HIGH TIDE AT MIDNIGHT Read Free

with the almost mystical, fey element which
    characterised it than any others. When she was small, Morwenna had gazed
    at the big, dark house on the cliff top with its twin turrets and tall, twisted
    chimneys and set her young imaginings of Camelot, of Tristan and Iseult
    among those sombre stones. Laura had laughed indulgently at such fancies,
    although at the same time she had pointed out that Trevermon owed more to
    the tin-miners than it did to any fabled knights and ladies.
    Morwenna knew that the rugged coast nearby was littered with the remains
    of the mine-workings, and the ruined buildings and chimneys stood now
    only as the landmarks of a vanished prosperity. Trevennon, her mother had
    said, had been founded on that prosperity, but Laura had never given any
    hint as to what it owed its present subsistence.
    In fact, when she looked, back, Morwenna realised that her mother had said
    very little about her life in Cornwall. But she had been happy there, or that
    was the impression Morwenna had always received. Besides, her own name
    was a Cornish one, and her mother would hardly have chosen it if it had
    revived any unhappy memories, although at the same time she was aware
    that her father had not approved the Choice. 'Pure romanticism', he had
    called it, but with an edge to his voice rather than the indulgent note with
    which he usually greeted his wife's whims. And he had used the same
    phrase, Morwenna remembered, when he had looked at the Trevennon
    group—the house on the cliff-top, the deserted Wheal Vaisey mine, the tiny
    harbour village of Port Vennor, and the cramped beach of Spanish Cove
    with the dark rocks standing up like granite sentinels against the swell of the
    tide.
    'Why do you say that?' As if it were yesterday, Morwenna recalled the lift of
    her mother's chin. 'I wasn't just painting a place. I was painting my youth,
    and all I knew then was peace, security and love.' She had risen from the sofa
    and walked over to her husband, sliding her arm through his and resting her
    cheek against his sleeve. 'I don't doubt that you're right, but leave me my
    illusions.'
    'Peace, security and love.' As the words came back to her, Morwenna felt
    herself shiver. They were like an epitaph for her own hopes, she thought
    unhappily. Then she stiffened. A purposeful step was coming along the
    passage outside, and she turned to face the door as it opened. Lady Kerslake
    came in.
    'Oh, there you are, Morwenna. I've been looking all over the house for you,'
    she said rather pettishly. 'I was wondering whether you intended being in for
    lunch.' She hesitated, then went on, 'You see, Guy has just phoned to say that
    he's coming down and bringing a friend with him and we thought…' She let
    the words drift into silence and gave Morwenna a significant look.
    Morwenna bit her lip. So Guy was bringing his latest fancy down to lunch,
    and his mother was checking to see that their inconvenient house-guest
    would accept the situation without showing that she cared, or making any
    kind of scene. Her temper rose slowly.
    'How nice,' she said with assumed indifference. 'But if my presence is going
    to cause any embarrassment I can easily pick up a snack at the Red Lion.'
    'Oh, my dear!' Lady Kerslake's lips parted in a smile of total insincerity. 'As
    if we would expect you to do any such thing! What a silly girl you are,
    sometimes. Not, of course, that we would wish to interfere if you had made
    any plans. After all, you're a grown woman now, and you have a life of your
    own to lead. It's perfectly natural that you should want to be independent,
    and we don't want to interfere, or feel that we're holding you back in any
    way.' She paused again, invitingly, as if waiting for Morwenna to confide in
    her. Her tone had been all interest and motherly concern, but Morwenna
    knew she would not have been deceived for an instant, even if she had not
    overheard that brief conversation in the drawing room. Cousin Patricia's
    whole tone