Judith woke to a crash of thunder that seemed to start in one of the towers and rush down to the causeway. She lay still, enjoying the contrast between the weather and the sort of languor that often followed a long night’s sleep. Rain was hurling itself at her window, and a draught was moving the heavy velvet curtain. She drew herself up on to the pillows and stretched her arms. A flash of lightning heralded a response of thunder. She turned down her mouth; it seemed as if they were meant to be housebound until the five o’clock departure. What a pity the weekend had to end like that. The castle was big enough, heaven knew, but she had been curious about Hausmann’s plans for her; he had been most insistent that Sybil and Nathaniel should go off by themselves while he took Judith somewhere else. He called her ‘Jude’ regularly now, but he had been a little more formal then, and she had detected a slight hesitation as he spoke the second syllable. It was later that she realized he lisped when he said ‘Esmée’ and ‘Sybil’. He was a man of many contradictions, but she had also noticed that his honesty – sometimes brutal – encouraged her to be just as honest and almost as brutal.
She grinned at the thought, and the lightning flashed again; she drew the duvet to her chin before the thunder followed. She had always loved thunderstorms. They brought out character traits, just as Hausmann did. She was at ease with the weather, and she was at ease with him. She grinned and eyed the tea-making facilities, then decided she was too happily relaxed to make the effort. She wriggled down a little and closed her eyes and wondered whether she would ever see any of these people again. Perhaps Sybil might get in touch? Judith decided she would make the first move; she could suggest that they have another go at climbing the river of gold. If it was a good spring it could happen next April. Seven months away; winter months, too. She shivered. What on earth was going to happen about Jack? How could she bear to let him go to someone else? It was unimaginable, and she spent a few hectic minutes going over, yet again, exactly what he had said about another woman. Of course those two words were enough. Another woman.
She felt her body begin to bunch, and tried to force it back into that complete relaxation. If only he hadn’t said those two words it would have been so much easier. She need not have seen his departure as desertion; it might have been some kind of breakdown. He had never looked at anyone else, and they still had what he called ‘magic moments’; not so many, true, but they happened. Just like that first time in the lecture room when they had been physically drawn together. She tried to remember the last time that had happened. Was it before or after Naomi’s death? It was after. When Judith was still stunned and disbelieving that life could be so suddenly and easily snuffed out, and Jack had said, ‘It was an accident – the wrong place at the wrong time – there’s no way anyone can avoid such a cruel trick as that.’
She had looked at him and seen his hands reach out, and automatically she had moved to him and put her hands in his. But there had been no laughter. She had hung on to his hands, put her head on his shoulder and wept uncontrollably.
She realized now that already, at that time, he had been planning to leave her. He stayed until she appeared to have accepted the loss of her friend, and then … at the beginning of July … he had gone to Perth. He had met Robert Hausmann. And then what? Had he gone to someone else?
There was a knock on the door and she scrambled out of bed, clutched her dressing gown and unlocked.
‘Come on in, Mrs Mann.’ She got back into the bed; it was reassuringly warm, like a nest. Like a den.
‘It’s me.’
Sybil came in tentatively; she was wearing an enormous dressing gown and looked rather aristocratic.
‘No electricity again; the lightning is to blame this time.’ She stood at the end of the bed. ‘Irena is using the gas. I met her as I came away from the bathroom. She’s in a bit of a state.’
Judith was surprised. ‘I thought she took it all so well yesterday.’
‘Not about the power failure. About our chaps. They left a note. They’ve gone to Lundy.’
‘Nathaniel and Hausmann – our chaps?’
‘Well, we seem to be pretty divided down the middle. Even Martin Morris is with the famous four!’ Sybil tugged at the tie belt on her dressing gown. ‘This damned thing won’t stay across. I should use my own but … oh God, I’m so sentimental about Moss’s clothes. I wear his sweaters all the time.’
Judith thought she might do the same. Or perhaps not. Probably Jack would eventually take all his clothes. Was that why he – or someone else – had phoned through on Friday night? Was she going to go home and find the house empty of all Jack’s things?
She swallowed fiercely. ‘Why have they gone to Lundy?’
‘Well, naturally Robert has not explained anything!’ Sybil rolled her eyes. ‘But it’s bad enough trying to land there in good weather; they’re going to be dashed to pieces in this storm.’
‘No one will take them if it’s that bad.’
‘Robert’s got his own boat and a mooring at Porlock.’
