successfully contacting Nadine.
Yesterday, Matt and Aimee had spent over eight hours there to no avail. Sure, they had read a lot of information about the Spanish Helmet and about other aspects of Spanish theory, but they hadn’t come across anything that helped them progress further. Matt needed something new. Something that hadn’t been pursued by other enthusiasts and turned out to be nothing, or even worse, destroyed or hidden by the government. Matt needed…
‘What’s this?’ Aimee interrupted his thoughts.
Matt took the paper Aimee held out to him and studied it.
‘It looks like a scan of three old tickets. Can you make out what that says there?’ He pointed to the large print on the least faded of the images.
‘Scillon something,’ Aimee said. ‘Means nothing to me.’
Matt squinted at the paper and ran over possibilities in his head.
‘Scillonian.’ Matt slapped his thigh. ‘That says Scillonian III, that’s the ferry to Scilly.’
‘Wow, you’re good. I could never have figured that out.’
‘Well, I’ve been on it a few times. I wonder when these were for.’ Matt located the date and with some more effort, deciphered it. ‘Oh my God, these tickets are for my 3rd birthday.’
‘How cool is that? Your Dad kept them all these years.’
Matt wasn’t sure of the tickets importance to what they searched for, but he liked the connection to his father and placed the paper to the side, in the ‘possibly important pile’, which was very small. Three documents now.
‘What we really need to find is a folder of notes specifically related to my father’s progress.’ Matt pondered aloud. ‘A diary or journal would be great.’
‘Something like this?’ Aimee asked, turning to face him with a huge smile on her face.
Matt grabbed the red, A4-sized, hard-cover volume she was holding. He opened it and flicked through the pages to get an idea of what it contained.
‘Something exactly like this!’ He leaned over and surprised himself by kissing her firmly on the lips in his excitement.
The two of them pulled uncomfortably apart. Aimee looked thoroughly embarrassed. Matt felt it.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he blurted. ‘I got carried away in the moment.’
‘It’s OK, Matt. I understand. What’s in the book?’
Matt opened the book again and summarised what he read as he flicked from page to page. Much of the content was notes about documents his father had sourced, or theories and what he made of them. But there was one section that was thoroughly interesting. Matt read it out to Aimee.
‘I have finally identified the operator of the dredge that found the Spanish Helmet in the Wellington Harbour in 1879. He is long since dead; however I have been able to trace his family to his Granddaughter who still lives in the suburbs of Wellington. I have contacted her and she has invited me to come and visit her as soon as I have the opportunity. She says she may have interesting information for me.’
‘Wow!’ Aimee said. ‘Did he visit? What did she tell him?’
‘Wait a moment, I need to flick forward here,’ Matt said, flipping over pages until he found what he was looking for.
‘Here we go… have visited Miss Ruth Borlase in Wellington. Amazing news, her grandfather didn’t just find the Spanish Helmet; he also found a sword and some other armour. He provided half of his find to the Museum of New Zealand, but he kept the sword and some of the artefacts for himself. I saw the sword! Definitely Spanish!’
‘This is incredible,’ Aimee said.
‘It goes on… Mr. Borlase was furious when the museum claimed they didn’t know the exact details of the helmet, since he had been present when it was catalogued into their collections. He claimed cover-up and swore to keep his relics hidden, only to reveal them when the time was right, when people would listen. His granddaughter hopes that the time is now.’
‘Does this get us any closer to finding out where the helmet came from? Where is the sword now? Is there anything else written there?’ Aimee rolled out a series of rapid-fire questions.
‘The information about the visit with Miss Borlase ends there,’ Matt answered, flicking further through the notebook. It was only on the last page that he saw the information that would lead them to the next step.
‘Matt.’ Matt read aloud from the diary. ‘If you are reading this you will know how important the information I have is. You will also know that it needs to be hidden until the time is right. The time is now right. You hold the key to my favourite place. Find it.’
‘The other key your Dad gave you.’
‘Yeah, but what does it unlock.’
‘You hold the key to my favourite place…’ Aimee repeated the words.
Matt didn’t hear her; he was in a trance, that same line echoed in his head. He glanced up at the photograph on the wall. Matthew, the little three-year-old boy, standing in front of the little lighthouse on St. Mary’s.
‘Oh my God. It’s there,’ Matt said, pointing to the photo.
‘What? On that island?’
‘No.’ Matt stood up and reached out to take the picture off the wall. It concealed a small wooden cupboard. Matt took the key from his pocket and placed it in the keyhole. It turned with a click and the door eased open. He looked at Aimee. She smiled at him.
‘Your father’s favourite place was his memory of you,’ she said.
Matt held back the tears which he fought with his blinking eyes. Through the slight blurring, he could see another red notebook, identical to the one they already found. He took it from the cupboard.
‘I guess this is what we’re looking for,’ he said.
They sat at the desk and read the contents of the notebook together. When they were finished, Matt closed it and looked at Aimee. A grin lifted the corners of his mouth.
‘Are you up for a trip to this Otago place?’
‘Of course I am!’ Aimee answered. ‘I can’t think of anything more exciting. It sounds great, and I’ve got colleagues at the University of Otago.’
‘That might be a good place to start,’ Matt said. ‘If anyone should know about the local Maori, then it should be the local university history department. I knew I brought you for a reason.’ Matt paused. He didn’t want to look dumb, but he had to ask. ‘Where is Otago anyway?’
They locked the shed and said their goodbyes to Muriel.
‘Found what you were looking for then?’ She asked.
‘Sure did,’ Matt answered. ‘Thanks.’
His father’s notes had been very thorough. They explained how he had seen the sword that was found by Mr. Borlase along with the helmet in Wellington Harbour. He was intrigued by the Maori pattern that appeared to have been meticulously embossed into the blade of a distinctly Spanish weapon. Upon further investigation into the pattern, it was determined that this belonged to the style of a Maori in the Otago region. He had intended to continue on with his investigations by travelling to Otago and seeking out more information about the pattern and to research oral histories of white people visiting. He though some local elders might be able to help. That was the last of his notes.
CHAPTER 33
Matt took his phone off the charger and selected Nadine’s number from his phonebook. He couldn’t wait to tell her the great news. He was sure that his father would be excited for them.
‘God, I hope I can get through this time,’ he said, turning to Aimee, who sat at the table looking through page upon page of archived journal articles. She nodded, clearly absorbed by her reading.
He smiled at her profile and pressed the call button. It rang for quite a while.
‘Hello?’ Came an unsure sounding voice.
