The Body on the Beach (The Weymouth Trilogy) (8 page)

‘And what about you, Kathryn,’ asked her aunt, perceptively. ‘Did Mr Berkeley offer you a gift as well?’

Kathryn looked up at her. She was feeling a little guilty, although she
felt that she
had no reason to do so.

‘Yes. He brought me some jewellery. I refused it.’

‘Yes,’ said her aunt. ‘Yes, I see.’

Kathryn wriggled a little. She was annoyed with herself. She had no reason at all to feel uncomfortable. She had not encouraged the man in any way and she had immediately rejected his gift. But still, she did feel uncomfortable. She knew that she enjoyed Mr Berkeley’s company far more than she ought to do. She knew that she found herself attracted to him far more than
it was wise
to do. She knew that she
already
felt so much more at ease, so much more at one with Mr Berkeley than ever she could hope to do with Giles
. She knew that her life would f
e
el
so much more fulfilled, so much more complete, so much more joyous with someone like Andrew at her side than ever it would
be
with Giles. But it was not her fault that such thoughts and such feelings kept imposing themselves on her mind. She was not asking them to do so after all. She
persuaded herself that she
could only really
be
blameworthy were ever she to drop her guard, were ever she to allow him the freedom that she suspected they both would wish for – and she knew, too, that a more awful retribution would occur should this ever happen, and should Giles ever have so much as a suspicion that this had been the case.

‘I will be on my guard, Aunt Shepherd. I will have to be on my guard.’

Aunt Shepherd had said none of the things that had flashed through Kathryn’s mind, but she appeared to know instantly what had led up to this, and was content. She allowed herself the luxury of a further moment of regret for the sadness that her niece had brought upon herself by marrying Giles and then determined on changing the subject a little, by asking whether Kathryn intended to call on Mrs Wright whilst she was in town.

Kathryn thought for a moment.
It was a decisive moment.
She knew that Mrs Wright would be in regular contact with her brother. She exp
ected that brother and sister w
ould exchange visits several times a week, at the least. She knew that if she were to continue her acquaintance with Mrs Wright it was more than possible that she should stumble across him at her house in High Street – or elsewhere in the little town – at one time or another
, and that this might not be a very wise thing to do
.
S
o, s
hould she continue
with
the acquaintance and risk becoming embroiled still further with a family –
with
a man - who
could prove so dangerous to her, or should she go straight home to Sandsford and try to forget about him
instead
? And what would that decision tell her about her own faith in herself? Could she trust herself to behave as she ought, or should she hide herself away and never visit Weymouth again? And then she realised that the whole idea was a nonsense. Of course she could trust herself
.
O
f course she had to come to Weymouth. It was simply not practical to hide herself away.
She had to come to Weymouth and she had to be prepared to come across him at some time or another.
Rather than hiding away, rather than trying to avoid seeing him at all, she should sim
ply have to face up to her feeling
s and
put her trust in God
that she would behave in the way that she ought
.

‘It had certainly crossed my mind,’ she said
eventually
. ‘We seemed to take an instant liking to one other.’

‘Then I should do so without delay,’ said Aunt Shepherd, firmly. ‘You are too much on your own at Sandsford House. It will do you good to have some nice acquaintance here in town.’

Her au
nt’s approbation was sufficient to seal her fate
.

‘If you think
that
I should
, then I will,’ she said. ‘Let me just complete this final stretch of hemming for you and I will leave you to get on with the rest in peace. Is there anything more
that
you would like me to do for yo
u whilst I’
m here
in town
?’

Aunt Shepherd smiled at her. She loved Kathryn dearly and wanted the best for her. So she sacrificed her own pleasure for that of her niece. Asking only that Kathryn should bring some firewood back with her when she had completed her visit, for which she provided her with a little wicker basket, she chivvied her out of the door almost before Kathryn was ready. So by half after three Kathryn found herself making her way along the quayside
on her way to
High Street
,
side stepp
ing the remains of gutted fish in the roadway
,
enjoying the noise and bustle that surrounded her
as she went. There were dockers with one-wheeled barrows
piled high with goods
, draymen delivering
ale
to the riotous public houses which lined the quay, officers and crewmen from
square rigged merchantmen with
masts so tall that they dwarfed the buildings that stood opposite them, moored two abreast at the water’s edge. There were small boys crabbing, fishermen standing gossip
ing next to their
boats and shouting abuse at scavenging dogs, while all around her was the stink of the fish and the screams of mewing gulls, chasing each other
at terrific speed
above the green water
, skirmishing for scraps. She
notic
ed it all as she
hurried
on
. Then she crossed
the river
via
the town bridge before
repeating her journey on the opposite side of the harbour
. She counted the houses carefully,
eventually knock
ing, a little cautiously, on the door of a somewhat narrow but neat little property
which stood just a few yards back
from the
nearest
e
dge
of the quay
.

It was obviously the correct house, for
Mrs Wright herself opened the door and expressed her great delight in seeing Kathryn standing
on the step
.

‘Oh, Mrs Miller, this is most kind of you – most kind of you indeed,’ she said, ushering her into the neat little parlour that led directly through the door from the street. ‘Let me take your cloak, do, and take a seat whilst I ask Becky to make us both some tea.’

