The Body on the Beach (The Weymouth Trilogy) (9 page)

‘I would agree with you
there
– I certainly found it most strange - though my husband enjoys it. It is a good job that he does. He has scarce
ly
been in Weymouth three months in the year since we were married.’

‘You must find that hard.’

‘In a way I do, but I knew what I was taking on when I agreed to marry him. We were childhood sweethearts you see, Mrs Miller, but John was already in the navy when we first met so I have had plenty of time in which to get used to it. He was the
twin
brother of a
school friend
of mine. He used to visit her during term time, when he was not at sea, and we would all go out for jaunts together there. But I find plenty enough in Weymouth to keep me occupied. I have a good many acquaintance hereabouts, and I
know that Andrew
wish
es
me to visit him at Belvoir as often as I like. Belvoir is only a short step up from here. I can run in and out three times in a day if I need to.’

Poor Kathryn. Mrs Wright seemed determined to drag her brother into every conversation, whilst she herself was equally desperate to keep him out. So in the end, having spent the best part of a half hour with her new friend, she had to admit defeat and announce her
retreat by
setting off for home.

‘For I have a long walk ahead of me, Mrs Wright, and I dare not leave Bob with our maid Sally for too long – he will drive her to distraction else!’

Luck was not with Kathryn that afternoon, however, for no sooner had she quitted Mrs Wright’s house and started to make her way back across the bridge, than she was immediately accosted by Mr Berkeley who was coming across it
towards her
in the opposite direction.
Kathryn could have stamped her foot in annoyance. This was just what she had thought might happen – and exactly what she had hoped would not.

‘Well met, Mrs Miller,’ he said, as she bobbed him a demure curtsy
and coloured a little
. ‘And what has brought you over to this side of the harbour?’

Kathryn told him that she had just vacated his sister’s house and was on her way to the timber merchant’s for her aunt before setting back towards Sandsford House.

‘Then
perhaps you will allow me to
go with you
? I have just come from that direction myself. I have been examining the reclamation work there.
We
are building a quay directly from the sea.
I am
providing my expertise to the engineers
– it is a discipline that I know well from my past employment
, you know
- and
I
am planning to make some investment in it
.
I
hope
that
you
’
ll allow me to carry
the wood back to your a
unt’s?’

Although she wanted to decline this kind offer, Kathryn found herself smiling at Mr B
erkeley in such a way that he ha
d turned to accompany her before she had even framed her refusal.
Considering
the nature of her earlier delib
erations she realised that this was not entirely a
n auspicious
s
tart
. B
ut
,
havin
g sealed her fate so comprehensive
ly
,
she
now
found that she
was left with
no choice but
to take his proffered arm and walk
along
with him
in the direction of the timber yard at the very end of the quay. Before they reached it, however, Andrew spotted an acquaintance of his. He was standing on a small merchantman moored up alongside, directing some crewmen who were engaged in loading up.

‘Well, if i
t isn’t Captain Wayman,’ he laughed,
stopping for a second (and thereby obliging Kathryn, who still held his arm, to do the same). ‘Hey, you old scoundrel – I have a bone to pick with you and your crew. I got washed overboard when you brought me over from Southampton that time – washed overboard and you never said a word.’

The Captain stepped over
towards him
.

‘Well, if it ai
n’t Mr Berkeley,’ he said, obviously well pleased. ‘Washed overboard, you say? Well, there’s a surprise. We never even noticed you had gone, sir, and that’s no lie. Thought you was banged up in the cabin, the storm was so fierce, and we just assumed that you
’
d got
yourself
up and jumped ship early when we came out of Weymouth the following day!’

Andrew threw his head back and laughed heartily.

‘Well, if that’s the way you look after your passengers remind me never to accept a passage from you again,’ he said.

‘I’m mighty sorry about it, Mr Berkeley, it never crossed my mind that you had gone. I’m pleased to see that it did you no harm. I don’t even know what happened to your bits and pieces. They may well still be in the cabin,
if you’d care to come aboard. To my knowledge w
e haven’t used that particular cabin since.
We don’t get many passengers at this time of the year.
’

Andrew invited Kathryn to join him on the boat. Kathryn had never been on
board
a boat before
. Without realising quite what she was doing
she
suddenly
found herself being
dispossess
ed
of her basket
and saw it being handed
across the plank to the Captain
. Then she found herself being
led
across the plank
and being caught by the waist as she j
ump
ed down into the boat
. She followed
Captain Wayman
along the deck
, and found herself
peering
down a short ladder-like staircase and into the depths below.

‘Would you like to have a look at the cabins
,
ma’am,
or would you prefer to stay on deck?’
asked the Captain.

