‘From which direction?’
‘Oh, from the cottage, of course.’
‘Carrying her suitcase?’
‘No, she wasn’t carrying anything like that, so far as I remember; she certainly wasn’t carrying a suitcase. She had a towel, I think.’
‘So you met and she suggested a moonlight bathe.’
‘That’s it. My swim-trunks were back at the cottage in my suitcase, of course, but I didn’t think they mattered at night with nobody about. It seemed a long way across the marshes to the sea, but Camilla held my hand and sang all sorts of rather maudlin little songs, some in French – Si j’étais l’oiseau des bois – that sort of thing – and some in English—’
‘What was she wearing?’
‘Wearing? Oh, her usual gear of jeans and a sweater. She was wearing her bikini underneath.’
‘And you?’
‘Grey flannels, shirt and blazer. I’d packed my sweaters. I could have done with a sweater in the car, but walking was all right and I made sure we kept up a solid tramping. There’s a causeway that crosses a little bridge and takes you as far as the dunes, so I took her along at pretty well marching pace. All I wanted was to walk and swim, not to indulge in a bit of dalliance among the marsh-plants.’
‘You preferred that it should operate among the sand-dunes, no doubt.’
Palgrave laughed.
‘Not I,’ he said. ‘There was a very nasty, penetrating night wind blowing. We stripped off and I went straight into deep water.’
‘Deep water?’
‘Yes, the tide must have been almost full. Anyway, it was still coming in. Almost at once the water was waist-high and in no time at all it was deep enough for swimming. I didn’t stay in long. I followed my usual practice of going out until I couldn’t touch the bottom when I put my feet down, and then swimming level with the shore for a hundred metres or so, then turning and swimming back. I think I only did this a couple of times before I got out.’
‘But Miss St John remained in the water?’
‘Well, no, not exactly. She called out to know what I was doing and when I called back that I was getting dressed she called me by a rude name which I won’t repeat, and joined me on shore.’
‘Ah, yes.’
‘Oh, no! I told her if she wanted to play games among the sand-dunes to choose a nice sunny day. I said I was wet and was getting cold and all I wanted was to dry myself, get some clothes on and walk briskly back to my car. She said I was no sort of sport, but I threatened what I’d do if she didn’t either dress or get back in the sea.’
‘Most praiseworthy!’
‘There is no need to jibe. I simply didn’t want any of that sort of thing. There had been just one occasion on a lovely day when we had bathed together and were lying out on the sand-dunes and the sand was soft and warm and there were seagulls white and lovely against the blue of the sky and I was feeling relaxed and the girl was naked – well, that was one thing – but at night, with a chilly wind and my wet body that only asked to be warm and dry and clothed, there was no temptation at all. In fact, the little devil’s attempts to blackmail me only nauseated me because I’d seen and spoken to Morag that day and evening. My mind was full of her. I wanted her pretty badly and I knew I couldn’t have her. I’d chucked my chances away and I felt savage with Camilla, who was offering herself as a substitute. I could have murdered her – but I didn’t. I dried myself on my shirt and went back to the cottage.’
‘Leaving Miss St John to go back into the sea? Did you actually see her do this?’
‘Oh, yes. When she found there was nothing doing, I think the cold wind drove her back into the water. It was definitely warmer in the sea than on land.’
‘Did you have the beach and the dunes entirely to yourselves?’
‘The beach, yes. The dunes I can’t answer for. They are all dips, rises and hollows, as perhaps you know, and a lot of holidaymaking youngsters sleep rough. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were couples snugged down here and there. I wasn’t aware of anybody, but that says nothing. Even by daylight you can pretty nearly tread on them if you’re not careful.’
‘You saw nobody walking across the marshes?’
‘Not a soul while I was on them. There was a bit of white mist I half thought was somebody, but it wasn’t.’
‘Well, now, so far, Mr Palgrave, your story lacks corroboration, but, from the time you reached the cottage that night until the time you left it, I have been given one or two pieces of information about your movements.’
‘So I’d better watch my step? Fair enough. Well, I got back to the cottage—’
‘Why not to your car?’
‘I knew I’d never get to sleep in it, so I opted to sneak into the cottage and get my things and then take the car out Stack Ferry way and drive around until breakfast time.’
‘And at the cottage—?’
‘Ah, yes. That’s where you’ve got the drop on me, isn’t it? I went in as quietly as I could, because, of course, the front door opened straight into the room which had been mine before the Lowsons took it over, and I didn’t want to wake them if they had gone to sleep. Then I crept about trying to locate my suitcase. There was nowhere in the room to hang up clothes or stick things in drawers, so I’d been living in and out of the suitcase for days, but they had moved it and I had to grope around for it, not liking to put on the light.
‘I decided to change my clothes before appearing at the hotel in Stack Ferry – I was hoping, you see, that they could have me a day or two early, although my booking didn’t actually start until the weekend – but then it occurred to me that if I changed in the parlour I might wake the Lowsons up, so, knowing that Camilla’s room would be empty until she came back from her bathe, I sneaked upstairs with my suitcase and changed up there.
‘I wasn’t going to bother about shaving. I thought there would certainly be a barber’s shop somewhere in Stack Ferry where I could get a shave and a trim before I went to the hotel, but I altered my mind.’
‘Did you see Miss St John’s suitcase when you used her room?’
‘Not that I remember, but I wasn’t noticing much. I wanted to be quick in case Camilla came back and found me in possession.’
‘Did you see her night attire anywhere in the room?’
‘I don’t suppose she had any, you know. Child of nature and all that. Of course I suppose she could have tidied it away – stuck it in a drawer or under the pillow or something – but, judging from the state of the room, I shouldn’t think it very likely.’
‘So, having completed your preparations for departure, you left the cottage.’
‘That’s right, after I’d shaved in the kitchen. There wasn’t a bathroom.’
‘With your own suitcase you left the cottage?’
‘Quite — and not with Camilla’s, as the police seemed to think.’
‘You have referred to the Lowsons. Can you be sure that the Kirbys were in the cottage while you were changing your clothes in Miss St John’s room?’
‘Be sure? Well, Mrs Kirby saw me leave the cottage after I’d shaved. She was at the bedroom window.’
‘So she said.’
‘Don’t you believe her?’
‘I believe nothing without proof. You see, it might be just as well for the Kirbys to appear to produce some evidence that they were in the cottage at that particular time.’
‘Good heavens! You don’t suppose Miranda Kirby drowned Camilla, do you? She can’t even swim.’