'See you next week at Liz's,' Alex said to Jane, which made Liz feel even worse.
She battled through the sticky crowd of pensioners and holidaymakers, past the mobile library parked on the green, the post office, whose window displayed Alan's books beneath a hand-painted 'Local Author' arrow, the hairdresser's where old ladies sat with their heads in egg-shaped helmets like the victims of a mad scientist on an old pulp magazine cover. Her headache was worsening – it felt as if a metal band was jerking tighter around her head -and she was desperate to talk. She went into The Stone Shop to see Rebecca.
The shop was full of creatures made of shells and pebbles, carved boxes containing polished stones, multicoloured arrays selected from the beach, larger stones made into ashtrays, candle-holders, cruet-stands. Rebecca was trotting about, fussing over her creations with a feather duster. She was a small square woman who wore voluminous clothes as grey as her hair, and was Liz's best friend in the village. 'That's a pretty dress you're almost wearing,' she said to Anna. 'I wish I could dress for the weather.
Would you like to go in the back and see if you can make me a creature? I'll give you some shells.'
As soon as Anna was out of the way, carefully gluing shells together in the workshop, Rebecca said, 'What's up? You look like I feel.'
Liz threw herself into the rickety chair behind the counter. 'I've just seen Jane,' she said.
'Oh? She was in here before with her latest petition. I suppose she needs to feel she can still organize. Apparently she had quite a well-paid secretarial job before she had Georgie. Why, what was she saying to you?'
'It wasn't Jane, it was Alex Amis. She came tarting along, telling Jane how to look after Georgie and virtually saying outright that Derek tells her all the family problems. And you know Jane – she just stood there blaming herself and getting into an even worse state.'
'They make me sick, all three of them. You saw Alex here that day when she came bursting in with the news that she'd seen Derek in London with another woman. You could see how it excited her, little bitch – for all her drivelling on about poor pregnant Jane and how wicked it was of him to treat her that way. I suppose it must have made her want some herself.'
'Well, I'm inviting the Walterses for dinner, though God knows what good that'll do.' Nevertheless she felt somewhat better for talking. 'And what was your problem?'
'Oh, that.' Rebecca was apologetic. 'There's a thief about, that's all. A couple of things have gone missing in the last few weeks, just small things. I think I know who it is, but I want to be sure before I do anything. Now let's talk about something else. Stay and have coffee with me while Anna finishes her masterpiece.'
They sat sipping coffee and talking summer talk: how Rebecca's shop was doing well, how Liz needed to find Anna more to do during the holidays. 'That's lovely, Anna,' Rebecca said, as she washed up the cups, and Liz agreed: Anna had created a tortoise with pebbly head and feet poking from beneath its seashell. 'Do you want to leave it while the glue dries and collect it next time? Maybe you could come in sometimes and help me make them.'
Liz hurried to the village's only supermarket for meat, vegetables and wine, Anna pushing the shopping trolley and plaguing her with questions. 'What are tits, mummy? What will Mrs Amis do in her underwear? What did Rebecca mean when she said that Mrs Amis wanted some herself? Can I really help Rebecca in the shop?'
That at least was easily answered. 'I think she meant it, Anna. We'll have to see.' When she'd loaded her shoulder-bag they followed the curve of the village toward the sea front, past the hotels and raucous arcades. Seagulls wheeled above supine deckchairs and sunbathers on the narrow beach. Eventually, when Anna had been persuaded away from the deafening electronic pinball tables, they reached the Britannia Hotel.
It was a long three-storey castellated building, a fortress with a teddy-bear in one window. Gail Marshall, the manageress, was at the desk in the foyer, by the potted plants and the goldfish pool. Children screamed happily in the playground behind the hotel, while parents and pensioners sat in the bar. Gail was delighted that Liz had decided to help in the nursery during the holidays, and Liz was tempted to stay for a drink, but Anna was restless. Hefting her shoulder-bag, Liz made for the beach.
The sea came pouring down from the horizon, parting into slower waves where it reached the groynes. Down here, the sea always looked higher than you were. Sand dotted with pebbles led from the water's edge to the larger stones, which formed a strip against the sea wall. Beyond the wall, nine feet or so above the beach, some of the rocks were big as boulders.
