The Body on the Beach (The Weymouth Trilogy) (15 page)

Much to her surprise, Giles had still not returned by the time Kathryn got back that evening – there was only Bob, delighted as ever to see his mama, and a somewhat worn out Sally who had been obliged to put up with him all day. Kathryn clasped her little son fondly to her. It was a pity that Giles had not taken to him. Thinking about the fun that Bob enjoyed with Andrew...but no, that was not to be thought of.
She could not allow herself to have such thoughts.
She would just have to do her best to fill the gap herself.

So the next morning she suggested that Bob bring his toy boat with him when they went together up to church, so that they could spend half an hour after the service playing with it on the pond. And to be fair, Kathryn herself gained almost as much enjoyment out of the toy as Bob himself – although she was less than pl
eased to have to remove her boot
s to wade in after the wretched thing when Bob had managed to so wedge it in amongst the weed that it could not come out again. Still, at least her son – in company with all the village children lucky enough to escape their mamas for half an hour - had enjoyed himself. She swung him along with her as they skipped back down the hill together, singing. He was the most important creature in the world to her just now.

It was just as they reached the road again that Kathryn spotted her husband in the distance. He was trudging somewhat desolately along the cliff path towards the cottages, apparently on his way home. He looked as lonely a figure as she, and for a moment her heart went out to him. She looked down at Bob and said, as brightly as she could:

‘It looks like papa’s coming home again, Bob. I think you should put your boat away somewhere safe and go to help Tom with the animals before he goes off for the afternoon  – don’t you?’

Bob nodded sagely and ran on ahead to put his treasure in his room. Kathryn waited at the door for her husband. He looked depressed.

‘Everything all right, my love?’ she asked him, anxiously.

‘Does it look like it?’ he snapped. Then, immediately
remorseful
, he went on. ‘Sorry – sorry, Kitty. I’m very very tired. I do not mean to snap at you.’

Kathryn was taken aback.

‘You tell me when you need to,’ was all she could think of to say. She followed her husband into the house. He had been carrying his coat over his shoulder and when he flung it down she could see that there was mud on his shirt. She sat down in the parlour with him and, with a feeling of impending doom, took up her sewing until he should see fit to talk to her again.

She cast him a glance. He had flung himself in the fireside chair and lay there, spreadeagled, with one leg over the arm. His head was flung back and he stared grimly into space. He sat like this for a very long time. It was quite unnerving. Kathryn got up to ask Sally for some tea. As she did so Giles suddenly shifted and told her to sit down.

‘There is nothing for it, Kitty. You will find out soon enough, I daresay, and you had much better learn it from me as from anybody else.’

Kathryn went over to him, kneeled by his side and took his hand.

‘I have done for us both, Kitty,’ he said. ‘I had hoped to amend it before it was undone but I have not. The wretched Revenue men had sprung us and took the lot. I shall have to go to Brewer and get the kelter from him.’

Kathryn knew that Mr Brewer ran one of the smaller banks in Weymouth. He had the reputation of assisting those for whom the main banks would offer no support – and of ruthlessly adhering to the letter of any contract he made.

‘Tell me about it, Giles,’ she whispered. ‘Tell me what you have done.’

‘I have done a damned foolish thing, Kitty. I have got into high stakes. The London crowd
will not look at the few shillings
we play for down here. And I have had damned bad luck into the bargain. I have lost a lot of money and I will need to pay it over soon. I had thought that I might get it back with Cutlass’s brandy and I invested what was left in that. And now, God damn it, can you believe that old Barney and his merry men have only got in to it and whisked it all away from under our noses.’

‘So you have lost some in gambling and lost the rest with the smugglers?’

‘Yes, for Christ’s sake. Yes. I have lost it all. There is no need to rub it in.’

Kathryn was silent for a moment. She hardly dare ask how much he had lost. Giles glared at her, almost daring her to do so.