Judith was finally startled out of her cosiness, which anyway had been fast disappearing since Sybil’s arrival. ‘Surely they won’t even try it in this weather?’
‘That’s the thing. They hung on last night chatting, and before I actually went to bed I heard Robert ask Nattie to go with him to Lundy. I imagine they listened to the weather forecast, and these storms weren’t supposed to start till mid-morning. So they left at midnight. The note just says, ‘Midnight, leaving for Lundy.’ She cinched the dressing gown again with sheer frustration, and sat on the end of the bed. ‘I just cannot understand Robert. He is totally selfish. Nattie will do anything for him, but he doesn’t like boats; and he’d had enough of Robert’s projects after today. Robert must have had some kind of lever to get Nattie to agree.’
Judith said slowly, ‘I think he was going to ask me. And the weather forecast must have made him change his mind.’
‘My God! I bet you he used that – told Nattie he’d come and wake you up – something ridiculous!’ She sighed sharply. ‘You have no idea about Robert. He’s twisted you around his finger. I can tell that.’
‘Not at all. But he is a great manipulator. I’ve watched you and Nathaniel being manipulated, but I would have been quite up to saying no to him. Especially on such a hare-brained idea as this; it’s worse than the river of gold, for goodness’ sake! Has someone tried to phone either of them?’
‘According to Irena Mann Robert refuses to get a mobile phone, and nobody took down Nattie’s number. They haven’t phoned here. Perhaps there’s no signal.’
Judith swung her legs to the floor. ‘I’ll get dressed and see if Bart has got hold of the police yet. And then, well, we’ve just got to get on as best we can until we get some news.’ Lightning flashed again, then came the thunder. Sybil gave a little scream.
Judith said, ‘Take it easy.’
‘Sorry. I’ve always been terrified of thunder. When we were kids Nattie used to tell me it was the clouds bumping into each other.’ Sybil looked small inside the oversized dressing gown. Easy to imagine the slightly older Nathaniel acting as a brother.
‘Oh.’ Judith looked at her. ‘You’re a chameleon, Sybil. Very changeable.’
‘Oh Lord. You’re starting to sound like Robert!’
‘Am I? You mean straight-talking? Perhaps I should have done that earlier. It makes things much simpler.’ She shrugged out of her dressing gown. ‘For instance, I’d be much happier – and quicker – if you went back to your room and got dressed. We’ll meet in the dining room.’
‘Well … OK. Sorry. After yesterday … we were all so close … and now—’
Judith said loudly, ‘Go!’
She turned the key in the lock again, threw on a clean sweatshirt and jeans and picked up the phone. It was dead. She rummaged in her bag and found her mobile. Nathaniel had insisted on giving his number to everyone last night, and she had been the only one to write it down. She tapped it out and waited, and the voicemail message came through. She said curtly, ‘Ring me back as soon as possible. We are all very worried about you. Especially Sybil.’
She returned the phone to her bag and found clean trainers on the floor of the wardrobe. Irena had taken all their muddy wet clothing away last night and promised it would be ready for packing in plenty of time. It struck Judith, not for the first time, that between them – and in spite of Hausmann – Bart and Irena ran things very well. Rough seas and power cuts had hardly made any difference to the comfort and service they provided. Judith made up her mind she would have a very straight talk indeed with Robert Hausmann, and point out one or two ways he might make life easier for them. That is, if he ever reappeared after this latest escapade.
She ran down the stairs, almost enjoying the way the lightning sent blazes of purple and gold through the stained-glass window and on to the carpeted foyer. Irena was wheeling one of the trolleys to the dining room and stopped automatically, almost cringing, as the thunder elbowed in a few seconds later.
She glanced up. ‘Oh, Mrs Freeman, I’m so worried about that nice Mr Jones. If anything has happened it will be Robert’s responsibility. Everyone knows that Lundy is always cut off in these Atlantic storms!’
Judith hurried to her side. ‘Mr Jones knows your brother-in-law very well; they are probably in the Dove Inn having breakfast as we speak.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised. After he left us that note, too. You’d think he’d have the courtesy to phone us, wouldn’t you? His idea of a joke, no doubt! I don’t know how Bart puts up with him, I really don’t.’
Bart appeared from the kitchen door with another trolley. ‘I put up with him very well, my dear. As should you. He rescued us from boring jobs in Portmeirion and set us up here doing what we do best.’ He smiled at Judith. ‘Don’t you agree it’s a good idea, Mrs Freeman? Space for his work – he can see now how very important it is to have a permanent hanging space – and time to develop some of his family portraits.’
