But did she? Surely she must have followed the children later, after Otto sailed. But where to? Bockenod, where her husband's brother, the self-important Sir John, lived? Too far. Something was missing. She had mentioned another name. Treg something. I must look on the map. The trouble was that every other farmhouse in Cornwall began with Tre. It had not been Trevenna, Treverran or Trenadlyn. So where was it that Isolda and her two children had lain their heads that night?
'I don't see myself doing this often,' complained Vita. 'My heaven, what a hill! It's like the ski slopes in Vermont. Let me take your arm.' The thing was, they had crossed the water-splash below the mill and taken a track to the right. And then I had not seen them any more, because of that car coming up behind me. They could have gone in any direction. And Roger was on foot. When the tide came in the ford would be fully covered. I tried to remember if there was a boat beneath the blacksmith's forge to ferry him back.
'After all this exercise and air I ought to sleep tonight,' said Vita.
'Yes,' I replied.
There had been a boat. High and dry on the edge of the creek. At high water this would be used for carrying passengers to and fro between the blacksmith's forge and Treesmill.
'You couldn't care less, could you,' she asked, 'what sort of a night I have, and whether I'm dead on my feet right now?' I stopped and stared at her. 'I'm sorry, darling,' I said, 'of course I care. Why revert suddenly to that business of a sleepless night?'
'You were miles away in thought — I can always tell,' she said.
'Four miles at the most,' I told her. 'If you really want to know, I was thinking about a couple of children riding ponies I saw this morning. I wondered where they were going.'
'Ponies?' We continued walking, Vita a dead weight on my arm. 'Well, that's the most sensible thought you've had yet,' she said. 'The boys love riding. Maybe the ponies were let out on hire?'
'I doubt it,' I said. 'I imagine they came from some farm.'
'Well, you could always make enquiries. Nice-looking children?'
'Enchanting. Two little girls, and a youngish woman who looked as if she might be their nurse, and a couple of men.'
'All riding ponies?'
'One man was walking, holding the children's bridles.'
'Then it must be a riding-school,' she said. Do find out. 'It would make something for the boys to do other than swimming or sailing.'
'Yes,' I said.
How convenient it would be if I could summon Roger from the past and bid him saddle two of the Kilmarth ponies for Teddy and Micky, then send them off with Robbie for a gallop on Par sands! Roger would handle Vita to perfection. Her slightest whim obeyed. Juice of henbane whistled up from Brother Jean at the Priory to induce a restful night, and if that failed… I smiled.
'What's the joke?'
'No joke.' I pointed to the fading foxgloves, a purple mass thrusting tall stems through the hedge encircling the paddocks below Kilmarth. 'If you have a heart attack, no problem. Digitalis comes from foxgloves. You've only to say the word and I'll crush the seeds.'
'Thanks a lot. No doubt your Professor's laboratory is full of them, along with other poisonous seeds and goodness knows what sinister mixtures.'
How right she was. An error, though, to let her dwell on Magnus. 'Here we are,' I said. 'Through that gate and into the garden. I'll mix you a long, cool drink, and the boys as well. Then I'll cope with the supper.'
'Plenty of cold beef and salad.'
Let cheerfulness prevail. Memories of my mis-spent morning fade into an urge to please. Attentive husband, smiling stepfather; keep the whole thing going to bedtime and beyond.
As it turned out, beyond took care of itself. The swim, the long climb and the soporific Cornish air had done their trick. Vita, yawning her head off at a television play, was in bed by ten, and fast asleep when I crept in stealthily beside her an hour later. Tomorrow would be fine, judging by the sky, and we would sail to Chapel Point. Bodrugan existed still. I had found it on the road-map after supper.
There was just enough breeze to take us out of Fowey harbour. Our skipper, Tom, a stalwart fellow with a ready smile, busied himself with the sails, aided or hindered by the boys, while I stationed myself at the tiller. I knew just enough about it not to bring the boat up into the wind and set the sails flapping, but neither Vita nor the boys knew this, and were suitably impressed by my air of efficiency. Soon we had mackerel lines astern, the boys hauling them in with shouts of excitement as soon as they felt the slightest tug, caused by the ripple of tide or a piece of weed, while Vita stretched herself at my side. Her jeans became her — like all Americans, she had a stunning figure — and so did her scarlet sweater.
'This is heaven,' she said, snuggling close and leaning her head against my shoulder. 'So clever of you to arrange it, I give you full marks for once. The water couldn't be smoother.'
The trouble was, it didn't stay heaven for long. I remembered of old, after passing the Cannis buoy and the Gribbin Head, a westerly wind met the tide with a smacking force, increasing the boat's speed — always a joy to the helmsman with his heart in his job, like Commander Lane — but causing the craft to heel over, so that the passenger sitting on the leeward side found himself within a few inches of the sea. In this case the passenger was Vita.
'Hadn't you better let the man steer?' she said nervously, after the boat had curtseyed three times like a rocking-horse — my fault, too close to the wind — then lay firmiy on her side with the lea rail awash.
'Not a bit of it,' I said cheerfully. 'Crawl under the boom and sit on the weather side.'
She groped to her feet, and caught her head an almighty tonk on the boom. As I bent to help her unravel a rope from her ankle, which took my eye off my work as helmsman, I shipped a short sea across the bows, thus drenching the whole party, myself included.
'A drop of salt water hurts nobody,' I shouted, but the boys, clinging to the weather rail, were not so sure, and with their mother made a dive for the shelter of the small cabin, which, lacking headroom, forced them to crouch like hunchbacks on the tiny locker seat, where they rose and fell with every curtsey of the over-lively craft.
'Nice fresh breeze,' said our skipper Tom, grinning all over his face. 'We'll be at Mevagissey in no time at all.'
I bared my teeth in imitation of his confidence, but the three white faces upturned to me in the cockpit lacked enthusiasm, and I had the impression that none of them shared the skipper's opinion about the breeze.
He offered me a cigarette, but it proved an error after three puffs, and I let it fall over the side when he was not looking, while he proceeded to light up a particularly noxious pipe. Some of the smoke found its way down to the cabin and circled there in rings.
The lady would feel the motion less if she sat in the cockpit, suggested Tom, and the lads as well.
I looked at the boys. The boat was steady enough now, but penned in the dark cabin they felt every thump, and an ominous yawn appeared on Micky's face. Vita, her eyes glazed, appeared hypnotised by Tom's oilskin, which was hanging on a hook by the cabin door, swaying to and fro with the boat's motion like a hanging man.
Tom and I exchanged glances, seized by a sudden freemasonry, and while he took over the tiller and knocked out his pipe I pulled the family up into the cockpit, where Vita and her youngest were promptly sick.
Teddy survived, possibly because he kept his head averted.
'We'll soon be under the lea of Black Head,' said Tom. 'They won't feel any motion in there.'
His touch on the tiller was like magic. Or perhaps it was pure chance. The rocking-horse motion moved to a gentle lilt, the white faces lost their pallor, teeth ceased their chattering, and the pasties baked by Mrs. Collins were torn from their napkins in the basket and fallen upon by all of us, even Vita, with the ferocity of carrion crows. We passed Mevagissey and came to anchor on the western side of Chapel Point. There was not a tremor in sea or sky, and the sun blazed down.
'Rather extraordinary,' observed Vita, now stripped of her sweater, which she bunched under her head as a pillow, 'that as soon as Tom took charge of the boat it scarcely moved at all and the wind dropped.'
'Not really,' I said. 'We were coming closer to the land, that's all.'
'I know one thing,' she said, 'and that is that he's going to steer the boat home.'
