‘Right across to the far bank. You see the track that runs back across the fields, just before the trees start on that side?’ Josephine nodded. ‘That’s where Shilling came out. He was in a shocking state – absolutely terrified.’
Josephine looked across Loe Bar, a short band of sand and shingle – no more than a few hundred feet wide – which separated the lake from the sea. It was an extraordinary experience to be able to take in these very different stretches of water in a single view. She was at once enchanted by the unique, detached beauty of the place and fascinated by its violent past; hundreds of people must have died at sea along this stretch of coast, their bodies buried without ceremony where they came ashore, and their souls scorned by the church which stood at the head of the Bar, its stones looking smugly out towards the unmarked graves from the safety of their own sanctified earth.
The beach now was a very different spot from the one she’d been in a few hours ago – the one which was deserted except for what she thought was the body of a young girl. The cricket match – Loe House versus the rest of the estate – was due to get underway shortly, and people had been arriving for the last half-hour or so, dressed in varying shades of white, warming up as if they meant business and seemingly undeterred by the erratic nature of the pitch. The sound of a motorbike drifted across from the track, and shortly afterwards she saw Archie walk leisurely across the sand to where William was gathering his team together. Nearby, the Snipe was spreading crisp, clean linen over a couple of trestle tables and organising her band of cricket wives, who obeyed her instructions with a military deference. Obviously they would have to do without the smell of freshly cut grass and the tap of boot studs on a wooden pavilion floor, but everything else she expected from an English cricket match was in place. The only note that jarred slightly was walking across the sand towards her: Ronnie’s exquisite wide-brimmed straw hat would have been more in keeping at Henley or Ascot.
‘Those tables have come down here from the wake with indecent haste,’ Ronnie said, looking over her sunglasses. ‘I hope they’ve scrubbed them well.’
Josephine laughed. ‘They don’t actually use them for the body, so I think you’ll be all right.’
‘You didn’t see some of the people at the funeral,’ Ronnie retorted.
Lettice glanced across to where the Snipe was unwrapping plate after plate of sandwiches and cakes. ‘I think I’ll risk it,’ she said, and got up from her deckchair. ‘Looks like Pa’s won the toss, so I’d better go and pad up. Wish me luck.’
‘I didn’t know she was playing,’ Josephine said, impressed, as Lettice walked away.
Ronnie sat down in the vacant deckchair. ‘They don’t call her the Slogger for nothing, you know.’
‘She must be solid if she’s opening.’
‘Oh God, don’t tell me you actually understand the bloody game,’ Ronnie groaned. ‘I was sure I’d have an ally in someone from the land of brown heath and shaggy wood.’
‘And I thought cricket would be right up your street. There’s something very elegant about all those men in white.’
‘Nonsense, dear. Cricket whites have exactly the same effect on a man’s looks as alcohol has on his mood – they just emphasise what’s there already, for better or worse.’
As Archie walked over to say hello, Josephine decided that it was certainly the former in his case, but Ronnie seemed unimpressed by her cousin. ‘I have to say, your daywear has been a little monochrome so far this visit,’ she said to him. ‘Perhaps tomorrow you might be tempted to strike out into a daring shade of grey?’
‘We can’t all be Ivor Novello,’ Archie said good-naturedly, lightly throwing a cricket ball into her lap and helping himself to a cigarette from the case which Ronnie had brought with her.
‘Isn’t it time you got started?’ she asked, lighting it for him. ‘You take all day about it as it is.’
‘We can’t start yet – we’ve only got one umpire and the other team’s a man short. Jago and Christopher haven’t turned up.’
‘Good, then I’ve got time to see the Snipe about some drinks. Come and get me if I’m not back in time for the beginning.’
‘For a non-believer, you seem very keen not to miss anything,’ Josephine said.
‘I’ve got no choice, dear – I’m supposed to be scoring. But you can help me as you’re such an expert.’ She strolled off, and Archie sat down on the sand to put his pads on.
‘Are you in at number three?’
‘Four, but it’s best to be prepared. Our number two’s very unpredictable and Lettice will either stay there all day or be caught behind in the first over.’
‘Is that gamekeeper here?’ Josephine asked.
‘Jacks? Yes, he’s their wicket-keeper.’ He pointed to a tall, broad-chested man with curly black hair and a moustache. ‘Why?’
‘I always like to put a face to a gun.’ She watched Jacks practising with one of his team-mates. He was younger than she had expected, and had an effortless strength about him. She could only imagine what it must be like to be on the receiving end of a blow from one of those fists, and she wondered again what she should do about the secret she had unwittingly walked in on.
‘Here’s our missing umpire,’ Archie said, as a white-haired man hurried down the slope, holding his hand up in apology. ‘Looks like he’s on his own, though.’
They heard William call across the sand to the late arrival. ‘Where’s Christopher?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ the other man shouted back impatiently. ‘He hasn’t slept in his bed, and there’s no sign of him this morning. I would have been here earlier, but I’m having to do everything without him and I’ve only just got back from the Union.’
‘Don’t worry – you’re here now.’
‘I won’t be able to stay for the whole match, though,’ Jago called, struggling into a white coat. ‘Mrs Trevelyan’s not got long and I can’t stand round here all day. Her grandson’s coming to fetch me when I’m needed.’
‘Christopher’s his son?’ Josephine asked as the umpire walked out to the middle of the rough and ready pitch.
‘Yes. He was the one I told you about who nearly dropped the coffin.’
‘He was in the churchyard late last night, near Harry’s grave.’
Archie looked at her in surprise. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Loveday told me.’ As Lettice walked out to the crease – or the closest approximation that the Bar could manage – she told Archie what had happened earlier that morning. ‘I was just glad to see she was all right,’ she said, looking around for Ronnie. There was no sign of her, so Josephine picked up the scorebook. ‘It worried me to think of her wandering round late at night so soon after her brother’s death.’
‘Yes, although it’s not unusual for Loveday to be on her own,’ Archie said, and Josephine wondered if he realised quite how alone the girl felt. ‘I saw Morwenna on the way here, and she said she’d got back all right.’
‘What was their relationship like? Harry and Morwenna, I mean.’
Archie considered for a moment. ‘They were always close as children,’ he said, ‘in that exclusive way that twins often are. It was a very carefree sort of thing, as far as I can remember, even as they grew up. Neither of them was particularly responsible – but then I was that bit older, and the next generation did seem carefree coming out of the war. It was hard for people my age not to resent that, I suppose. It all changed when their parents died, though. They had to grow up suddenly and pull together, so it was a different kind of relationship – but still close.’
There was a triumphant cry from the pitch, and several of the fielding side ran up to the bowler to slap him on the back. The batsman’s middle stump lay dejectedly on its side, and he walked away from the wicket looking furious with himself. ‘Would it surprise you if it was different behind closed doors?’ Josephine asked as another man walked out to the middle to join Lettice. She told Archie what Loveday had said about the arguments between the twins. ‘I wondered what would make Morwenna lock herself in her room,’ she said, ‘and the only thing I could think of was that she was afraid of him. If that’s true, you’ve got another candidate for wanting him dead.’
‘You think Morwenna had something to do with Harry’s accident? That’s ridiculous.’
‘Is it?’ she asked, slightly irritated by the dismissal. ‘Loveday says Morwenna lied about being at home when he went into the water, and sending you off on a suicide trail is a marvellous smokescreen.’
‘You didn’t see her,’ Archie insisted. ‘She’s devastated. The idea that Harry committed suicide is tearing her apart. You’re way off there.’