Judith was surprised again. She said, ‘I had no idea that your brother was a man of means. He seems …’ She stopped, at a loss for words. Bart laughed.
‘Down and out?’ he supplied. ‘Far from it. He just likes to give that impression, of course, but there have always been buyers for his work. It looks good, it’s traditional, and it has a delicacy and sweetness; not quite nostalgia but bordering on it.’
Irena said, ‘You should be his PR, Bart.’
‘I would be, if he would let me.’ Bart smiled and continued into the dining room, speaking over his shoulder. ‘I’ve made coffee and toast for you and Mrs Jessup. Would you like poached eggs to go with that?’
‘Not for me, thank you.’ She trailed Irena to the Olsens’ table. It had been slightly embarrassing to listen to Irena getting what amounted to a dressing-down from her husband, but she herself was amazed at this latest revelation. Castle Dove’s incarnation as an hotel was financed by Hausmann? Nobody – but nobody – was what they seemed! She noticed that the Markhams were missing; surely they weren’t still in the orangery?
She caught her swirling thoughts. ‘Isn’t there anything we can do, Mrs Mann? Shouldn’t we try to get hold of the police or the coastguards?’
Irena said stiffly, ‘Bart has done all that. They are in touch with the Lundy people, but the signal is very weak.’
Sven Olsen said jovially, ‘Martin – our good driver, you know – has taken the little coach and is driving to Porlock to see if the boat of Mr Hausmann has gone, or if it is still moored safely.’
Margaret added quietly, ‘Stanley has gone with him. And Jennifer discovered she could get a signal on their phone if she sits in the west tower, so she is having her breakfast there.’ She looked directly at her husband. ‘And I will join her after we have eaten. Just she and I. Sven is going to walk to the Dove Inn to meet the others.’
Sybil, coming up behind the trolley, said, ‘But the storm … the lightning is so dangerous … surely it is better to wait here?’
Sven Olsen smiled reassuringly. ‘I am physically unable to sit and do nothing in the face of danger, my dear. Already I love Mr Hausmann like a brother. And Nathaniel is one of Nature’s gentlemen. I appreciate, very much, both of these Englishmen.’
Judith said, ‘That’s … that’s absolutely marvellous, Mr Olsen!’ She turned to Sybil. ‘Did you want eggs on your toast? I said not.’
‘No. Just toast will do.’ Sybil smiled briefly at Judith. ‘Difficult to eat breakfast in the face of all this …’ She waved her hand at the windows, where the rain was lashing and running like waterfalls.
‘Why don’t you come with me to the inn?’ Sven Olsen beamed.
‘I’ll see. I might. If only Nattie would phone.’
As if on cue, Judith’s phone began its peculiar chant in her bag. She fished it out and pressed a button. It was Nathaniel. She looked up and nodded at the others. They crowded closer. She pressed the tiny phone to her ear and said slowly and clearly, ‘Nathaniel, your voice is breaking up. Just tell us: are you safe?’
The roaring sound could be heard by everyone, and Judith caught a single word in the midst of it. It could have been ‘yes’. Another word surfaced above the interference. And then he was gone.
She terminated the call, still frowning with concentration. The others waited.
‘I’m really sorry, everyone.’ Judith looked round. ‘Did everyone hear him say “yes”? That’s what matters. There was another word. I think it was “must”. But with another syllable after. Almost like “mustard”.’ She smiled wryly. ‘At least we know they’re safe.’
Tension was released; they babbled wild guesses at various interpretations of that second word, but nobody could make much of it.
Judith and Sybil drifted to their table and Judith poured the coffee.
Sybil said, ‘At least we had that wonderful day at the top of the Lyn.’
‘And yesterday.’ Judith grinned. ‘All right, pretty hairy at the time, but retrospectively such … fun.’
‘I was thinking of the weather, actually. And I can’t go all the way with the fun idea.’ Sybil smiled ruefully. ‘Nattie gave me several lectures en route. And of course Robert always disapproved of me!’ She sighed. ‘But that last part in the orangery … oh, Jude, that was so romantic.’ She tightened her mouth against tears, and then said gaspingly, ‘Sorry. But it was the sort of thing Moss would have done: you know, the candles and the music.’