‘Will we be able to manage, Giles?’ she asked instead.

‘We will have to manage, will we not, my darling wife? You will have to cut down your expenses. You will have to stop paying your dear aunt’s rent in town. You will have to give me the money you were putting aside for that wretched child of yours. I will tell the tenants that their rents will all go up. We will have to manage. There is no other option available but to manage, is there?’

‘Bob’s money? But that was intended for his education, Giles. I had promised myself he would be given the best I could afford. It is not fair to penalise Bob for...for...’

Giles glared at her again.

‘For what? Eh? For what?’ he shoved his face close to hers. ‘Go on. Say it. Say what you are thinking, you whore. Say that it’s all my fault. Say that you blame me for all this trouble. Is it my fault that the blasted Revenue stole my goods? Is it? Is it? Is it my fault that I had to go to London to earn some kelter because you – and that damned, blasted son and aunt of yours - cost
me
so much money to keep? No, I think not, Mrs Kathryn high-and-mighty Miller. It is not all my fault. You are just as much to blame as I am so you can stop turning those reproachful eyes on me right now. Do you hear me? Stop looking at me like that and get me my tea.’

Kathryn’s sense of self preservation took her over. Without even thinking about what she was doing she rose mechanically from the floor by Giles’ side and slipped out of the parlour and into the kitchen. Sally was not there. White, and quivering so much that she could hardly pour the water, she carefully placed the kettle on the fire and stood there as it heated up. She did it all without thinking. She could actually think of nothing at all. An overwhelming sense of fear and foreboding was all that she was aware of and she was not at all certain that she would be able to gather enough energy to take the tea back to the parlour. The whistling of the kettle brought Sally hurrying into the kitchen from outside. She was wearing her best things, ready for her afternoon off. She didn’t immediately notice Kathryn’s looks. She made straight for the fire and poured the boiling water onto the tea.

‘There we go now, Mrs M – did you want to take it through or shall...oh... are you all right, Mrs M?’

Kathryn, indeed, looked as if she had seen a ghost. She was quite unable to reply. Sally put the tea down in an instant and helped her into the chair.

‘Whatever’s the matter, Mrs M?’ she asked anxiously. She took her mistress’s hand and patted the back of it a few times. ‘Shall I fetch the master?’

‘No. No, please, Sally. Do not fetch the master. Just take him his tea, if you will. I...I shall be quite all right again in a moment. I am just a little out of sorts just now.’

For an awful moment Sally wondered whether Kathryn had got herself with child again, before instantly dismissing the idea as a nonsense. It was far too soon since Giles’ return for that sort
of thing
and she had such total confidence in the integrity of her mistress that the idea of anything having happened with...well, anyone else, was a mere fantasy. So she took the tea along to the parlour, knocking warily on the door before she went in, and shot a glance at her master as she laid it on the table at his side. Giles, indeed, hardly appeared to notice her. He was looking very black. She fleetingly wondered whether she
ought
to say something to him but decided against it. This was probably very wise.

Kathryn had gone outside by the time Sally got back. She could see her sitting on a hummock nearby. She poured a dish of tea and took it out to her. Kathryn nodded her acknowledgement. She could not speak. She looked utterly desolate. Sally hesitated. There was no-one else around. So she sat down next to her mistress and put her arm gently round her.

‘Have your tea, Mrs M. Things always look better with a nice dish of tea.’

Kathryn nodded and took a great gulp. It did appear to revive her a little.

‘Do you think you could find Bob for me before you go, Sally?’ she managed to say. ‘I thought we could go down to the beach and play at ducks and drakes, or something.’

Sally nodded and made her way into the house. Bob had been sitting in his room, drawing on his blackboard with some chalks, and he was mightily pleased at the thought of some more enjoyable activity with his mama.

‘Is Uncle Andrew coming with us, Sally?’ he asked, as he accompanied her down the stairs. ‘Uncle Andrew is very good at ducks and drakes. He’s almost as good at it as I am.’

