Bones Under The Beach Hut Read Free Page A

Nell.'
        'Yes,
Deborah, all right.' A harassed-looking, chubby young woman in a one-piece
swimsuit appeared in Carole's eyeline, hurrying down to the edge of the wavelets
where a blonde-haired toddler in a swimming nappy sat doing no harm to herself
or anyone else. The child was absorbed in patting at the sand with a plastic
spade and seemed uninterested in her mother's appearance by her side. Soon her
brother, the one saddled for life with the name of Tristram, joined them and
the three got into a routine of splashing games. Carole began to feel almost
excited at the prospect of Lily doing the same, in less than a fortnight's
time.
        The
voice of the unseen female from the next beach hut started up again. 'You know,
Gavin, Nell really has let herself go since she had Hermione. She hasn't made
any attempt to get her figure back, has she?'
        'Well,
she's kept pretty busy,' an upper-class male voice protested, 'what with the
two little ones and—'
        'Mothers
have always been busy,' the woman steamrollered on, 'but that doesn't mean that
they should lower their standards. I was busy when I had you and Owen to look
after, but I still made sure that when your father got home from work, you were
both in bed and I was made up and looking my best for him.'
        'Yes,
but the fact is, Mummy, you didn't have a job. Nell works full time and still—'
        'Your
father would have been appalled by the idea of any wife of his having a job. He
would have regarded it as a criticism of his abilities to look after his own
family.'
        'Maybe,
but times have changed, Mummy, and—'
        'At
least your father didn't live to see you married to Nell. He always had very
high hopes for you, Gavin. I wouldn't have liked to see him disappointed.'
        'But,
Mummy—'
        'Oh,
look, Tristram and Hermione are throwing sand at each other now. And Nell's
doing nothing to stop them. In fact, she's positively encouraging them.'
        'They're
just kids and—'
        'I'd
better go and sort this out,' the voice said ponderously, and Carole watched as
its owner came into view and processed down the beach. The woman called Deborah
was probably seventy, but she'd kept her figure well. She wore a predominantly
white bathing costume with a design of red flowers on it, and her tanned skin
had the texture of shrivelled leather. Over well-cut white hair she wore a
broad-brimmed straw hat with a thin red and white scarf tied around it. Carole
recognized the type. There were plenty of them on the South Coast. Well-heeled
widows, pampered, soign é and utterly
poisonous.
        Unwilling
to witness Deborah's latest attack on her daughter-in-law, Carole returned her attention
to her crossword. And as she did so, she had the thought: that is an object
lesson in how not to be a grandmother. Please, please, God, may I never behave
even vaguely like that towards Lily.
    ----
        

Chapter Three
        
        Carole
was filling in the crossword clues almost as fast as she could write them down,
when suddenly her rollerball ran out of ink. She tried pressing harder but the
point only gouged holes into the flimsy paper. Oh no. She knew from experience
that, however well the solving was going, she couldn't do it without seeing the
letters.
        She
riffled hopefully through the contents of her tote bag for something to write
with, but without success. She sat in frustration, drumming her fingers on the
arm of her director's chair. Putting the crossword to one side and completing
it when she got back to High Tor was not an option. When she was on a roll like
this, she just had to finish the thing as soon as possible. She had to find a
pen from somewhere.
        A lot
of people might have asked to borrow one from someone in a nearby beach hut.
But not Carole Seddon. She always tried to avoid asking questions that offered
the possibility of refusal. No, her first thought was to walk up the beach to
find