the fun.' There's no dragging him away; he's as bad as my little boy. I don't see anything in it myself.'
'No, there's not much to see now,' said the coastguard.
'Those are nice-looking woods over there; I suppose they're private,' said the woman.
The coastguard coughed awkwardly, and glanced at me. I began eating a piece of grass and looked away.
'Yes, that's all private in there,' he said.
'My husband says all these big estates will be chopped up in time and bungalows built,' said the woman. 'I wouldn't mind a nice little bungalow up here facing the sea. I don't know that I'd care for this part of the world in the winter though.'
'No, it's very quiet here winter times,' said the coastguard.
I went on chewing my piece of grass. The little boy kept running round in circles. The coastguard looked at his watch. 'Well, I must be getting on,' he said; 'good afternoon!' He saluted me, and turned back along the path towards Kerrith. 'Come on, Charlie, come and find Daddy,' said the woman.
She nodded to me in friendly fashion, and sauntered off to the edge of the cliff, the little boy running at her heels. A thin man in khaki shorts and a striped blazer waved to her. They sat down by a clump of gorse bushes and the woman began to undo paper packages.
I wished I could lose my own identity and join them. Eat hard-boiled eggs and potted meat sandwiches, laugh rather loudly, enter their conversation, and then wander back with them during the afternoon to Kerrith and paddle on the beach, run races across the stretch of sand, and so to their lodgings and have shrimps for tea. Instead of which I must go back alone through the woods to Manderley and wait for Maxim. And I did not know what we should say to one another, how he would look at me, what would be his voice. I went on sitting there on the cliff. I was not hungry. I did not think about lunch.
More people came and wandered over the cliffs to look at the ship. It made an excitement for the afternoon. There was nobody I knew. They were all holiday-makers from Kerrith. The sea was glassy calm. The gulls no longer wheeled overhead, they had settled on the water a little distance from the ship. More pleasure boats appeared during the afternoon. It must be a field day for Kerrith boatmen. The diver came up and then went down again. One of the tugs steamed away while the other still stood by. The harbour-master went back in his grey motor boat, taking some men with him, and the diver who had come to the surface for the second time. The crew of the ship leant against the side throwing scraps to the gulls, while visitors in pleasure boats rowed slowly round the ship. Nothing happened at all. It was dead low water now, and the ship was heeled at an angle, the propeller showing clean. Little ridges of white cloud formed in the western sky and the sun became pallid. It was still very hot. The woman in the pink striped frock with the little boy got up and wandered off along the path towards Kerrith, the man in the shorts following with the picnic basket.
I glanced at my watch. It was after three o' clock. I got up and went down the hill to the cove. It was quiet and deserted as always. The shingle was dark and grey. The water in the little harbour was glassy like a mirror. My feet made a queer crunching noise as I crossed the shingle. The ridges of white cloud now covered all the sky above my head, and the sun was hidden. When I came to the further side of the cove I saw Ben crouching by a little pool between two rocks scraping winkles into his hand. My shadow fell upon the water as I passed, and he looked up and saw me.
'G' day,' he said, his mouth opening in a grin.
'Good afternoon,' I said.
He scrambled to his feet and opened a dirty handkerchief he had filled with winkles.
'You eat winkles?' he said.
I did not want to hurt his feelings. 'Thank you,' I said.
He emptied about a dozen winkles into my hand, and I put them in die two pockets of my skirt. 'They'm all right with bread-an'-butter,' he said, 'you must boil 'em first.'
'Yes, all right,' I said.
He stood there grinning at me. 'Seen the steamer?' he said.
'Yes,' I said, 'she's gone ashore, hasn't she?'
'Eh?' he said.
'She's run aground,' I repeated. 'I expect she's got a hole in her bottom.'
His face went blank and foolish. 'Aye,' he said, 'she's down there all right. She'll not come back again.'
'Perhaps the tugs will get her off when the tide makes,' I said.
He did not answer. He was staring out towards the stranded ship. I could see her broadside on from here, the red underwater section showing against the black of the top-sides, and the single funnel leaning rakishly towards the cliffs beyond. The crew were still leaning over her side feeding the gulls and staring into the water. The rowing-boats were pulling back to Kerrith.
'She's a Dutchman, ain't she?' said Ben.
'I don't know,' I said. 'German or Dutch.'
'She'll break up there where she's to,' he said.
'I'm afraid so,' I said.
He grinned again, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
'She'll break up bit by bit,' he said, 'she'll not sink like a stone like the little 'un.' He chuckled to himself, picking his nose. I did not say anything. 'The fishes have eaten her up by now, haven't they?' he said.
'Who?' I said.
He jerked his thumb towards the sea. 'Her,' he said, 'the other one.'
'Fishes don't eat steamers, Ben,' I said.
'Eh?' he said. He stared at me, foolish and blank once more.
'I must go home now,' I said; 'good afternoon.'
I left him and walked towards the path through the woods. I did not look at the cottage. I was aware of it on my right hand; grey and quiet. I went straight to the path and up through the trees. I paused to rest half-way and looking through the trees I could still see the stranded ship leaning towards the shore. The pleasure boats had all gone. Even the crew had disappeared below. The ridges of cloud covered the whole sky. A little wind sprang from nowhere and blew into my face. A leaf fell onto my hand from the tree above. I shivered for no reason. Then the wind went again, it was hot and sultry as before. The ship looked desolate there upon her side, with no one on her decks, and her thin black funnel pointing to the shore. The sea was so calm that when it broke upon the shingle in the cove it was like a whisper, hushed and still. I turned once more to the steep path through the woods, my legs reluctant, my head heavy, a strange sense of foreboding in my heart.
The house looked very peaceful as I came upon it from the woods and crossed the lawns. It seemed sheltered and protected, more beautiful than I had ever seen it. Standing there, looking down upon it from the banks, I realised, perhaps for the first time, with a funny feeling of bewilderment and pride that it was my home, I belonged there, and Manderley belonged to me. The trees and the grass and the flower tubs on the terrace were reflected in the mullioned windows. A thin column of smoke rose in the air from one of the chimneys. The new-cut grass on the lawn smelt sweet as hay. A blackbird was singing on the chestnut tree. A yellow butterfly winged his foolish way before me to the terrace.
I went into the hall and through to the dining-room. My place was still laid, but Maxim's had been cleared away. The cold meat and salad awaited me on the sideboard. I hesitated, and then rang the dining-room bell. Robert came in from behind the screen.
'Has Mr de Winter been in?' I said. 'Yes, Madam,' said Robert; 'he came in just after two, and had a quick lunch, and then went out again. He asked for you and Frith said he thought you must have gone down to see the ship.'
'Did he say when he would be back again?' I asked. 'No, Madam.'
'Perhaps he went to the beach another way,' I said; 'I may have missed him.'
'Yes, Madam,' said Robert.
I looked at the cold meat and the salad. I felt empty but not hungry. I did not want cold meat now. 'Will you be taking lunch?' said Robert.
'No,' I said. 'No, you might bring me some tea, Robert, in the library. Nothing like cakes or scones. Just tea and bread-and-butter.'
'Yes, Madam.'
