Death in the West Wind Read Online Free Page B

on slowly, watching the landscape change, seeing it grow more beautiful by the minute as they went downwards into a tranquil valley. Great cliffs cradled the curving bay in their arms, while whitish sands on which several fishing boats had been drawn up, led down to the sea itself. Emilia drew to a halt, turning to her left, gazing in wonderment at the rugged cliff “It’s red!” she said.
    “Like the soil of Devon. Haven’t you noticed? In places the earth is the same shade as terracotta.”
    “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
    “But look how green the grass is above.”
    “And how peacefully that river flows into the sea.”
    They stared at where the Sid, meandering gently past a large rock, met the ocean in a flurry of foaming waves, bounding on top of which were a colony of gulls, their powerful wings as white as the spume beneath.
    Together the couple turned in the other direction and exclaimed. For beyond the mighty cliffs which enclosed the cove on the other side, a promonotory of land, capped by fine green meadows, stuck out as a final defence against the world.
    Irish Tom who had been plodding the coach along behind them, let out a shout. “B’Jesus, I haven’t seen anything like this since I left Connemara.”
    John looked up at him. “There’s a tiny little village down there, Tom. Let’s go and find a place to stay.”
    “I hope there is somewhere,” said Emilia anxiously.
    “There’s always an inn,” the Apothecary answered confidently. And taking her by the hand again, led her down to where some small cottages and a church nestled beyond the beach.
    It was a spot made in heaven, there was no doubting that. With the weather seeming to get warmer with every step they took, John and Emilia made their way up the path towards the church, round which were grouped several buildings. And there, sure enough, was a tavern, The Ship. “Just as I thought,” said the Apothecary.
    “I’m sure there is no accommodation.”
    “There is only one way to find out. We will go in and ask.”
    It was not the most desirable of hostelries at which he had ever stayed but John and his bride were shown into a clean, serviceable room with basic furniture and a large bed. He turned to Emilia.
    “Will it do?”
    “I think it will be most romantic. Listen, , you can hear the sea.”
    The Apothecary turned to the landlord. “Is this fine weather going to last?”
    “They reckon it’s here for a week or so.”
    “Then I think I’ll go bathing.”
    “Very healthy, Sir. Folks are starting to stay here just to dip in the ocean. But wait till tomorrow. Give the water a chance to warm up.”
    “Very sound advice,” said Emilia, who clearly did not relish the idea of swimming in chilly conditions.
    “I’ll heed it,” answered John, but for all that removed his flannel bathing drawers from his bag and hung them over the back of a chair.
    Emilia made rude remarks about their voluminous size, then went downstairs with her husband to settle Tom in a cottage across the way and the horses in a nearby stable.
    They did little after that, strolling up the cliff path, sitting on a canvas sheet and watching the great ships heading for Topsham and Exeter through John’s telescope. They saw the tide come in, so far that the sand vanished and only a strip of shingle remained visible. Then, as the sun began to dip in the sky, the fishing fleet returned to shore, heavy with their catch which gleamed silver in the brightness.
    “A perfect day,” said Emilia, getting to her feet.
    John put out a hand for her to help him and was just about to answer that there was no sign of the trouble which she claimed stalked him, when something stopped him doing so. A frisson at his spine, a sensation that he had experienced before in his life, suddenly alerted him to the possibility that somewhere, somehow, all was not well. A vision of Juliana van Guylder’s pale, furtive face came vividly into the Apothecary’s mind and for