Judith put down her coffee cup and reached across the table to touch Sybil’s hand. It was impossible to relate the hard-nosed Moss Jessup lampooned by Jack to Sybil’s picture of him. There was just nothing she could say.
Sybil nodded and fished for a tissue, and managed a smile at Irena as she brought the toast and marmalade.
Irena noticed nothing amiss. ‘Bart and I were just talking in the kitchen. If none of you have urgent appointments for tomorrow, we would like to offer another day here. Martin has just returned from the inn, and he is able to fall in with that. The Olsens are rather doubtful; they will talk it over with Mr and Mrs Markham.’
Judith felt another small lift of spirit. The relief of knowing that Hausmann and Nathaniel were safe was now compounded by a possible delay in returning home.
Sybil said, ‘We’ll have to see. When the boys get back.’
Irena obviously had no idea who ‘the boys’ could be, but she murmured something and turned to welcome Stanley Markham, who was followed by Martin Morris. Margaret actually leapt up and kissed Stanley. Bart arrived, accompanying Jennifer, who burst into tears at the sight of Stanley. They hugged, rocking back and forth.
Martin held up his hands. ‘All we know is that Hausmann knocked them up at the inn just after midnight, and wanted the key to the garage where he keeps his motorbike. The weather was windy, but it was coming from upcountry, which means the landing beach at Lundy would have been usable. The landlord said it did not become really rough until around four in the morning, when one of the shutters came loose and woke him. So they had almost four hours to get to Porlock, drive the boat to Lundy, then back again.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘We went on to Porlock. The boat – Goalpost – is there. So we have no idea whether they actually did it or not.’
They all stared at him. Stanley Markham cradled his wife.
Sybil quavered, ‘But one way or another, surely that means they are safe?’
Martin Morris lifted his shoulders again. Stanley said, ‘I overheard Hausmann talking to Nathaniel last evening. The ladies had all gone to bed. He said it was a rescue operation.’ Everyone looked at him. He, too, shrugged helplessly. ‘That’s all I heard. Sorry.’
Sybil said bitterly, ‘That’s how he talked Nattie into going! Rescue operation, indeed!’
Margaret turned to her husband. ‘Sven, we must stay until we have some news of Nathaniel. He is, after all, one of our party.’
Sven said nothing. Judith said, ‘Of course we will all stay. It is so fortunate that Bart and Irena have our rooms until next weekend.’
Bart murmured reassurances. And then the telephone in the foyer began to ring and one or two lights came on. Lightning crackled ominously; the lights flickered but were still there as thunder crashed around the castle. Both Irena and Sybil jumped in unison. Bart ran to answer the phone. The others waited in uneasy silence.
Judith said, ‘Perhaps we should eat something. Everything will be back to normal soon—’
‘Bart seems a long time on that phone,’ Irena said tremulously.
‘Two minutes so far.’ Judith looked at Stanley who was still cradling his wife. ‘I think our two intrepids could manage some bacon? And coffee?’
Margaret Olsen took over and loaded two plates with food; Sven poured coffee. Judith spread marmalade on a triangle of toast and put it on Sybil’s plate.
‘Come on, have something to eat. This whole thing is getting out of hand. They’re both safe, just as we were yesterday after our adventure—’
‘Nothing like this, Judith.’ Sybil took a bite of toast nevertheless.
‘No,’ Judith agreed soberly, wondering what on earth Hausmann had up his sleeve this time; wondering if it would have persuaded her to get out of bed and go with him to Lundy.
Martin Morris was regaling the others with descriptions of the rainfall.
‘If it goes on much longer the Lyn will flood again at high tide,’ he forecast with a kind of doom-laden satisfaction.
Stanley shook his head. ‘They’ve put in flood protection. I’ve worked all my life in maritime engineering. Schemes to divert rivers. Barricades that turn the sea back in on itself.’
Judith leaned across the table. ‘Like the coastal cliffs. The sea itself has eaten them into concave shapes.’
Sybil smiled and nodded. ‘Perhaps, if we have to stay another night, we could sit in the Long Gallery – by the windows – and have another session. What do you say?’
‘Yes!’
Martin Morris was talking to Sven Olsen.
‘When the tide begins to ebb, probably midday, the weather could change. In which case I could take you back to Bristol, if you prefer.’
Sven looked across at Stanley and Jennifer. ‘I think our friends will want to stay until this mystery is cleared up. I cannot expect you to make the journey twice.’
‘I would ask you for petrol money only.’
