“I am so sorry,” he said earnestly.

I found it hard to speak and he went on: “I had to call. Perhaps I should not have done so. But there is no other way of getting in touch with you.”

“Thank you for coming,” I said.

“I should so like to talk to you,” he went on. “I heard you were staying here for a while, although your parents have left.”

“That’s so,” I said. “There is the baby…”

“Could you come and have lunch somewhere?”

“Do you mean today?”

“If that is possible. I have a car outside.”

I hesitated. My spirits lightened a little at the prospect. I could leave a message for Matilda that I should not be in to lunch today.

As we drove through the country lanes, he said: “I know a quiet place close to the moor. We can talk in comfort there.”

“I suppose you know everything that has happened,” I said.

“I don’t know about everything, but there is no talk hereabouts of anything but this tragedy.”

“It seems incredible to me still.”

I was staring blankly ahead, seeing her face, laughing at me, scorning me because of some priggish sentiment I had just expressed. I would have given anything to hear her laugh like that again.

He took his hand from the steering wheel and placed it over mine for a moment.

“So,” he said, “you have stayed on though your parents have gone.”

“Yes. I am helping with the baby.”

“Yes, with the nanny whose name is Crabtree.”

“She was nanny to my sister and to me. Mother procured her for Tristan.”

“Her name is often mentioned.”

“You mean by the gossips.”

“Oh, yes, she’s something of a dragon by all accounts. At least she hasn’t much time for the people around here.”

“I think she despises most people who weren’t born within the sound of Bow Bells.”

“Ah, I see.”

We were silent for a moment. I sensed that he wished to talk about the tragedy but was not sure what effect it would have on me.

We were seated opposite each other in the small hotel on the edge of the moor, when he regarded me gravely and said: “Do you mind talking about it?”

“It is uppermost in my mind,” I confessed.

“Do you think it was all a little strange…?”

“Yes, I do,” I replied.

“Do you believe in coincidences?”

“I suppose there are such things.”

“Yes, I suppose so, but…”

“You mean the way she died?”

“Yes. Two in the same way. Doesn’t that sound a little odd to you?”

“Yes.”

“You know what they are saying here?”

“I can guess.”

“That it is the revenge of the Jermyns on the Tregarlands, of course.”

“Oh, they can’t really believe that.”

“They can. They seize on this as a proof that the feud is as firm as ever; and the attempt to break it has not pleased my unfortunate ancestor.”

“I suppose it could have come about naturally. Dorabella was not a strong swimmer. Dermot’s first wife was, according to her mother. I cannot understand why Dorabella should have suddenly decided she wanted to take an early morning swim. If only I had been here…I should never have left. She did not want me to. In fact, she pleaded with me to stay. I said I would come back soon and she would be able to come home to us when the baby was older…and this happened when I was not there…”

“Do you think if you had been here you would have been able to prevent it?”

“I just have a feeling that it might not have happened then.”

He was silent for a while.

“It is odd,” he said. “Two of them to die that way. People here naturally put their own construction on it. Of course, it could have happened quite naturally. My ancestor did not want to live and she walked into the sea, never intending to come back; Annette…she could have had a sudden attack of cramp…and your sister, well, that could have happened to her, too. It is just an extraordinary coincidence that a man should have two wives who die by drowning at the same spot.”

“What are people suggesting?”

“I don’t quite know. But…I am a little uneasy. I think…you should be watchful.”

“What do you mean? That you…suspect something?”

“I don’t know what I feel. I just don’t like the thought of your being there…in a place where two such events could take place.”

I looked at him in surprise. He had always struck me as being a practical man who would scoff at fancy.

“What on earth do you think could happen to me?”

“I don’t know. I merely think that you are there where extraordinary things happen. That’s why…I want you to be watchful.”

“What am I to watch for?”

“I don’t know. That’s just it. I have this vague uneasiness, though. If it were anyone else…it wouldn’t occur to me.

I looked at him questioningly and he returned my gaze steadily.

“I care what happens to you,” he said. “Perhaps that is why I am particularly sensitive.”

“That is very kind of you,” I replied.

