The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher Page A

dreaded, subtle way. But the moment she caught sight of her, anxiety faded. It was all right. Penelope looked vital as ever and marvellously distinguished. Tall and straight-backed, with, her thick greying hair twisted up into a knot at the back of her head and her dark eyes bright with amusement, even the struggles with the trolley did nothing to detract from her dignity. She was, inevitably, slung about with bags and baskets, and was dressed in her old blue cape, an officer's boat cloak that she had bought secondhand from an impoverished Naval widow at the end of the war and worn ever since, on all occasions from weddings to funerals.
     
    And Antonia . . . Olivia saw a tall and slender child, looking older than her thirteen years. She had long, straight, straw-berry-blond hair, and wore jeans, a T-shirt and a red cotton jacket.
     
    There was no time for more. Cosmo raised his arms and called his daughter's name, and they were seen. Antonia aban-doned Penelope and the trolley and came running towards them, hair flying, a pair of rubber swimming flippers in one hand and a canvas satchel in the other, dodging through the throng of baggage-laden humanity to throw herself into Cosmo's arms. He caught her up and swung her round, long spindly legs flying, kissed her soundly, and set her down on her feet again.
     
    "You've grown," he told her accusingly.
     
    "I know, a whole inch."
     
    She turned to Olivia. She had freckles across her nose and a full, sweet mouth, too big for her heart-shaped face, and her eyes were greeny-grey and fringed with long, thick, very fair eyelashes. Their expression was open and smiling, full of interest.
     
    "Hello. I'm Olivia."
     
    Antonia disentangled herself from her father's arms, tucked the rubber flippers under her arm, and held out a hand. "How do you do?"
     
    And Olivia, looking down at the young, bright face, knew that Cosmo had been right, and all her fears unfounded. Charmed and disarmed by Antonia's mannerly grace, she shook the outstretched hand. "I'm glad you're here," she told her, and then, with that safely over, abandoned father and daughter and went to claim her own relation, still patiently guarding the luggage. Penelope, with soundless delight, flung wide her arms in one of her typical expansive gestures, and Olivia happily cast herself into them, to hug enormously, to press her face against her mother's cool firm cheek, to smell the long-familiar scent of patchouli.
     
    "Oh, my darling pet," said Penelope, "I can't believe I'm really here."
    Joined by Cosmo and Antonia, they all started talking at once.
     
    "Cosmo, this is my mother, Penelope Keeling . . ."
     
    "You met up all right at Heathrow?"
     
    "No trouble at all; I carried a newspaper and wore a rose between my teeth."
     
    "Daddy, we had a hilarious flight. Someone was sick . . ."
     
    "Is this all your luggage?"
     
    "How long did you have to wait at Valencia?"
     
    ". . . and the air hostess spilt a whole glass of orange juice over a nun."
     
    Finally, Cosmo got matters under control, took charge of the trolley, and led the way out of the terminal, into the warm, dusky blue starlit darkness, filled with the smell of petrol and the sound of cicadas. Somehow, they all crammed into the Citroen, Penelope in the front and Antonia and Olivia jammed together in the back. The luggage was piled on top of the passengers and at last they were off.
     
    "How's Maria and Tomeu?" Antonia wanted to know. "And the bantams? And Daddy, do you know something, I got top marks in French. Oh, look, there's a new disco. And a roller-skating rink. Oh, we must go roller-skating, Daddy, can we? And I really want to learn to wind-surf these holidays ... is it frightfully expensive to have lessons?"
     
    The now familiar road climbed up and away from the town and into the countryside, where the hills were pricked with the lights of random farmhouses, and the air was heavy with the scent of pine. When they turned into the track that led