‘I’ll drive.’
‘It’s a long way. Have you got someone to go with you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, thinking of Claudia. ‘I must get in touch with my son and daughter. But not tonight. Tomorrow, when I know more. Robert may have turned up by then. They are both up at Cambridge.’
‘I should not delay telling them any longer than that,’ Penny said. ‘It might be on the TV news and they might see it or be told of it.’
‘Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll do it before I leave.’
The tea was made and the mugs carried into the drawing room, where they sat drinking in awkward silence. Lydia tried hard to concentrate on what she needed to do: ring Tatty and Bob, and that was going to be difficult. Should she tell them to come home or stay where they were? But she wouldn’t be at home herself, better tell them to wait until she had more positive news. Then she must ring Claudia, probably get her out of bed, and ask her to keep her company, pack a bag, cancel the milk, leave a note for Percy about the hanging baskets and tell Mrs Harrington she wouldn’t be able to do the church flowers. From practicalities, her mind inevitably strayed to that last strange conversation she had had with Robert. Did that have any bearing on what had happened? ‘Forget it,’ he had said, but she couldn’t, could she?
Had he been hinting that their marriage was at an end? Surely nothing more sinister? Why had the boat foundered? Had he left it before that, or had he been injured and washed overboard by the impact? Had he been sailing alone? Where was he?
The two constables left at last, after she had assured them she was all right and not about to collapse or throw a fit. And then she rang her children. She tried to sound calm and optimistic, telling them not to worry, their father was bound to turn up. She promised to ring from Devon and tell them the latest news and where she could be contacted.
She repeated her questions to Detective Inspector Travis at Salcombe Police Station the following morning. She and Claudia had taken it in turns to drive and had arrived in the Devon seaside town at nine, hot, tired and hungry. They booked into a hotel and ordered breakfast, but Lydia found she could not eat. Her insides were stirred into a froth, wondering what she might learn, and she could not wait to find out. At the police station, she was told there was no news of Captain Conway. The Merry Maid had been recovered and would be examined.
‘Can I see it?’
‘There’s nothing to see, Mrs Conway, except a boat with a big hole in its hull and you would not be allowed on board until the forensic team have completed their examination. The young lady’s body has been taken to the mortuary.’
‘Young lady’s body?’ she echoed.
‘Yes. She was found in the cabin with a head wound. There will have to be a post-mortem naturally, and we cannot rule out foul play at this stage.’
‘Are you suggesting my husband might have…’
‘That’s impossible,’ Claudia put in indignantly. ‘The captain was the mildest of men. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
‘Do you know who she is?’ Lydia asked, ignoring her friend’s outburst.
‘No, we hoped you would know.’
‘Unless I see her I can’t say, can I? My husband had lots of different people to crew for him.’
‘Lydia, you can’t,’ Claudia protested. ‘Don’t put yourself through it. It doesn’t matter, does it?’
‘Of course it matters. I want to know who she is.’
The inspector agreed to take her to the mortuary to see if she could identify the unknown woman. ‘She was in shorts and T-shirt, with no means of identification on her,’ he said. ‘We would have expected her to have a bag with a purse, cards and keys, things like that, but nothing was found on the initial search. It might have been washed overboard. We are searching the coastline for that and…’ He stopped to open the door and usher Lydia in, followed by Claudia, who had no intention of being left outside.
The young woman was not known to Lydia. She shook her head and they went back to the police station. ‘Where was the boat found?’ she asked as she prepared to leave, having told the inspector where she was staying.
‘Just off Prawle Point. You might learn a little more at the coastguard station there.’
Lydia was functioning on adrenalin and would not listen to Claudia’s suggestion she ought to go back to the hotel and catch up on lost sleep. ‘I’ll go when I know,’ she said, irritable with tiredness. Claudia gave in and followed her back to the car. They drove to the car park, as close to the point as they could, and scrambled over the rocks to the lookout station, on the cliffs high above the beach. They were met by one of the officers. Lydia identified herself and subjected him to the same barrage of questions.
‘They have hauled the boat out of the water for examination,’ he said. ‘There’s a huge hole in its side where it hit the rocks.’ He pointed at the jagged coastline as he spoke.
‘I can’t understand my husband letting that happen,’ Lydia said. From that vantage point they could see the Merry Maid, on its side on the beach, swarming with men in protective gear and life jackets. ‘My husband was in the navy all through the war and he’s been sailing ever since. He knows this coastline as well as anyone and he certainly knows how to read a chart. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘Perhaps our examination will reveal the answer,’ he soothed.
‘And why wasn’t he on board? Knowing him, I am sure he would have stayed to try and avoid the rocks.’
‘It is possible he had already gone overboard before the boat hit the rocks,’ he said. ‘Are you familiar with the boat, Mrs Conway?’
‘I’ve been on board a few times but I’ve never sailed in her. I’m a dreadful sailor. It’s why my husband had to find others to crew for him. Sometimes our son or daughter would go with him, but since they have grown up and found their own interests…’ Her voice tailed off.
‘Why don’t you and your friend go and find something to eat?’ he suggested. ‘We can find you if we have any news. The Pigs Nose serves reasonable pub grub.’
They went to the strangely named public house and sat over a ploughman’s lunch for which neither had any appetite and then returned. There was no news. If Robert had been able to swim ashore, he would have done it long before now, she thought. The alternative was too dreadful to contemplate.
‘If…’ Lydia gulped. ‘If it’s a body you are looking for, how long will it be before it’s washed up?’
‘It depends on wind and tide. We have people watching the most likely places.’ He didn’t say that it might never resurface, but she knew it. People did disappear without trace. Had it been intentional? A way of escape from a situation which had become unbearable? But surely he was too honourable to do that to her and the children.
There was nothing they could do and they returned to the hotel where Lydia telephoned Tatty. ‘I’ll get leave and come down,’ Tatty said.
‘No, darling, there’s nothing you can do and I don’t know where I’ll be. I’ll ring you again later.’ She did not want her daughter to join her, didn’t want her knowing about that unknown woman, though she supposed it would come out eventually. It could, of course, be an entirely innocent relationship, captain and crew, nothing more. Why did she find it so difficult to believe that?
Bob was easier to persuade. He was completely confident of his father’s skill and knowledge of the coast. ‘If he was washed overboard, he would swim away from the rocks,’ he said. ‘He’s probably landed in some cove further up the coast, miles from a telephone. Ring me back as soon as you know something. If you need me to come home, of course I’ll come at once and bring Tatty with me.’