Sally smiled at him sadly.

‘No, I don’t think so, Bob. He is a busy man, you know. Even great men like Mr Berkeley have other things to do with their time than to play all day long.’

‘Then I don’t think I want to be a great man, Sally. It’s more fun playing than working, after all.’

Sally packed him off into the garden, where his mama had finished her tea.

‘Come along then, young man,’ she said to him, almost gaily. ‘Race you down as far as the cottages. Some of the other children might want to join in as well.’

The next morning Giles came down just as Kathryn and Bob were finishing their breakfast.

‘Will you walk with me into Weymouth, Kathryn? The sun is out and it’s a mighty fine day.’

Kathryn felt that she would much rather walk into Weymouth on her own but thought it politic to accept her husband’s invitation.

‘Of course I should,’ she told him. ‘What time do you plan to go?’

‘Oh, about half after two, I suppose. I will buy you some flavoured ice on the way home.’

Bob’s ears pricked up at the mention of the ice.

‘Can I come too, mama?’ he asked her. ‘I could play on the beach by myself. I wouldn’t get in the way at all, you know.’

His mama, perhaps remembering what had happened the last time she had left him on the beach on his own, shook her head firmly and patted him on the head.

‘No, not this time, sweetheart. Papa and mama will be too busy today. But I shall take you to the beach another time and you can build me a giant sand castle to live in.’

The thought of a giant sand castle for his mama was compensation enough for the disappointment of missing out on an ice, especially as his papa would hopefully not be with them on the occasion of its construction, so he nodded dutifully at his parents and got down from the table to help Tom with the cow and pig instead.

‘I had planned to go into Weymouth anyway, Giles – my aunt was quite unwell the other day and I must go to check
up
on her – although ideally I would like to have gone this morning.’

‘Well, I’m sure the old witch can w
ait for an hour or two. It does
n
’
t suit me to go just yet. I have heard that Brewer is in a better mood after he has had his
nuncheon
.’

So, as Giles’ will must naturally take precedence over her own, Kathryn had to wait until he was ready to accompany her before she was able to go. They set out along the cliff path. Giles was in no hurry. He carelessly plucked a myrtle leaf from a sturdy bush as they passed it, crushing it between his fingers and inviting her to sniff the sweet smelling fragrance it left behind. He pointed out a bright butterfly, dancing in the air nearby. He took her hand as they rambled along the narrow pathway. He was, indeed – or, at least, appeared to be - perfectly contented and light hearted whereas she, Kathryn, could not quite rid herself of a feeling of impending doom. He was really quite unfathomable.

It was almost four o’clock before they reached the town centre. Giles kissed his wife before entering Mr Brewer’s bank, telling her to meet him outside the Royal in no more than an hour. An hour was not really long enough for everything Kathryn had wanted to do, but he was gone before she could attempt some negotiation, so she hurried along the street in order to make the best use of what little time she had remaining to her, and clambered up the steep, stuffy stairs to the apartment. She tapped softly on her aunt’s door and let herself in. The apartment was gloomy and cold. The curtains were drawn but she could just make out a lump on the mattress. The lump was totally covered over, and absolutely still. Kathryn hesitated
for a moment, looking at it. She knew what the covers meant, the curtains drawn against the daylight. She knew
what she would find. Very slowly and very
warily she stepped over towards
t
he mattress
. Then she took a very deep breath. Very, very carefully, she peeled the blanket back and gazed at the body beneath it.
It looked strangely beautiful in the half light.
The
old lady had taken on the mantle
of a young girl. The lines had left her face. Her long grey hair was lying loosely over the dirty cushion. There was the faint glimmer of a smile on her face. There was no trauma, no sign of any hurt. Rather, she looked peaceful, composed and very, very contented. Kathryn gulped. If this was what death could look like then she should have no cause to fear it. Let it come when it might. She herself felt ready.