“It’s for Dad,” Mabel said, “though there’s plenty for everyone. You can have it for tea.”
“Trifle? But it’s not Christmas.” Rayne poked a finger in the perfectly piped folds of fresh cream. “Mam always puts cherries on the top of hers.”
Mabel had to restrain her impulse to cuff him round the ear. Smiling sweetly, she said, “Now don’t go spoiling it with a dirty finger, there’s a good boy.”
“My fingers aren’t dirty.” Suddenly losing interest, Rayne went into the hall and shouted up the stairs for Lenny to hurry up. Having got Lizzy to finally agree, he was anxious to be off to the beach.
When Andrew strolled into the kitchen and saw Mabel, he almost did an about turn.
“Morning, Dad. Look what I’ve brought you.”
“Harrumph!”
Anyone could see that Mabel was desperately trying to make amends. Lizzy, empathizing with her efforts, said, “It’s a lovely trifle, Dad. And look at our Mabel’s hair. You’d be hard put to recognize her, if you didn’t know. I think our Franny’s taken a good ten years off her.”
“Yes, very nice.”
Patting the soft waves, Mabel actually blushed. “Yes, she’s made a decent job of it, hasn’t she? Well I hope you enjoy the trifle, Dad. I made it especially for you, and I put some real brandy in the sponge.”
“Thanks. Very nice.”
Only when Andrew had gone over to the table to look at her gift was she satisfied, and then she bustled towards the door. “Well, must rush. I’ve got the upstairs to do. See you all later.”
“Lenny! COME ON!” Knowing that his Aunt Gabby was due any minute, Rayne was extremely anxious to get going – to avoid Alice and her permanent extra appendage at all costs, not to mention the smell of stinky nappies and baby sick, now.
It had taken practically another argument to get Lizzy’s consent for a fishing trip to Mullond’s Beach. Yet again Andrew had stepped in, offering to see to the puppy while he was gone. He had pointed out that since Alfie Borne appeared to have disappeared off the face of the earth, and Ronnie Clarke was bound to be apprehended at any time now, and certainly nowhere near Mullond’s Beach, there seemed no reason not to allow the boys a bit of freedom with a breath of fresh air thrown in, seeing as their summer holidays were almost at an end. Besides, hardly anyone ever bothered to make the long trek across town to the remote cliff edge. And even if they did, it was rare for anyone to brave the path to Mullond’s Beach.
There were stretches of coastline far easier to get to and closer to hand. And most of them had ice cream carts, donkey rides and the like on offer; which was what seemed to attract the holidaymakers these days.
So Lizzy had reluctantly agreed.
*
Ronnie was lying on the floor of the cave precariously close to the entrance, watching Billy Dix as he meandered about the beach collecting driftwood. Without warning, he felt his feet brutally hoisted upwards before being bodily dragged backwards on the moist and gritty ground.
As he got to his feet and saw his ragged shirtfront and torn trousers, he turned on Alfie with a vicious snarl. A fight almost ensued as both men faced each other, fists bunched; Alfie with bitter disgust embedded in his eyes, and Ronnie with a look of murderous intent.
Just as a brawl seemed inevitable Ronnie backed down. He mouthed a specious grin as he tried to shake his clothes free of slime and bits of flint. “Cor blimey, Alfie. There was no need for that. See what you’ve gone and done? Look, me belly’s bleeding.”
“It’ll be your throat next if I catch you anywhere near that opening again.”
“Arg, I was just gettin’ a breather. It’s a bit close in here. Besides, no one saw me. Honest! There’s only Billy Dix down there as far as I can see. Oh, and two lads fishing off the stone.”
“Two lads? Who?”
“Couldn’t tell. Too far away. See, that’s what I mean. There’s no call for panic and the like. No one can see us. Strewth! I’m bored to tears. Be a sport, Alfie. Save me your fag end. I’m dying for a drag.”
Billy Dix was standing directly beneath the caves, staring up. He suddenly began waving his arms and shouting his head off.
*
‘Never ever, ever go in this drawer’ – that’s exactly what Daddy had said when she had come upon him unexpectedly one time, and he knew she had seen what was inside. Amelia had never disobeyed her father. Accordingly, her mind was in a complete state of flux. What should she do? There was nothing else for it, her inner voice told her. Fearing a wrathful reprimand from his seeing eyes in the portrait, she deliberately turned her back as she went behind his desk to do just that – openly disobey him.