambles which scratched at their bare legs. “Dad and I had to buy some tools to cut our way through here,” shouted Eric from the front of the procession. “When we first came to the island, we just couldn’t get past the shoreline, it was all so overgrown.”

  “Ow, it still is,” grumbled Will, rubbing his leg which had just been attacked by a stray bramble. “My leg’s…” He stopped short as the four children came to an opening. There in front of them was a small house, or rather a bungalow. Made of red brick with a grey tiled roof it was very like the homes around Jonny’s area, except that it obviously hadn’t been lived in for many years; ivy was crawling up the walls and covering some of the windows, while, here and there, slates had slipped from the roof revealing the wooden structure below. That apart, though, it appeared solid with none of the broken windows or graffiti you’d see on a long-derelict building on the mainland.

  “Wow, I can’t believe no one knows this is here,” exclaimed Jonny, “I’ve sailed past the island so many times and never thought there was a house on it.”

  “Neat, eh?” grinned Eric. “Come on inside.” He took them to a sturdy wooden front door stained green by moss. Pushing it open, he led them through into the lonely building.

  Louisa turned up her nose at the damp, fusty smell but didn’t say anything. Will did, though: “Poo, it stinks in here.”

  “Yeah, sorry but it’s better than it was,” replied Eric. “Come through into here.” Following the American, the children walked down the hallway and into what must have been the living room, with a dark oak fireplace on one wall, the recent remains of a fire in the grate. There was no furniture, just two sleeping bags spread out on the floor over camping mats, and there were rucksacks and clothes scattered around. Ainslie had a quick sniff around but didn’t seem impressed.

  “Sorry it’s a mess, I wasn’t expecting visitors,” joked Eric as he quickly kicked a pair of discarded boxer shorts under a sleeping bag. “This is where dad and I have been sleeping this last week. It’s actually quite cosy. We gave this room a really good clean up, and the kitchen, too; come and see.” He took the children through to a small kitchen with an old-fashioned Belfast sink, a couple of wooden cabinets and not much more. A modern camping stove was set up on the draining board and the sink was full of unwashed dishes. “Er, sorry, it’s a bit messy in here too,” said Eric sheepishly. “Hey, anyone wanna soda?” He rummaged around in a coolbox and pulled out four cans of coke.”

  “Soda?” Will said in a puzzled voice. “Sure, help yourself,” said Eric, putting the cans on the table.

  “Thanks,” said Louisa and Jonny, each taking a can, and Jonny passed one to Will with a wink.

  “Er, where’s the loo?” asked Will, putting his can down.

  “Well, there’s a kinda hut in the yard but it’s got weeds growing out of the pan, so me and pops, we pee in the woods.”

  “And when you need more than that?” quizzed Jonny.

  “Er, we’ve got a shovel…” grinned Eric.

  “Yuck, that’s gross,” said Louisa. “Guess I’d best watch where I walk then.”

  The children laughed as Will strolled out into the garden. “No looking,” he called as he disappeared into the trees.

  “As if we’d want to,” shouted Jonny after him. He then turned to Eric with a serious expression, “Say, where’s your dad and why are you actually staying here rather than in a hotel somewhere?”

  “We wanted to stay in the old family home – it’s fun. Dad’s got a meeting with his lawyers today, something to do with the will, I think. I went along last time and it was so boring I said I’d hang out here this time,” Eric explained. “I’m really meant to be cleaning up a bit but I’ve not gotten round to it yet.”

  “We’ll give you a hand,” said Jonny looking around at the messy kitchen. “Come on.”

  What are you doing?” asked Will as he returned from relieving himself.


  “Helping Eric to clear up. Here you can wash up.” Jonny chucked a dishcloth at Will.

  “Oh joy. Don’t you have a dishwasher? I’ve never washed up before.” Jonny looked at Will wondering if he was joking and, deciding that he probably wasn’t, took pity on him.

  “Tell you what, I’ll wash up, you help Eric tidy up his living room. Just watch out for his mucky boxers,” said Jonny. Eric looked embarrassed but disappeared into the living room with Will while Louisa stayed and helped Jonny in the kitchen.

  “How cool to own your own island and house,” said Louisa, slopping cold water into some cups. “Say, I’m surprised there’s running water here, shame it’s not hot.”

  “I’ll heat some up,” replied Jonny as he lit the little camping stove with a match. “Yep, this is ultra-cool, imagine being able to sleep here – Eric is so lucky. I wonder if we’ll see his dad today.”

  As it turned out, they didn’t see Eric’s father. After a couple of hours cleaning, sweeping and scrubbing, much of the little house was looking a lot brighter and more homely; Louisa even went out and picked some flowers from what she thought must have once been a pretty little garden and arranged them in a vase on the living room window sill.

  “Gee, thanks guys,” smiled Eric. “My dad’ll be stoked when he sees all this. I’ll get him to take you all out for pizza sometime soon.”

  “That’d be great, thanks,” smiled Louisa. “When’s he back, anyway?”

  “It should be soon, why don’t you wait?”

  “We’d love to but the tide is on its way out and the wind’s dropping,” replied Jonny, looking anxiously at the trees moving, or rather not moving. “Tell you what, do you have a phone? I’ll give you my number then we can get together again soon.”

