Part 15 (1/2)

'That b.i.t.c.h,' Turnbull said aggressively. 'All of this is her fault.'

'What's that got to do with the cemetery, though?'

Franks shrugged. 'Come on, Turnbull, let's get you back to your room. You're not making any sense and you need to sober up. You've got a big day tomorrow. You'll never know how hard I've worked on Hitch to get you here at all; if you let me down now, we'll all be for the high jump.'

Wondering what Hitchc.o.c.k had got planned for the next day, Archie askeda 'Where's he staying?'

Franks nodded towards the large set of buildings on the other side of the square. 'Government House.'

'Come on then. I'll give you a hand.'

'It's all right. I'll do it.' Jack Spence had appeared from nowhere, and Archie looked at him in surprise. 'Leave him to David and me. We'll see him safely home.'

'Don't argue, Archie.' Bridget smiled gratefully at Spence. 'Thanks, Jack. I owe you a favour.'

'I'll let you know when I need it.'

Archie and Bridget watched while they half carried, half dragged Leyton Turnbull across the square and up the steps to Government House. 'You recognised David Franks,' Archie said. 'How do you know him?'

'He was at the hotel a couple of weeks ago with Jack. They were having a look at the place for Hitchc.o.c.k ahead of this weekend, but I've seen him here before.' Archie was furious with himself for succ.u.mbing to the same spark of jealousy that he had experienced earlier, when Bridget and Spence returned from the woods together. 'Jack likes the boys, Archie, just in case you were wondering.' He attempted a look that said it made no difference to him either way, but it was less than convincing. 'I know because I threw myself at him when we were at the Slade. It was quite the nicest rejection I've ever had, but there was no room for negotiation.' She pulled him towards her and they kissed. 'Now is there anyone else you'd like to call in on, or can I take you home?'

Archie smiled, and answered by turning towards White Horses. As he held the gate open for her, he glanced back towards the village and noticed that all the lights were on in the top floor of Government House. Bridget followed his gaze and spotted Leyton Turnbull slouched at his window. 'There you are,' she said, squeezing his hand. 'No need for a police presence tonight.'

Spence and Franks saw Turnbull, too, as they walked together to the hotel bar, where they would sit and drink into the early hours, and Danny raised a hand to him as he took Astrid back to his room to make love to her. On the lawn in front of the Watch House, Alma Reville found solace in the fresh night air while her husband slept, and looked up just in time to see the b.u.t.t of the evening's jokes stumble back into his room. Only one of them felt more than pity, because only one of them knew that Leyton Turnbull would die the following day. And across the water, as the final hours of her husband's life drifted past in a haze of self-recrimination, Gwyneth Draycott nursed her fear and watched the lights go out one by one in Portmeirion.

PART FIVE.

Suspicion.

26 July 1936, Portmeirion.

1.

When Bridget opened her eyes, it was just beginning to get light. She lay still, enjoying the warmth of Archie's body curled around her own while the world came to life outside, and then, as the sun rose above the hills, casting tentative fingers over a new day, she slipped quietly from the sheets, hoping he wouldn't stir.

His s.h.i.+rt was the first piece of clothing that came to hand; she put it on, knowing that too much movement would bring on a volley of hopeful barking from the sitting room next door and destroy any chance of peace. The sketchbook was on the floor next to the bed and she picked it up, pleased by the way the light flooded in through the window onto his face. Asleep, Archie was entirely at her mercy, with no self-consciousness or shy protestations, no elaborate poses or distracting conversation. She drew freely and quickly, searching out the contours of his body with each line, resisting the temptation to embellish with memory and accepting only what she saw in front of her a the hand resting on the pillow, the graceful curve of the neck and shoulders, the sheet draped across narrow hips. His body was beautiful, more so now that it had lost the artificial perfection of youth, but it was the strength in his face that moved Bridget and filled her with an unexpected longing; for all the fuss she had made about remaining independent, beholden only to her work, it was a strength she would have welcomed during the past twenty years, more often than she cared to acknowledge.

There were things she should have told him about her life, things he had a right to know. Last night, she had convinced herself that there was no need; it was a chance encounter, miraculous in its way but fleeting, and if they were unlikely to meet again, she wanted to part sure of his good opinion. But that was last night. This morning, she was reluctant to let go of the joy they had found in each other but knew that honesty would destroy it. Her past was not something for which Archie would be able to forgive her: he was sensitive and compa.s.sionate, but he had an instinct for right and wrong which ran deeper than his job a and what she had done was wrong. The longer she stayed silent, the harder it would be to explain. She put the charcoal down before she destroyed the drawing by adding too much, and looked up to find that he had been watching her.

