“My mother did everything possible to make her comfortable. She was so good to her. She looked after her and helped her in every way.”

“And Mr. Tregarland?”

“You mean the old man…?”

“He’s not really so very old, is he?”

“He must be in his sixties. He married late, in his forties, I think. He has only become infirm during the last few years. His gout cripples him. One never really knows what he is thinking. I once knew a boy who liked putting spiders into a bowl from which they could not escape. He used to watch them for hours seeing what, captured as they were, they would do to each other. He reminds me of that boy, because it is as though he is watching us all in the same way.”

“I understand what you mean,” I said. “That is exactly how it seems to me. One gets the feeling he is watching everyone…in a rather mischievous way.”

“He has always been very good to my mother and me. It is many years ago that we came to Tregarland’s. I remember the time before that only vaguely. And suddenly we were at Tregarland’s…and we have been there ever since.”

“It is a wonderful old place.”

“It is.”

“And you are very interested in the estate.”

“Yes, but…” He did not continue, but stared out to sea. Then he said: “I think the tide is turning now.”

“They will be wondering where I am.”

“I’m afraid they will. Was your sister expecting you back?”

“I am usually with her when she has had her rest.”

“I hope she doesn’t get too anxious. Yes. I am sure it is on the turn.”

“How long do you think before we can attempt the journey down?”

“I am not quite sure. Some little time yet. I want to make certain that it is safe before we do so. It isn’t very comfortable sitting here, I’m afraid.”

“I am sure being submerged in the cove would have been far more uncomfortable. If you had not come along…”

“Shush,” he said.

“I was just going to say what a happy coincidence for me.”

We were silent for a while, then I said: “Tell me about your coming to Tregarland’s all those years ago.”

He paused and I had the impression that he was thinking he had said too much already. He was, I guessed, by nature reticent.

However, he went on: “It’s all rather vague to me. We were in a little house near dockland. When we arrived at Tregarland’s it was as though some genii had transplanted us to a castle. My mother told me that Mr. Tregarland was a distant connection. I’ve never found out what that connection was. I think it must be very remote. Anyway, Mr. Tregarland’s wife had died. There was a son, slightly younger than I, and she was going to keep house there. She was not to be treated quite like a housekeeper and she could take me with her to be brought up there. It seemed like an excellent arrangement for us at least, and I am sure for Mr. Tregarland. My mother is one of the most capable people I have ever known. Life became luxurious suddenly.”

“And has been ever since?”

“Well, people soon get used to comfort, particularly children.”

“And you have made the estate your mission in life.”

“I have worked hard at it.”

“And Dermot?”

“He is inclined to take everything for granted. The place will be his in due course.”

“But you will always be there.”

He did not answer for a moment. Then he said, as though talking to himself: “A place of one’s own could make one very contented. To stand in the fields and say, ‘This is mine.’ Do you see what I mean?”

“I do.”

“I am very interested in Tregarland’s. Proud of it, you might say, but…”

“My father, who knows a great deal about these things, says you manage it excellently.”

He looked pleased.

“He has his own estate.”

“Yes, it has been handed down from generation to generation, as I suppose Tregarland’s has. I have a brother, Robert, who is being trained to take over one day.”

“And Tregarland’s will go to Dermot and his sons.”

“But Dermot does not feel about it as you do.”

“No, but it will be his.” There was the faintest trace of bitterness in his voice.

“But you will always be there. How could they manage without you?”

“Oh, Dermot could find a manager.”

“And you?”

“I cannot say.”

“What you really want is a place of your own.”

“Yes, that is what I want.”

“Do you think…?”

“I shall ever have it? To use a well-worn phrase, that is in the lap of the gods.”

“You told me a little time ago that when something is important to you…like climbing the cliff…you are determined to do it. That must apply to wanting your own place. So you must not think of failure.”

He turned to me and I saw that smile again.

“I tell you this,” he said, and his jaw was firm. “I am going to do everything I can to get it.”

“I shall wish you luck—although at the same time I can see it would be a bitter blow for Tregarland’s.”

After that we fell silent and neither of us seemed eager to break it.

I watched the waves. I could see the cove from where I sat. The sea was gradually receding. It would soon be time to do the difficult descent.

The way down was hazardous. It took time and great care. Gordon Lewyth went ahead of me. Sometimes he held my hand, at others he made me cling to his coat.

I was full of thankfulness for his fortuitous appearance and admiration for the manner in which, through his childhood memories of the rocks, he had brought us to safety.

Eventually we stood side by side in the cove. It was wet and soggy and the sea was very close. A great joy swept over me. It was so good to be alive.

We looked at each other and, in those seconds, I thought he was going to kiss me, for he swayed toward me and then moved back.

I said tremulously: “I know I’m supposed not to, but I am going to say thank you. I have rarely felt so grateful to anyone in the whole of my life.”

He looked embarrassed.

“Come on,” he said. “We shall be very late. We’ll have to pick our way carefully across the sand. It will be slippery as the tide has just gone out. Mind the rocks.”

“I will,” I said, and we walked side by side along the beach.

There was a great deal of fuss when we reached the house. I had been expected back three hours earlier. They were all in the hall—Dorabella, Dermot, Matilda, and the old man. I could not fail to see the excitement in the latter’s eyes.

Dorabella came to me and hugged me while she scolded.

“Where have you been? We’ve been frantic.”

I explained while Gordon said nothing.

“He was absolutely wonderful,” I finished. “I could never have climbed the cliff alone.”

I saw Matilda’s lips twitch as she regarded her son with pride.

“I am so glad…so glad,” she said.

“Whatever made you walk along the beach?” demanded Dorabella. She had been really scared and wanted to go on blaming me.

“It was silly, but I didn’t think…”

“Well, you are back now,” said Matilda. “Both of you must be exhausted…and chilled.”

“I’m hot now actually,” I said.

“Nevertheless, I think you need a good strong drink. Brandy, don’t you think, Gordon?”

Gordon thought it would be a good idea.

I was briefly reminded of that other occasion when I had taken brandy with Jowan Jermyn in Smithy’s.

They all sat round while we drank, and I described exactly what had happened. Gordon had lapsed into his habitual reticent manner while I did the talking. Dorabella sat close to me, and every now and then she would touch my arm as though to reassure herself that I was still there. I found that very endearing.

I repeated how wonderful Gordon had been, how he had so cleverly hauled me up to him, how we had sat on the ledge in the cliffs which he remembered from his childhood days, waiting for the tide to recede before we scrambled down.

“I could never have done it alone,” I said. “I did not know which way to turn.”