the whole thing should be forgotten.”
“It was not the, for want of a better word, performance by Dan Poke, to which I was, by the same token, referring.”
“Then, to what were you, ‘by the same token, referring’?”
Carole couldn’t resist quoting Greville Tilbrook back at himself, but he didn’t seem to notice her mockery as he replied, “I am referring to something which, by any stretch of the imagination, and when all’s said and done, is undoubtedly more important than that.”
“Ah, you mean the murder?”
“No, Mrs Seddon! Are you being deliberately obtuse?”
“I have never been deliberately obtuse in my life!”
“I am referring, Mrs Seddon, to what you told Beryl you had seen!” Carole could only look bewildered. She wasn’t aware of having told Beryl she’d seen anything. Greville Tilbrook went on, “Listen, none of us is, as it were, perfect. And, for my sins, I am not excluding myself, to be quite honest, from that category. The fact is that Margaret, my wife, whom I do not believe you have, up until this moment in time, had the pleasure of meeting…?”
Carole confirmed that she hadn’t.
“Well, Margaret is a very fine woman. Had we had any children, though we were not blessed in that way, she would undoubtedly have been an excellent mother to them. She is universally acknowledged to be, and this is something I can vouch for myself, a very fine housekeeper – or even, as I believe the popular phrase is these days, ‘homemaker’. She also has a commendable sense of civic responsibility. Margaret and I have, hitherto, lived a life of few arguments and, one cannot avoid the phrase, considerable domestic happiness. But, if I were to venture a criticism of my lovely wife – which I am only doing now, because of the gravity of the current situation – it might be that she is less affectionate than others of her sex – or should one say ‘gender’ nowadays – might, in the final analysis, be.”
Carole didn’t supply any further prompts. She just listened in amazement as Greville Tilbrook continued, “But when I met Beryl, I discovered that I had found a woman of, not to put too fine a point on it, a woman of considerably greater
Carole gaped. “Are you saying that you and Beryl are having an affair?”
“Of course that’s what I’m saying! And don’t pretend you don’t know, Mrs Seddon! After all, you’re the one who told Beryl that you’d seen us together last Sunday in the Crown and Anchor car park.”
Her knee-jerk reaction was immediately to explain that that hadn’t been what she meant, but she managed to curb the instinct. Having an embarrassed, apologetic Greville Tilbrook on the back foot would be infinitely more useful than facing his normal self-righteous persona. So, in a voice which she thought rather neatly combined pity and disapprobation, she said, “Well, you must understand, Mr Tilbrook, that the situation does put me in something of a quandary…”
“Yes, I can see that, Mrs Seddon.”
“Because, although I obviously have no wish to do harm to any other human being, one cannot forget that there is a moral dimension.”
“Oh, I do so agree.”
“So what would your advice to me be on what to do next?”
“Nothing! Don’t tell anyone!” The verbal simplicity of his answer was a measure of his panic.
Carole let him sweat for a moment before responding. “And that would be my instinctive reaction, Mr Tilbrook. I’m not a busybody. I have no wish to destroy a marriage…”
“Oh, thank you so much, Mrs Seddon.”
“…but, on the other hand, there is more than just a marriage to be considered here.”
He gaped at her. “How do you mean?”
“Like you, I also have a sense of civic responsibility. And unfortunately, the evening which you chose to canoodle with your girlfriend in the Crown and Anchor car park…in your car, was it?”
“Her car.”
The image of the highly respectable Greville Tilbrook and Black Watch Beryl grappling in the confined space of a Smart car was irresistibly funny. Carole had difficulty restraining her laughter, as she asked, “And your canoodling took place, I assume, after the two other lady protesters had gone home?” He nodded. “Well, unfortunately, on that very evening there was a fight at the Crown and Anchor, which led to someone being stabbed to death.”
“I know that, Mrs Seddon! That is why I am so concerned that my, as it were, peccadillo should be kept quiet.”
Carole nodded sagely, enjoying her complete control of the situation. “I can see that, yes.” She let him agonize through another silence. “So was it the outbreak of the fight that caused you to leave Beryl’s car?”
“No. I took the view, as it were, that during the fighting, it might be a better plan of action for me to, not to put too fine a point on it, lie low.”
“In Beryl’s car?”
“Yes.”
“With Beryl?”
“Yes.”
“So what did you do when the police arrived?”
“As soon as I heard what can only be described as the sirens, and saw the, as it were, blue lights, I took the decision that discretion was, not for the first time in my life, the better part of valour and, not wishing to beat about the bush, I made my escape.”
“With Beryl? I saw a Smart car driving like crazy across the dunes with all the bikers.”
“No, I thought it might be exacerbating the, as it were, risk, if I were to stay in the car. Beryl drove off on her own.”
Carole was suddenly alert. “So which way did you escape? You didn’t go back along the road into the village?”
“No, I thought that, since that was the direction from which the police were arriving, it might perhaps not be the wisest of courses – and might indeed prompt questioning of a kind that I was anxious to avoid, should I have taken that route…”
Carole couldn’t resist turning the knife in the wound of his embarrassment. “I’m very surprised, Mr Tilbrook, that you, such a stern advocate of civic responsibility, did not stay to offer the police any assistance they might want from you as a witness to what had happened at the Crown and Anchor that night.”
His mouth opened and closed like that of a goldfish. Greville Tilbrook couldn’t come up with a single word, let alone a subordinate clause.
Carole had played with him long enough. “So which way did you escape?” she asked urgently.
“I thought if I went past the pub down to the beach, I could walk along to the Fether estuary and go back into the village that way.”
“So you went past the back door of the Crown and Anchor, the one that leads into the kitchen?”
“I suppose I must have done.”
Now finally she had an explanation for the sound of retreating footsteps on the shingle that she and Jude had heard that night.
“And did you see anything?” He hesitated. “Mr Tilbrook, I am prepared to keep quiet about what I know of your shabby escapade with Beryl…” (or rather what you were generous enough to tell me of your shabby escapade with Beryl) “…on the condition that you tell me everything you witnessed at the back of the pub last Sunday evening.”
He weighed his options. The process didn’t take long. “Very well,” he capitulated, “if you swear you’ll never breathe a word about me and Beryl…?”
“I swear it.”
“I saw two figures outside the back door of the Crown and Anchor. I was hurrying past, I couldn’t see much