At first Anna raced along the stones, crying 'Chase me.' Then as soon as she saw that Liz was following, she dodged across the soft sand to the dark hard strip of beach at the water's edge. Liz struggled along the soft strip and clambering over the timber groynes, marvelled at Anna's agility. Just now she looked as unselfconscious as some young leggy animal, yet when she went to the hotel dressed up for the occasional special dinner, Liz felt moved to see how quickly she was growing up.
By the time Liz passed the church up there on the cliff, Anna was a hundred yards ahead. A couple of gravestones leaned precipitously over the edge of the cliff; Liz was always a little afraid that one day a grave and its contents might come sliding down. 'Slow down a bit, Anna!' she called breathlessly, but the little girl had already halted, seeing a figure ahead. 'Here's Joseph,' she cried.
They often saw Joseph on the beach – Joseph, who wore his long grubby raincoat whatever the weather, its pockets bulging with stones. He lived on the far side of the village with his father, who looked after the grounds of the Britannia Hotel and gave donkey-rides along the beach. Now and then he would take his stones to Rebecca, who usually selected a few and made him accept money for them. He was about thirty – Liz wasn't sure exactly how old – and quite harmless.
He came running up to Anna, his bow-legged, stumbling gait unmistakable even from half a mile away. He was pointing eagerly at the horizon. 'Can you see the ship? Someone stuck it up there, didn't they? I had a farm in a box where you stuck in the animals to make them stand up. And I had a book where the animals jumped up when you opened it. Boo!' he shouted, leaping up clumsily in front of her and waving his arms.
Anna laughed and held his hand as they made for the path to the top of the cliff. To begin with, Liz had been afraid that Anna might giggle at him, but she accepted him quite happily – in fact, sometimes she was more tolerant of him than Liz managed to be, since he couldn't stop talking. Now he was fumbling in his pocket for stones. 'Look, here's a hole where something hatched out. Here's one with glittery stuff inside – that's sugar, isn't it? And here's a humbug,' he said, putting the striped stone into his mouth and spitting it out at once.
'You shouldn't put stones in your mouth,' Anna said. 'And I don't think things hatch out of stones.'
Joseph was too busy crawling about in search of his stone to heed her. He pocketed it carefully and went stooping off in search of more. 'Look where the sea burns the sand,' he said, pointing at the patterns the waves had left, dark flames in the sand at the edge of the sea.
Liz and Anna climbed the winding path toward the pillbox. As they reached the cliff top Joseph overtook them and sauntered toward the goats. 'Here, goat. Here, goaty-goaty-goat.' The female came to him first and then, as he dropped on all fours to nuzzle their faces, the kids.
Liz and Anna made for home. 'Bye-bye, Joseph,' they called.
'I'm coming now.' He struggled to his feet at once and ran to catch up. Anna grabbed his hand and ran with him toward the house. 'Joseph can have a glass of milk, can't he?' she said.
^ 4 I suppose so.' Liz didn't mind having Joseph in the house, but Alan might object to hearing him while he was writing. By the time she reached the back door he was already in the living-room, where Anna was showing him Liz's paintings. 'Don't touch anything,' Liz said, looking at Anna but meaning him as well, and was heading upstairs to warn Alan he was here when he picked up the claw from the mantelpiece.
He must have scratched himself, for he didn't just drop it but flung it away, onto a chair. 'Oh no, Joseph mustn't,' he said in a strange shaky voice.
At least he hadn't damaged the claw. Liz would have felt it served him right, except that he was upsetting Anna. He backed away as Anna went to see what he'd done to himself. 'Mustn't,' he said to himself, and floundered away from her into the hall, where after a panicky struggle he managed to open the front door.
Anna looked puzzled and hurt as she followed him. Liz went after her in case Joseph might upset her further. He was out of the garden now, dancing agitatedly back and forth, stretching his hands out to Anna, flinching back from the gate. 'Don't stay there,' he cried. 'Don't you let them.'
When Liz touched her arm, Anna flinched. 'It's all right,' Liz murmured. 'You know he's a bit odd sometimes.' She steered Anna back toward the house, more firmly when the child seemed to be resisting. She tried to gesture