'The s.h.i.+rt suits you, but not yet.' He slipped it from her shoulders and looked at her, hoping to find a mirror of his own happiness. Bridget smiled. It wasn't Archie's fault that all she really wanted to do was cry for mistakes which, once made, could never be undone.

2.

Josephine sat down to breakfast on the terrace and marvelled at the beauty of the morning. Portmeirion had been restored to its proper state after the aberration of the night before, and the only lingering sign of the storm was a rich, moist air which gave a freshness to everything. There was just enough breeze to move fragile wisps of cloud across a brilliant blue sky, and the village shone with a new l.u.s.tre, its lines more exuberant, its colours more intense. A flock of oystercatchers rose up from the estuary sands, peeling off erratically into the air like ashes from a bonfire, and, where pools of water had been left behind by the tide, the reflection of the sun was too bright to look at. She smiled, remembering its moonlit counterpart, the rain on Marta's skin, and wondered how much of the day's magic was down to the weather and how much to her own happiness.

'Good G.o.d, you look exhausted,' Ronnie said, joining her at the table. 'Did the storm keep you awake?'

'Something like that.' Josephine beamed at her. 'And thank you for getting my forty-first year off to such a complimentary start.'

'It wasn't meant as a criticism, just an observation.' She glanced knowingly at her sister, and Josephine could feel the rings around her eyes darkening under their combined scrutiny. Lettice was one of the few people who knew something of her feelings for Marta, but her discretion could be taken as read; Ronnie, on the other hand, could usually be relied upon to back the wrong horse. 'Isn't Archie down yet?' she asked, running true to form.

'I haven't seen him,' Josephine said, reaching for her sungla.s.ses.

A waiter brought toast and coffee, and took their orders for breakfast. 'We'll be as quick as we can,' he promised, 'but we're a bit short-staffed this morning.' He nodded conspiratorially to the Watch House on the cliff. 'As if we haven't got enough to worry about.'

'It's fine,' Josephine said. 'We're not in any hurry.'

'Darling, you are in a good mood!'

'So what did you two get up to last night after we'd gone?' Josephine asked, ignoring Ronnie's smirk.

'We had a few drinks with Lydia, as you know, and then a couple of Hitchc.o.c.k's people drifted back in, so we got talking to them. The band was fabulous, wasn't it, Ronnie? There was a bit of a kerfuffle when the singer didn't turn up for her final set, but they managed beautifully without her.' She cast a sly glance at her sister. 'Ronnie was on her feet until the early hours.'

'And on her back after that?' Josephine seized her chance to give as good as she got. 'Which waiter was it this time? No wonder they're short-staffed.'

'It wasn't a waiter.'

Lettice was coy rarely enough to make Josephine genuinely curious. 'Oh?'

Lydia came out onto the terrace and sat down at their table. 'You look lovely,' Lettice said, distracted for a moment from her story. She looked the casual elegance up and down with a professional eye. 'Isn't that a Maggy Rouff?'

'Yes. It's such a beautiful day that I thought I'd make an effort,' she said, and the cynic in Josephine couldn't help wondering if the effort was for Marta or for Hitchc.o.c.k. 'First things first: marks out of ten for Mr Franks?'

'Eight, but I'm holding the other two in reserve.'

Josephine looked at Ronnie in astonishment. 'You spent the night with Hitchc.o.c.k's sidekick?'

'I most certainly did not. David was the perfect gentleman.' She grinned at Lydia. 'We're just trying to establish if the same can be said about Archie. He seems to have kept the birthday girl up very late.'

'Really? I thought I saw him out walking with his Irish eyes, but I must have made a mistake.' She smiled at Josephine. 'It was difficult to tell who was who in that rain last night, with umbrellas and blankets everywhere.'

The waiter made a timely arrival with three full Welsh breakfasts and looked enquiringly at Lydia. 'Same for you, madam?'

'Yes please, and will you bring a smoked haddock as well? And plenty of coffee. Marta's joining us in a minute,' she explained, b.u.t.tering some toast. 'She's just getting dressed. No sign of the Hitchc.o.c.ks yet?'

'Perhaps they've packed up and gone,' Josephine suggested hopefully.

'I doubt it. Round two is supposed to be taking place on the terrace. Jack Spence said they'd all been summoned after breakfast. We should have a ringside seat.'