No. He realised it had all begun the moment he’d appeared.

Did I cause all of this?

‘Do you want another hot chocolate?’ asked the owner of the café. ‘That one looks like it’s gone cold.’

‘Yes please.’

‘Okay,’ said the owner, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he took a seat in the booth opposite Forest. ‘I’m Salvatore, a friend of Mack’s. He and Shelby sure left in a hurry,’ he said conversationally.

‘Yeah,’ said Forest. He felt like he was adrift. He had no idea what to do next.

He realised the man was still there, studying him closely.

‘Poor little Forest,’ said Salvatore. ‘I watched the conversation. I couldn’t hear it, but I can guess what it was about. You and Shelby just found out, didn’t you? About the Business?’ He leaned forward. ‘We will do what we can to protect you from Blackbeard.’

Forest didn’t say anything to that. Instead he lurched to his feet and ran out the door. Even the café owner knew more than he did. Did everyone know?

Some conman he was! He’d convinced everyone he was the heir to Dempsey Abalone, not realising it was a front for a criminal enterprise!

His footsteps pounded down the street, stirring a flock of cockatoos into flight from an acacia tree. He’d spent months rehearsing how Forest Dempsey would respond to every conceivable scenario, but he had no idea how to respond to this.

He had to talk to someone who knew Forest. He had to talk to Huck.

It was daylight, so Huck wouldn’t be at the boatshed. Too much risk of being caught trespassing. At this time of day he’d likely be fishing for his dinner.

He headed down to the main beach and walked along the sand, footsteps sinking, dodging bright beach tents and groups of holiday makers enjoying the summer heat. The Black Wind was a distant memory. Even that weird vibe from the death of Davey Dempsey wasn’t hanging in the air anymore.

Davey Dempsey. Nope, he couldn’t think about him right now. If he thought of Davey, and of this dangerous Blackbeard, he wanted to run and hide. And he couldn’t. He had to do this for Huck.

Off in the distance, at the rockier end of the beach, he saw a group of fishermen, evenly spaced along the rocks. A smaller figure sat on a pillar at the end of the line.

Huck.

By the time Forest reached him, he was drenched in sweat and his face felt sunburned. ‘Caught anything?’ he asked.

‘Not yet,’ said Huck. He chewed on a cigarette, watching his fishing line where it entered the waves. He turned Forest’s way, his long hair catching in the wind. ‘You okay? You look upset.’