Kathryn peered again at the steep little st
aircase and the darkness beyond it and giggled.

‘I regret that I’m not quite dressed for subterranean explorations,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘Should the hem of my skirt not serve to trip
me
up
then I fee
l sure that my slippers would manage
it instead.’

Mr Berkeley looked down at her feet. The soles of her
little shoes
were parting quite markedly from the uppers.

‘Then perhaps you would care to
take a seat for a moment
?’ he suggested. ‘I won’t be very long.’

‘O
ver there, by that rope,
would be the best place, ma’am
– you’ll not get dirty sitting there.’

‘Well as long as I’m not in anyone’s way. I should hate to hinder anyone from getting on with their work.’

The C
aptain followe
d Mr Berkeley as he clambered stealthi
ly down
the steps.

‘Lovely woman, your wife, if I may say so Mr Berkeley,’
she heard him
whisper
before they disappeared inside
. ‘So
beautiful
,
and n
ot
at all
like
these stuck-up women we get nowadays
who care for no-one but themselves. You’ve got a rare one there, Mr Berkeley
,
and I’ll tell you that for nothing
.
’

‘She is indeed a lovely woman, Wayman
.
’
S
he could just catch Mr Berkeley’s deep voice as it
faintly
drifted
back
to her
from a cabin
down
below
. ‘P
erfection personified, in fact - though sadly she is not my wife. Some other lucky cove got there first. I’d give anything for it not to be s
o, and that’s the honest truth. It pains me more than I can tell you to know
that she
’
s not mine
..
.’

Despite the dirt and the smell of tar
Kathryn was
very
glad that she
had agreed to sit down by the rope
. For
reason
s
that she preferred not to examine
too closely
,
she
had just discovered
that
she
was not quite able to move her limbs
just then.
It took her all of the time that Mr Berkeley spent below deck before she could
finally persuade
them
to do her bidding once
again
.

A couple of weeks later Kathryn
received a brief note from Mrs Wright requesting her presence for the afternoon
, and as she was due to visit her aunt again anyway Kathryn
decided to accept
.
Her aunt was delight
ed that she was visiting her new friend again. What she did not realise – and what, to be fair, Kathryn did not realise either – was that Mrs Wright had determined on dragging her out on a visit to Belvoir House, at which Mr Berkeley had arranged a surprise dinner
especially
for her.

Although she had not sought it, Kathryn had to admit to herself – albeit with
more than
a touch of guilt - that she was pleased to have the opportunity of visiting Mr Berkeley’s house. She tried to convince herself that this was only natural – that anyone would like to have the opportunity of lookin
g around a lovely property
– and indeed, to some extent this was true. But she couldn
’
t pretend to herself that the rather unwelcome fluttering in her stomach, and the thumping of her heart that instantly beset her as soon as she realised Mrs Wright’s intent, was
merely the adjunc
t of such natu
ral curiosity. This annoyed her
very much,
b
ut there was nothing
to be done about it. She could
n
’
t help her feelings, after all, and despite his words to Captain Wayman (which still insisted on impacting on her mind at every available opportunity) both Mr Berkeley and his sister were under no illusions about
the fact that she was
married. So she submitted to her friend’s plans with good grace, walked with her up the hill
past the
malt-scented
breweries
to the southern edge of town, pas
sed
a
very
pretty lodge stationed by some large iron gates
by
the road
, and
went
on along
a wide,
gravelled driveway
up to
Belvoir House itself.

Mr Berkeley was perhaps fortunate in that he had selected what turned out to be a glorious spring afternoon for his surprise dinner, for in the bright sunshine that was just then emerging from the final clouds
of the morning, and in the brilliant clear blue of the sky reflected in the sea, the grounds of Belvoir House were certainly displayed to their full advantage. Indeed, they appeared so beautiful that Kathryn could
only
gasp as the whole vista opened up gradually before her. Large lawned
terrace
s, dotted with tropical trees and plants,
dropped
gently down towards the deep blue seas beyond. Classical statues – not too many – adorned some leafy glades, planted strategically to provide shelter from the strong prevailing winds. A circular, raised pond in front of the house contained a
delicate
fountain which splashed glittering droplets onto the surface of the water beneath. The slight splash of the water merged with the faint rhythmic lapping of the sea way down below
to
provid
e
a musical backdrop to the whole montage.

The house itself looked quite modern. It was
not especially large but it was
beautifully proportioned, with columns of Portland stone supporting an elegant porchway up a short flight of steps
to the front door
, large rectangular windows on two levels, symmetrically arranged to make the most of the views, and an orangery to one side of it containing, as far as she could see, an array of strange plants which she had no doubt would produce exotic fruits at certain times of the year.