‘Fun!’ said Sebastian. ‘But I don’t think I’ll bathe before breakfast another time. I got damn’ cold hanging about waiting to get into the cave.’
‘Well, you don’t need to bother about me. You never do. I’ll tell you what. I saw some steps up to the lighthouse while I was in the water. Let’s go that way back.’
‘Worse than the climb up from the cave, wouldn’t it be?’
‘I don’t know, but I like steps.’
‘And what happens when we get to the lighthouse? Ten to one we’ll have to come all the way down again.’
‘Oh, well, all right, then. I’ll do it by myself sometime.’ They toiled up the rest of the slope, flung their wet swim-suits down on the sitting-room floor of the chalet and found their father already at breakfast when they went over to the hotel.
‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘Have you been swimming? I hope you didn’t take any risks. I’ve been talking to the porter. He has come back on duty today. He tells me that the currents around the island are very treacherous and can be extremely dangerous.’
‘Yes, we know,’ said Margaret. ‘The Gavin woman—Laura—was there, and she warned us about Dead Man’s Day.’
‘That was very good of her. Well, sit down and have your breakfast. The bacon and eggs come from the farm and are excellent.’
‘Any news of Aunt Eliza?’ asked Sebastian.
‘None. I could hardly ask the porter about her, and so far there is nobody in charge of reception. I think you may like to make yourselves scarce as soon as you have had your breakfast. The hotel is already in a state of near-confusion preparing for a vast influx of visitors, so that it promises little hope of any peace and quiet this morning.’
‘Oh, the bird-watchers’ conference, I suppose,’ said Sebastian. ‘Maggie and I will be out of it, anyway. We’re going to explore the island. Do you think, Father, that we could ask for a packed lunch? If there’s going to be a sort of spring-cleaning done here, I want no part of it.’
‘I should have liked to come with you, but I think I will stay here to greet Lizzie upon her arrival. I did ask the porter about steamers and it appears that one is due today, but not another one until Saturday. Wednesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays are the arrival days, and as the conference people are expected to come by the Saturday boat, your aunt will certainly not delay her own arrival until then. I confidently expect her this morning at about half-past eleven or so. It appears that the Thursday boat puts in earlier than ours did yesterday.’
‘Oh, well,’ said Margaret, ‘perhaps we had better come back to lunch, then, if Aunt Eliza is expected.’
‘There is no need for you to put yourselves out, my dear. In fact, it is so long since I saw my sister that I believe I would prefer to break the ice before I introduce you to her.’
‘Thank goodness for that!’ said Sebastian, when they had left the hotel and were making their way towards the northwest corner of the island. ‘We didn’t want him tagging along and making us look at what interests him and bores us crosseyed. He has such weird ideas of enjoyment.’
‘Poor old Tutor! Do you sometimes think perhaps we’re a bit lousy where he’s concerned?’
‘Good heavens, no! He’s got a job he likes and isn’t much good at (so he’s lucky to keep it, and he wouldn’t, except at a university), we don’t cost him much and he’s stingy about my allowance, anyway, and I don’t drink (much) or dope at all, and we’re both quite reasonably intelligent—and that’s a miracle when you think of Boob. Besides—’
‘Oh, not that ancient Sicilian Vesper about not having asked to be born! I’m jolly glad I was born, and I’m going to enjoy myself as long as I can manage to stay alive. Look, there’s the church. Shall we take a look at it?’ said Margaret.
Sebastian took a look at it and snorted disgustedly.
‘Victorian Gothic,’ he said.
‘Well, John Betjeman likes Victorian Gothic, and he’s the Poet Laureate now, so don’t be snobby.’
Sebastian tried the door, but the church was locked.
‘Oh, well, that’s that, and I don’t think we’ve missed much,’ he said.
‘I wonder whether there are any interesting old grave-stones in the churchyard,’ said Margaret.
‘There couldn’t be. I should think the building was put up in about 1880, and not a day earlier.’
‘There might be an amusing inscription or so, all the same. Come on, let’s look around. We’ve time to kill.’
‘Not if we’re going to get as far as the northern end of the island.’
‘Well, we need not do that today. We’ve got a whole month to mess about in.’
Sebastian gave way and tagged along after her as she inspected the graves. The churchyard was ragged and untidy and on three of the headstones vandals had been at work. Red paint had been splashed on them in the forms, respectively, of a giant letter s followed by the word murder, a five-pointed star labelled lucifer and a sprawling, badly-executed swastika.
‘Amateur satanists!’ said Sebastian. ‘Cor!’
There was one more item of interest. A notice in the church porch, addressed to visitors, supplied the information that services were held once a month, but that special arrangements could be made with J. Dimbleton at Lighthouse Cottage by any who wished at any time to go to church on the mainland. tariff by mutual agreement depending on numbers, the notice stated.
‘Might come in useful, even if one didn’t want to go to church on the mainland,’ said Sebastian. ‘Sundays are bound to be pretty grim in a place like this. Oh, well, let’s press on, shall we? There’s only one track in this direction, so there’s no need to argue about which way we should go.’
The track brought them to a farm and continued past it. The farmhouse was perched high up on the plateau in what seemed to be an unnecessarily exposed position and adjoining it were piggeries, cattle-sheds, a walled kitchen garden and a good-sized cottage and smallholding. Apart from the buildings and the rough road which hereabouts was muddy with the tramplings of cattle and plentifully endowed with large pats of cow-dung, there was nothing to be seen but pasture dotted freely with the black and white of Fresian cattle and also a number of white-faced Herefords which were quietly grazing.
As they approached the cottage a man came out. He gave them a polite good-day as they passed, and as soon as they were out of earshot Margaret remarked,
‘He was on the boat that brought us ashore. I was certain he and the older man with him were natives. He might be able to tell us quite a lot about the island.’
‘What I’d like him to tell us,’ said Sebastian, ‘is whether the island supports a pub. We have sandwiches, but nothing to drink.’
‘They did offer us a thermos flask of coffee at the hotel.’
‘I know, but it’s such a drag hauling drinks about.’ He turned, ran, and caught up with the man, who had turned towards the farmhouse. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘but is there a pub within measurable distance? My sister and I could do with a drink.’
‘A drink? Oh, sure. I could do with one myself. It’s this way, if you’d like to come along. You’ll be visitors to the island, no doubt.’
‘Yes, we came over yesterday. Didn’t we see you on the boat?’ asked Sebastian.
‘Me and my dad, yes, I expect you did. We were on it, anyway.’
‘There were two other people, two women.’
‘That’s right. Dame Beatrice Lestrange Bradley and her secretary, Mrs Gavin.’
‘Is Dame Beatrice really a criminologist?’ asked Margaret.
‘Shouldn’t think so, except that she’s a psychiatrist. It might come to the same thing, I suppose.’
‘Does she come here often?’