Caught Out in Cornwall Read Free Page B

him then he would be totally happy. On the other hand, he was fully aware that the relationship would be tempestuous. They had that effect on one another. Now that Arthur was living in the area he might be able to put some pressure on his daughter. Arthur, he knew, would love to see them married.
    A child is missing, I should not be thinking of Rose, he told himself, except her name had come up on the computer as a witness to the incident, apparently the only witness. Trust her, he thought; trust her to bloody well be involved. This time, however, he could hardly accuse her of meddling, she just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Or the wrong place. Pure chance had taken her to the beach at Marazion.
    He looked over the information they had so far, which didn’t amount to much; the names and addresses of Sally Jones’ family, a full description and a photograph of Beth, and Rose’s account of what she thought had happened. The photograph had been copied and distributed to all local officers and the press. It had also been transferred to the computer where it was accessible to every officer nationwide. Apart from Rose’s quite detailed description of the man; a description which Jack knew would be moreaccurate than most, there was nothing else to go on. Presumably he had a car but no one in the car park would have looked twice at a man carrying a child and by then any potential witness would probably have been hurrying for shelter.
    Apart from the usual rash of nutters claiming to have the child or to know where she was, no definite sightings had been reported. The man could be anywhere by now. But the nutters’ stories had to be checked, they could not afford to ignore them.
    A local search was continuing. Jack’s worst fear was that Beth had been murdered, never to be found, her body hidden in some deserted spot. And there were plenty of those in West Cornwall.
    Satisfied that everything possible was being done he left the building and got into his car. He wanted to talk to Rose. The sky had clouded over and it was colder now, more typical of November. Hopefully she would be at home. But Beth, what chance did she have out there in such weather? The best Jack could hope for was that wherever she was she was warm and well fed.
    Rose’s car was not in the drive. Jack cursed, scribbled a note and shoved it under the back door.
     
    The sky was a brilliant palette. Streaks of pink and orange were spread over the whole of the bay heralding the sunrise. Rose watched the colours glow then begin to fade as daylight arrived.
    After coffee and toast and one of her rationed cigarettes she showered and dressed and dried her hair. It was auburn and wavy, not yet fading, and shoulder length in the style she had worn since her schooldays. As it suited her there was no point in changing it. She was petite with none of the stretch marks of childbearing, although she would have accepted them readily if she had ever become pregnant. At least she had been able to devote herself to David in the years that they had had together.
    Up in the loft, which was reached by a flight of wooden stairs hidden behind a pine door, was Rose’s office; a tiny darkroom and her sometimes workplace. The light was good, the Velux windows faced north.
    There were a couple of invoices to send out for photographic work she had completed, although she took on fewer commissions these days, as she preferred to paint. Now that she had finally got to grips with the computer she had bought earlier in the year, this took very little time. That done, she studied a couple of paintings that were readyfor framing before they went on show in Geoff Carter’s gallery. They had been an experiment, they were worked in gouache; a way of painting in opaque colours which were ground in water and thickened with gum and honey. Conversely, the paint could be thinned down. She was pleased with the results but still preferred the medium of oils.
    After her marriage