‘I’m not versed in the classics,’ said Laura, with a derisive grin. ‘Oh, well, here’s to the maiden of bashful fifteen — not that they are nowadays — in other words, let’s go and bully Binnie.’
Laura had always liked East Anglia for its wide expanse of sky, its rare and brilliant light, its infinite variety of scenery, the enormous length of its coastline, its agriculture (with the exception of the fields of sugar-beet — quite the ugliest crop known to man, in Laura’s opinion) and the extraordinary number and splendour of its churches.
She loved the Broads, the slow Suffolk rivers, the windmills, (what remained of them), the Essex creeks, the Roman forts, the city of Norwich with its Cathedral and its castle, the wild birds and beasts, and, in contrast, the unashamed Bank Holiday atmosphere of Great Yarmouth.
Dame Beatrice knew all this, and as, in any case, they were obliged to spend a night in Norfolk, she decided to extend their stay to two nights, and told Laura to book rooms at the hotel on the salt-marshes where she had once given tea to Opal, Ruby and Petra.
Laura took binoculars with her, intent upon bird-watching. In the early morning she was out on the quay when a pleasant-faced youth in a dinghy called out to her:
‘Want to go as far as the Point? Tide’s just right and there’s quite a decent breeze. Do you sail?’
Laura did sail. She removed heavy shoes and her socks, turned up the ends of her trousers and stepped aboard. The tide was just on the ebb and there was a good depth of water in the narrow creek.
The Point proved to be a steep bank of shingle facing the open sea, but it was possible to beach the boat on a small spit of sand which the ebb tide was uncovering. They got out and pulled the dinghy well up. They sat on the shingle and the boy produced chocolate.
‘You seem to know this place well,’ Laura remarked.
‘I ought to,’ the lad replied. ‘I’ve lived here all my life. My father’s the rector.’
‘We’re only here for a couple of days.’
‘On a visit?’
‘Well, in a way,’ said Laura, who hated lying. ‘We’ve got to see some people who live at a place called Leyden Hall.’
‘Friends of yours?’
‘No, not really. I met the girl in Holland this summer.’
‘Oh, Binnie! Nice girl, but over-enthusiastic for my liking. Nothing wrong with that, I suppose, but she does gush a bit, doesn’t she?’
‘Brother, you said a mouthful,’ said Laura, grinning. ‘She’s engaged to be married, I hear.’
‘Yes. I shall have to dig into my jeans for a wedding present. One thing, nowadays one can always give a record, which solves the problem nicely. I play tennis sometimes in the summer with her and her brother and my sister. Oh, look! There’s a skua chasing a tern! Quick, or you’ll miss them!’
Laura focused her binoculars.
‘Fine!’ she said.
‘Did you get them all right?’
‘Yes, thanks. You must be old Hawk-Eye in person.’
‘Well, living here, I suppose I’ve had an advantage. There’s a bird-sanctuary, you see, and my father has always been keen, and has been teaching me ever since I was a small kid.’
‘Does he play tennis too?’ asked Laura, anxious to get the conversation back on to the rails.
‘Oh, yes. He’s quite good. Binnie, of whom we spoke just now — Binnie Colwyn-Welch, you know — oh, yes, of course, you do know her — drives over to our church sometimes and my father likes to find out who’s who in the congregation. He thinks it makes people feel more at home, I suppose. Personally, I think most people, unless they’re particularly involved in church affairs, prefer to remain anonymous. However, Binnie, being the bright thing she is, liked letting her hair down and getting to know us, so that’s how the tennis came about. They’ve a couple of very decent courts, one grass, one hard, at that place of theirs. Have you ever played on them?’
‘No,’ said Laura. ‘We’re not on those sort of terms — at least, not at present. You say you met her brother?’
‘Friend of yours?’
‘Goodness, no!’
‘Oh, then I can say what I think; and what I think is that Brother Florian is a wart. He cheats in the scoring, too — always saying a ball is out when it isn’t, and calling forty-fifteen in his own favour instead of an obvious thirty all. And he tries to get people to lend him money, I was told. But I can’t swear to that, because he’s never tried me for a touch. Knows I haven’t got any money, I suppose. He can find out that sort of thing, I think.’
‘Yes, I expect he can,’ said Laura. ‘Did you meet Mr van Zestien?’
‘Yes, Binnie invited my sister and me to tea one afternoon after tennis. Nice old chap I thought him — very starchy, in a way, but nice. It’s a fabulous place they’ve got there, isn’t it? Not Buckling or Holkham, of course, but very impressive, all the same.’
Laura looked at her watch.
‘I’m ready for breakfast,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ the boy agreed. ‘Tell you what I usually do. I leave the boat here — it’s an awful business beating up against an ebb tide because you can’t do much about tacking in the creek, it’s so narrow. Then I walk back across the marshes — you have to paddle here and there because there are streams, but it’s all perfectly safe — and come back the same way when the tide’s on the make again and I can pick up the boat and come up the creek.’
‘Did you enjoy your bird-watching?’ Dame Beatrice enquired, over a rather late breakfast. Laura described her outing and added that an independent witness had confirmed her own impressions of Florian, Binnie and old Mr van Zestien. Dame Beatrice listened attentively and nodded solemnly several times.
‘It was while strolling along the causeway over these marshes that I had my interesting and illuminating talk with Miss Opal Colwyn-Welch, of course,’ she said. They inspected the church and explored what there was of the village, had coffee at eleven on the first-floor balcony of the hotel, lunched at half-past one and then had the car brought round to be driven to Leyden Hall.
Old Bernard van Zestien was taking his afternoon nap when they arrived. The servant who opened the door recognised Dame Beatrice as one of the people who had visited the house before and made no difficulty about showing them into the library.
There was no difficulty, either, in estimating the warmth of Binnie’s welcome. She was delighted to see them. She gushed, (to Laura’s irritation) but, to Dame Beatrice’s more experienced and less prejudiced view, with genuine relief when they were shown in.
‘Oh, gosh!’ she exclaimed. ‘Never were callers more welcome! You’ll stay the night, of course! We’re got lots of spare bedrooms. What about tea? Or you could have some sherry or something. Just say what you’d like. Of course, ever since I met darling Laura in Holland, I’ve adored every minute I’ve been with her, so you really must stay a good long time. Granduncle will adore to have you!’
‘I am not at all sure…’ Dame Beatrice began. Binnie burst in, as Dame Beatrice had known she would.
‘Oh, but I am!’ she exclaimed. ‘I am quite sure he will, and I know I’m thankful to see you! I don’t know what to make of Florian, or, (for the matter of that), grand-uncle. They both know something I don’t know, and, between them, they’re worrying me silly.’
‘What sort of thing?’ Dame Beatrice enquired.
‘Florian killed those two women,’ said Binnie, in restrained and reasonable tones. ‘I know he did, although he hasn’t exactly told me so. I don’t suppose he meant to, but, even if he did, I’m not going to give evidence against him.’
‘Of course not. Nobody would expect it. For one thing, you do not know anything definite about what happened, and therefore your evidence would be valueless.’
‘Aunt Ruby put that lump of polish on the stairs, you know,’ said Binnie, changing the subject with some suddenness.