He shook his head. “It is something over which I have no control. All this seems too contrived to be natural, and I am uneasy because you are in the midst of it.”

“Would you feel better if I went home?”

He smiled at me ruefully. “I was not at all pleased when you stayed away so long. In fact, I was definitely displeased. I had rather you came back for reasons other than this one.”

“How I agree with you on that!”

“Get in touch with me…at any time if you need anything. Telephone me. Do you have the number?”

I said I did not and he gave it to me and I put it into my handbag. I felt an uplifting of my spirits such as I had not known since I heard of Dorabella’s death. I was so gratified that he was concerned for me.

I told him then that I had promised my sister that I would look after Tristan if she were unable to be there.

“It was very strange,” I said, “almost as though she knew she was going to die. She made me swear because she did not want anyone else to look after him. So I am here because they would not allow us to take Tristan back with us.”

“That is something I should be grateful for. If they had allowed you to take him, you would probably never have come here again.”

“That might well have been. At least, the visits would be rare.”

He stretched across the table and took my hand.

“I should have had to come to see you,” he said. “You know I would do that, don’t you?”

“Well, no. It hadn’t occurred to me that you would.”

“Well, it does now, I hope.”

“Since you tell me.”

“Listen,” he went on. “I have been thinking a great deal about this. If at any time you need someone to confide in…to help…”

I tapped my handbag and said: “I have your number. I can get in touch with you at any time…and I will.”

I met Seth in the stables. When he saw me his face changed and he looked almost furtive.

“I did tell ’ee, Miss, ’twere so.”

I knew what he meant. He had warned me of the ghost of the sea and I had shown my disbelief. He was now telling me how wrong I was to be skeptical.

“Poor lady, her be gone…her be gone like t’other. Reckon her was beckoned in, this one…not like t’other.”

His words were thick and slurred and it was not easy to understand what he was saying. I often wondered whether he knew himself; but I supposed there was some reasoning in that muddled head of his.

He leaned his big ungainly body against the walls of the stables.

“ ’Ee be wanting Starlight, Miss?” he asked.

I had changed my mind suddenly.

“No, thanks,” I said. “I think I’ll take a walk.”

He nodded and mumbled: “I did tell ’ee, didn’t I, Miss? Didn’t believe me, did ’ee? Poor lady…who’d a thought. She was a laughing lady, she were…just like t’other. They wouldn’t listen. They laughed…but it got ’un in the end.”

“Did you see my sister go down to bathe?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not that ’un,” he said.

“Then did you see the first Mrs. Tregarland go down to bathe, Seth?”

A cunning look came into his eyes. “No, no. I didn’t see nothing. Ask her…I didn’t see.”

“Ask whom, Seth?”

He turned away, shaking his head, and I saw a certain fear in his eyes.

“I didn’t see nothing,” he went on. “I didn’t. Her just went into the sea like. Nothing to do with I.”

Poor Seth. He really did not know what he was talking about. He was obsessed by the legend. His eyes were worried, his loose mouth slightly, open. He was puzzled, as though trying to understand something, and my question had clearly disturbed him.

He disappeared into one of the stalls and I heard him talking to one of the horses there.

“All right, my beauty. ’Tis old Seth. Don’t ’ee worry…only old Seth.”

I came out of the stables. I had an hour or so before I need go back. Nanny Crabtree was busy in the nursery and liked to be free at this time. If, as she said, she could get the lord and master off to sleep, she would have the time to do what had to be done.

I came out into the fresh air. It was invigorating with a light breeze blowing in from the sea with its salty tang and smell of seaweed.

I took the cliff road to Poldown and no sooner had I reached the little town than I wished I had gone another way.

There were too many people about and, because of my involvement with the Tregarland tragedy, I was an object of interest.

I passed the wool shop. Miss Polgenny was standing at the door.

“Good day to ’ee, Miss Denver. How be you then? ’Tis a nice day.”

Her little eyes were alert with curiosity. I could see the thoughts in her mind. I was the sister of “her that went for a swim and was drowned.” “ ’Twas all part of the curse.”