The goldmine problem (1)

I was woken early one morning by a formal, polite knocking on my back door, the type of knock you might associate with a lawyer from the mainland.

 

I quickly dressed and ran downstairs. It was a lawyer from the mainland.

 

“I am Mr Swede,” he said, “From Swede, Turnip and Celeriac solicitors.”

 

“How do you do I said. I am Jed. From here. Can I help you?”

 

“I’m here to make an announcement to the entire population of Happy Island,” he said.

 

“Oh, that sounds exciting. An announcement! What is it?”

 

“I will announce my announcement when I announce my announcement and not a second before. If you could be at the Announcement Hall at 8.15 a.m. today I will make my announcement. (The Announcment Hall, the main chamber of the Empty House, is where all the great announcements affecting Happy Island are made. It has been unused for over fifty years, this being an island shy of great announcements.)

 

“If you could direct me to the house of Mr Alun Davies, I will inform him of the forthcoming announcement.

 

I gave him directions to Alun’s house, together with the entry code required to operate Alun’s doorbell.

 

After a hurried breakfast and an even more hurried exchange of mindless speculation about what the announcement might be, Alun and I hurried down to the Empty House.

 

We found Mr Swede in the Announcement Hall.

 

“Hear me, hear me,” he announced.

 

There was a pause.

 

“Well?” He said.

 

“Well what,” I said.

 

“Can you hear me?”

 

“Oh. Yes, we can hear you fine thanks.”

 

“Then I’ll continue. I, Mr Swede of Swede, Turnip and Celeriac hereby decree the last will and testament of Jedalun Wood-Davies.”

 

Jedalun Wood-Davies! Our long lost uncle. What happened to him I wondered.

 

Alun, who can read my mind, gave me a look as if to say ‘He died you idiot, we’re here to read his will’.

 

Alun’s looks can be quite cutting sometimes.

 

Mr Swede continued his will-reading.

 

“My collection of spoons and spoon-related artefacts I leave to Mr Spoons,”

 

Alun nodded approvingly. “Mr Spoons always coveted his spoon collection,” he whispered. 

 

“My goldmine on Klondike Island I leave to my nephew and niece Jed Wood and Alun Davies.” (I won’t dwell on the ‘nephew and niece’ issue, suffice to refer you to my earlier tale ‘The gender problem’.)

 

“A goldmine!” I said, astonished, hence the exclamation mark.

 

“Klondike Island!!” Alun said, equally astonished, though showing off with an entirely unnecessary second exclamation mark. “That’s the scene of the biggest, wildest goldrush since the other Klondike goldrush.”

 

Mr Swede looked at us both thoughtfully. “It’s true, gentlemen, he said. You have inherited Claim 127 on Klondike Island,” he paused to check the wording of the will, “Conditional on the said claim being worked within one lunar month of the will being read.”

 

“That’s today,” I said, just in case any readers were struggling with the complexities of the plot. “We have a lunar month from today to begin work on our claim.”

 

“There’s no time to lose, Jed,” Alun said, “We must set off now, on the next boat, else we might miss out on our fortune.”

 

“Now? This instant?”

 

Alun checked his watch. “The Happy Island to Klondike Island hovercraft leaves in exactly 48 minutes.”

 

48 minutes. Just enough time to pack a bag of hover-travel-wear and goldmining equipment.