Kathryn sat down and looked around the room. It was quite small – about twelve feet square – with a large bow window overlooking the quay and a stone fireplace in the centre of one of the walls. The walls themselves were brightly painted in a warm yellow which gave the room a friendly glow. The furniture, though old, was comfortable. It was certainly not too grand. Kathryn felt instantly at home.

Mrs Wright returned from her mission and sat down opposite her guest.

‘Andrew has told me a little more about th
e circumstance of his arrival at
Prest
on beach,’ she said, starting with
the subject of greatest interest
to
both
of them
– although Kathryn
felt that she
would rather have avoided his name if she could
. ‘I cannot imagine why there was no search instigated for him when he went missing from the boat. I am very angry about it, although Andrew, being Andrew, simply laughs it all off. From what he tells me, though, he is very fortunate in still being alive.’

‘I think so,’ replied Kathryn. ‘Certainly the doctor intimated that he was unlikely to have lasted many more hours on the beach. Mr Berkeley was extremely cold, and being totally immersed for so long he was in very grave danger of dying from exposure. I was never so pleased in my life to find him alive. I am used to finding bodies on the beach. I have never found a live man before.’

‘The sea will certainly take no prisoners as a rule,’ agreed Mrs Wright. ‘It is fortunate that Andrew is so strong. My husband is a mariner, you know
, but even so he does not swim
. He has been in the navy since he was fourteen years old. He achieved his Lieutenancy only last year after nearly seven years as a midshipman and is second-in-command of a
third rate ship of the line
. He is hoping for his own command
at some stage
,
of course
. It would make some difference to us
,
for
then he should earn a
larger share of the prize money. It is not easy to manage on a lieutenant’s wage
–
al
though
luckily, together with my mother’s money,
it did enable us to marry.’

‘But perhaps you may live quite cheaply here, Mrs Wright. It is a very pretty little house, and most convenient for the quay.’

‘Yes, it is, and I am most fond of it, though the rent is rather steep. My own needs are modest, however, and my brother used to give me the odd present or two when he was alive. I am hoping that Andrew may do the same.’

‘I am sure he will,’ said Kathryn, thinking of his own attempted generosity towards herself. ‘He appears to be a most generous young man.’

The little serving maid brought in the tea and the two ladies savoured a cup together, with Kathryn listening to all the noises emanating from the quayside
– the noise of building work close by, the cries of traders selling their wares, the mechanical chink of chains and equipment fr
om the boats moored
alongside -
with which Mrs Wright
appeared to be
perfectly accustomed but which for Kathryn, used as she was to a most peaceful existence in the isolation of Sandsford House, had all the charm of novelty.

‘I understand from Andrew that we are quite of an age,’ continued Mrs Wright, after a pause. ‘But you have the advantage over me of being twice married, and of having your little son into the bargain.’

Mr Berkeley had obviously been most expansive in the ac
count he had given
of his stay at Sandsford House.

‘I have indeed,’ replied Kathryn. ‘I think that Bob quite took to Mr Berkeley. I am glad of it. He has not been much used to male company. My current husband pay
s him very little attention – Bob
was the son of my first husband, and it is not the same for a step papa after all. The poor child could do with bringing out a little.’

‘Perhaps Andrew will invite you both to Belvoir. I am sure that Bob would enjoy exploring the outbuildings and playing on the lawn.’

‘Perhaps he will. I have no expectation of it, however. Although Mr Berkeley appears to see himself as under some obligation to me I have tried to convince him that he is under no such thing and that I only did for him what any human being would
be pleased
to do for another.’

‘Maybe.’ His sister didn
’
t sound
totally
convinced. ‘Though I daresay that one does feel under some obligation to the person who saves one’s life.’

Kathryn was feeling somewhat uncomfortable. She decided to turn the conversation
onto somewhat safer ground
.

‘But what of you, Mrs Wright
?’ she asked
.
‘
I understand that you have spent some time in the Netherlands. It must have been quite different from being here in Weymouth.’

‘It was indeed, though not unpleasant. I have fond memories of many of my holidays there. Mama was happier with her family than ever I remembered her at Belvoir and Andrew was always most kind – he is a talented man, Mrs Miller, and took to the language and customs over there with no difficulty whatsoever, whereas I – well, I could no more converse in Dutch than I could swim to America – it is all tongue and teeth – so I could never really get on there on my own. Andrew would take me out and about with him – wherever I wanted to go. I saw quite a bit of the country during my holidays there. It is certainly most flat, with the prettiest little windmills imaginable – just like in the paintings
, and it sparkles like diamonds in the winter snows. Andrew used to take me on sleigh rides at Christmas times. I liked it very much.
But once things started to look a little dangerous on the continent we all agreed that I should spend my holidays at home, with my brother John. It suited me just as well. I am not a great one for travelling, after all.’

‘Neither am I. I must confess, I have scarcely been out of Dorset more than three times in my life and I have never so much as taken the ferry to Guernsey or Jersey, let alone anywhere else. I am persuaded that it must seem very strange, with everyone speaking in a way that cannot be understood.’