  “That’d be cool. My dad bought me a cheap phone for the UK cos my American one wouldn’t work over here.” The two boys quickly swapped numbers and Jonny agreed to share Eric’s with Louisa and Will when they got back to the club.

  “Come on, we really need to go,” insisted Jonny, and dragged the others back down the track through the woods to where their boat was on the shore. The tide had dropped, leaving an expanse of black mud between the dinghy and what was left of the water. “Great, we’re gonna have to carry it down,” groaned Jonny. “Can you help, Eric?”

  Between them, the four children struggled to carry the boat down to the waterside and, by now rather muddy, the three of them and Ainslie clamoured aboard leaving Eric alone. “Will you be ok?” asked Louisa.

  “Sure thing, my dad’ll be back soon. So long and see you soon I hope. I’ll call you.”

  And with a wave, they were off. Jonny helmed and teased the best from the boat in the low wind. By the time they got back to the sailing club it was well after 9pm and the light was failing.

  “Oh oh, we’re in for it now,” groaned Will looking at two figures coming down the slipway to meet them. It’s our dads, Jonny.”

  “Where the hell have you been?” shouted Will’s father. “We’ve been worried sick about you. I tried ringing you but I suppose you didn’t have your phone with you.”

  “Of course not,” yelled Will. “You never bought me that waterproof case I asked for, so I can’t take my phone sailing. Remember what happened to my last one?”

  “Well, you’re grounded for the rest of the week,” yelled his father. “And I’m sure Jonny’s father agrees.

  “Er, yes, I suppose I do,” mumbled Jonny’s dad, looking awkward. Actually, he’d been confident that his son was fine and was used to him coming in at all hours. “Let’s get the boat packed up and then we can all get home.”

  Chapter Five

  Jonny groaned as he reached out for his phone on his bedside table and looked at the clock. It was 1am. “Hello,” he grunted sleepily into the phone.

  “Jonny, it’s Eric,” came a tearful voice.

  It took a moment for Jonny to register who it was, then he remembered their day with the American boy. “Eric, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” He spoke quietly, not wanting to waken his family.

  Eric replied by sobbing uncontrollably. “Whoa mate, take it steady,” said Jonny, wondering what on earth was going on.

  “They took my dad,” sobbed Eric.

  “Who did? What are you on about?”

  “These men came to the island and took my dad away. I’m here alone and dunno what to do. You’re the only person I know round here to call. What shall we do?”

  Jonny was by now wide awake and sitting up in bed. “Tell you what, I’ll come over. I’ll be with you within the hour. Keep your phone on. And Eric?”

  “What?”

  “Everything’ll be fine. I promise.”

  Jonny quickly dressed, whipping jeans and a warm fleece from the floor, before grabbing a waterproof sailing top and a woolly hat. It may be summer, but at this time of night it was bound to be chilly on the water.

  Very gingerly, he opened his bedroom door and sneaked quietly done the stairs, wincing each time a step creaked. Ainslie sensed that he had to be quiet and kept close to Jonny’s legs. Although he usually went around barefoot in the summer, the sensible boy put on a pair of trainers before slipping very quietly out through the back door, pulling it closed behind him.

  It was a clear moonlit night and, thankfully, Jonny hadn’t put his bike away in the garage but left it leaning against the back of the house. He wheeled it silently around to the front before hopping on and whizzing down the deserted road to the sailing club with Ainslie running faithfully alongside.

  Jonny grinned as he cycled. “This is great being out all alone in the dark,” he thought to himself, the cool wind blowing the last of the sleep from his face. And then he became serious as he remembered Eric’s distressed phone call. What was that all about? No doubt he’d find out soon.

  He skidded to a halt at the clubhouse and dropped his bike on the ground. Getting his sailing boat out in the dark would be too much of a hassle even if it wasn’t broken and, besides, there was no wind. What’s more, he didn’t want to be seen on the water in the middle of the night, and two big white sails would be a dead giveaway. No, Jonny had another plan.

  He kept an old plastic two-person canoe under his dinghy so he could get out on the water even on windless days, and it was this he was going to use. He pulled it out, along with a paddle, and carried it to the water’s edge. The tide was now on its way back in, so he didn’t have far to go. Dropping the little vessel on the shore, he pulled his phone from his pocket and rang Eric. “Hey mate, come down to the beach looking over to the sailing club and flash your torch once every 30 seconds, so I can see where you are. I’m on my way.”

  “Sure thing, give me two minutes,” replied the American.

  Jonny didn’t wait but launched his canoe, hopped in, got Ainslie to jump into the seat behind and began paddling silently towards the island. The moon gave enough light to show Folney as a dark lump against the sky so he had a good idea of which way to go. Before long, though, he saw a brief flash and grinned. “That’ll be Eric,” he thought to himself, and began counting the seconds under his breath. “26, 27, 28, 29, 30… Bingo!” He’d make a great lighthouse keeper.

  The flashing continued remarkably regularly and before long, Jonny could see the outline of his new friend standing on the shore of the island. “Hey Eric,” he called softly.

  “Jonny, is that you?” came a voice. “What are you in, a row-boat?”

  “No a canoe. Hang on, I’m nearly there.” The canoe came to a gentle stop on the soft mud and Jonny clamoured out and pulled the boat quickly up to the high-water mark where Eric was standing. “Well, here I am. Now, what’s been happening?”