hither to yon, but picturing the lie of the land is another matter.”
“When you see it, you’ll agree that— What was the bloke’s name?”
“Kalith Chudasama, the inspector said.”
“Chudasama almost certainly started his swim from somewhere in the cove. If he’d been swept round Lye Rock from the east or the Saddle Rocks and Darvis Point from the north, he wouldn’t have had a chance in a thousand of surviving.”
“Did you see many caves there?”
“Plenty. A lot of them, you’d have to have an inflatable dinghy to reach them. Only when high tide covers the rocks, at that. Some you could get to in a wooden rowboat, if you knew what you were doing, where the submerged rocks are and where the currents are dangerous.”
“Only local fishermen would know.”
“And not many of them. As I said, they don’t like going there.”
“That must be why no one saw the young man or his family. They must have waved and shouted for help from the mouth of the cave, surely.”
“The mouths of some of the caves are underwater, though they’re dry farther back. I went into a couple to see if there were any interesting rock formations, but nothing worth photographing.”
Eleanor shuddered. “Horrible!”
“At least Scumble seems to be taking it seriously. The police will get the lifeboat out tomorrow. They have inflatables. They’ll soon find … Hell!”
They had reached the highest point on the road over Bodmin Moor. Below and ahead of them, bright moonlight shone on a flat white sea of fog, stretching towards the coast as far as Eleanor could see.
“Oh, Nick, the lifeboat won’t go out in that!”
“It could be clear at sea level. Down there it may be just low cloud, or not half as solid as it looks from above.”
“I do hope so. Or it might clear by tomorrow,” she said doubtfully.
Nick zipped downhill, slowing as they reached the fringes of the fog. At first it was wispy. As they penetrated, it became denser, until they had to crawl along. The full beam of the headlights reflected back blindingly, so Nick dipped them. Eleanor stuck her head out of the window from time to time to warn him if the car was about to go off the road. Not that she could see much.
“What I’d really like,” said Nick, leaning forward over the steering wheel, peering into nothingness, “is someone else’s taillights to follow.”
They nearly missed the turn off the main road, but once in the lanes, driving was easier, if no faster, because of the vague, looming presence of hedge-banks closing in on each side. They met no other vehicles, no stray cows or sheep, not even a rabbit or a pheasant.
Though the drive seemed to go on forever, at last the crowding hedges ended as they reached what Eleanor thought of as the bungalow zone, where meadows were rapidly disappearing beneath the onslaught of summer visitors and retired people. The lights of the small self-service grocery appeared, fuzzily haloed. The fog was no less dense down here. It smelled of the sea.
Just where the slope steepened, entering the old village, Nick pulled over to the side of the road. “Whew, made it.”
“What … Oh, the Vicarage. Joce’s car. I forgot. I wonder whether they’re still up?”
“It looks as if they’ve left the lamp on over the front door.”
“We’d better pop in. Poor Teazle will be in despair, but another few minutes won’t make any difference.”
“Hold on a mo. I’ll go and see whether there’s a light in any of the windows. If not, I’ll just lock up the car and put the keys through the letterbox.”
Eleanor heard him tapping on glass. A moment later, a curtain was drawn back and she saw his silhouette against the light within. She rolled up the window, and as she got out of the car, she heard Jocelyn’s voice.
“Nicholas! I’m so glad you’ve made it back safely. Where is— Oh, there you are, Eleanor. Come in, do. What a foul night.” She swung the casement to and closed the curtain. A moment
“When you see it, you’ll agree that— What was the bloke’s name?”
“Kalith Chudasama, the inspector said.”
“Chudasama almost certainly started his swim from somewhere in the cove. If he’d been swept round Lye Rock from the east or the Saddle Rocks and Darvis Point from the north, he wouldn’t have had a chance in a thousand of surviving.”
“Did you see many caves there?”
“Plenty. A lot of them, you’d have to have an inflatable dinghy to reach them. Only when high tide covers the rocks, at that. Some you could get to in a wooden rowboat, if you knew what you were doing, where the submerged rocks are and where the currents are dangerous.”
“Only local fishermen would know.”
“And not many of them. As I said, they don’t like going there.”
“That must be why no one saw the young man or his family. They must have waved and shouted for help from the mouth of the cave, surely.”
“The mouths of some of the caves are underwater, though they’re dry farther back. I went into a couple to see if there were any interesting rock formations, but nothing worth photographing.”
Eleanor shuddered. “Horrible!”
“At least Scumble seems to be taking it seriously. The police will get the lifeboat out tomorrow. They have inflatables. They’ll soon find … Hell!”
They had reached the highest point on the road over Bodmin Moor. Below and ahead of them, bright moonlight shone on a flat white sea of fog, stretching towards the coast as far as Eleanor could see.
“Oh, Nick, the lifeboat won’t go out in that!”
“It could be clear at sea level. Down there it may be just low cloud, or not half as solid as it looks from above.”
“I do hope so. Or it might clear by tomorrow,” she said doubtfully.
Nick zipped downhill, slowing as they reached the fringes of the fog. At first it was wispy. As they penetrated, it became denser, until they had to crawl along. The full beam of the headlights reflected back blindingly, so Nick dipped them. Eleanor stuck her head out of the window from time to time to warn him if the car was about to go off the road. Not that she could see much.
“What I’d really like,” said Nick, leaning forward over the steering wheel, peering into nothingness, “is someone else’s taillights to follow.”
They nearly missed the turn off the main road, but once in the lanes, driving was easier, if no faster, because of the vague, looming presence of hedge-banks closing in on each side. They met no other vehicles, no stray cows or sheep, not even a rabbit or a pheasant.
Though the drive seemed to go on forever, at last the crowding hedges ended as they reached what Eleanor thought of as the bungalow zone, where meadows were rapidly disappearing beneath the onslaught of summer visitors and retired people. The lights of the small self-service grocery appeared, fuzzily haloed. The fog was no less dense down here. It smelled of the sea.
Just where the slope steepened, entering the old village, Nick pulled over to the side of the road. “Whew, made it.”
“What … Oh, the Vicarage. Joce’s car. I forgot. I wonder whether they’re still up?”
“It looks as if they’ve left the lamp on over the front door.”
“We’d better pop in. Poor Teazle will be in despair, but another few minutes won’t make any difference.”
“Hold on a mo. I’ll go and see whether there’s a light in any of the windows. If not, I’ll just lock up the car and put the keys through the letterbox.”
Eleanor heard him tapping on glass. A moment later, a curtain was drawn back and she saw his silhouette against the light within. She rolled up the window, and as she got out of the car, she heard Jocelyn’s voice.
“Nicholas! I’m so glad you’ve made it back safely. Where is— Oh, there you are, Eleanor. Come in, do. What a foul night.” She swung the casement to and closed the curtain. A moment
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