Margaret said evenly, ‘I shall stay with Jennifer, of course.’
‘But we have to make our way to Newcastle for the ferry—’
‘Which does not sail until Saturday. If you remember, we planned to stay with Stanley and Jennifer. They have theatre tickets for Thursday evening. And Jennifer has invited another school friend for lunch on Wednesday.’ She spoke very clearly, emphasizing that English was his second language.
Sven flushed, but before he could reply Bart came back into the dining room. They all fell silent and stopped eating, looking across at him. Irena stood by his side.
Bart smiled. ‘It’s all right folks, relax, it’s not bad news; at least not as bad as we feared. Robert had a couple of artist friends staying over on Lundy, was going to visit them today, anyway. Then he heard last evening that one of them was ill, seriously ill, I gather. When the forecast was so ominous he decided to go over himself. He rang Lundy again, and was told that an air ambulance was on its way. Minutes later another call arrived: the wind was already too high for a take-off and landing. He recruited Nathaniel, and they left immediately. They landed on the east – the only safe landing beach on the island – and were met by three of the workers, who had stretchered the sick man to the beach. They returned immediately but had a long trip of it – blown off course – and eventually landed at Minehead, where they were met by an ambulance and taken to Taunton. Musgrove Park Hospital.’
Judith said, ‘Of course. I thought Nathaniel had said “mustard”!’
Stanley sat back, relieved. Sven said, ‘You see? All is well, just as I said.’
Margaret snapped, ‘Of course it’s not well! For goodness’ sake, Sven … the man is seriously ill … you heard—’
‘But he is in hospital and will be well cared for. Nothing to stop us going home later on.’
Stanley looked at Jennifer, who was now sitting sedately next to him and actually smiling. He smiled back at her. ‘I think we would like to stay another night.’ Her smile widened and she nodded.
Sybil said, ‘And I would like to see the boys before we go. Is that all right with you, Judith?’
Margaret said acidly, ‘I think the vote has gone against you, Sven.’
He was very red, but did his best. ‘I surrender!’ He smiled. ‘It will be interesting to watch the tide come in today. The weather is driving from the Atlantic, I believe.’
Jennifer’s smile revealed a pair of dimples. ‘Let’s watch it from the orangery. We explored yesterday afternoon, and found loads of candles and a marvellous old gramophone – His Master’s Voice – the genuine article!’
Judith did not meet Sybil’s knowing glance. She had thought of the orangery as a sort of shrine, and had no intention of trespassing there.
‘Sybil and I have already decided to sketch from the Long Gallery. We’ll see you at lunch. Perhaps the weather will have changed by then and we can venture out of doors.’
Bart started to clear the tables. ‘You are welcome to borrow stuff from my brother; his studio is in the south tower.’ He fished in the pocket of his overall. ‘Here’s the master key. Do go and look round. He would be delighted, honestly. He told me if you had longer here he would show you some of his more recent paintings. Apparently you said something about painting the family’s war memories. He has in fact tried to do so.’
Judith shook her head. ‘Perhaps he will get back before we leave.’
But Sybil leaned forward and took the key. ‘I would like to borrow some pastels.’ She smiled at Judith. ‘We always shared our stuff, Jude, don’t look so shocked. I won’t be long. Meet you in the Long Gallery.’
Judith watched her as she walked towards the lift. She wondered whether she knew that Hausmann was gay. She moved with a natural grace, thoughtlessly, self-confidently. Since yesterday when she had reacquainted herself with both men, she had changed again.
Judith sighed and started to clear their table on to a trolley. Bart said, ‘Let me, Judith. Believe it or not, you are on holiday!’
She laughed and used one of her mother’s truisms to put him at ease. ‘A change is as good as a rest. Certainly true in my case. I was going quietly crazy at home.’
She trundled the trolley to the kitchen. ‘Are you older or younger than your brother? Did you play hopscotch with him?’
‘I’m seven years older than Rob. Quite a big difference when it came to the games we played. I was more interested in Welsh rugby at that time. But I knew immediately that Sybil Jessup was Esmée Gould!’
She smiled as she left him and went up the stairs. Sometimes it all sounded so completely normal. But then again, as her mother might well have said, ‘It depends what you call normal.’
She went into her room and picked up her canvas bag. She felt around for her phone and tapped in the familiar home number. The answering machine clicked in. She left her room and went along the landing to the double doors which led directly into the Long Gallery.