“Oh, you tricked him, but it means nothing to him, you’ll see that soon enough. I wouldn’t marry him if he begged me. He’s not capable of being faithful and neither am I, which is why we will always come back to each other. I know him as you cannot possibly, you’re no match for Guy, Petra, and he’ll realize it soon enough. And when he does he’ll—”

“Have a chip,” Petra interrupted, thrusting the newspaper parcel toward Clothilde. “They’re very good and might sweeten your temper.”

“You’re a fool and a . . .”

The abrupt movement of the newspaper into the open brought a flurry of wings and a loud shrieking which broke into whatever she’d been about to say. The two huge white birds screaming like banshees hurled themselves down between the two women. For a moment Petra could see nothing but feathers and beady eyes as she flailed her hands against the terrifying melee of dagger-sharp claws and open beaks in her face. One minute she was holding out the remnants of her fish and chip parcel to Clothilde and the next it was snatched from her hand.

Clothilde gave an unearthly scream, flapping her arms wildly, blinded by their wingspan as the two birds fought over their prize inches from her nose. Still screaming almost as loudly as the seagulls, arms still windmilling, she turned and took off without thought across the beach, her head down, not looking where she was going in her panic as other gulls joined the fray, swooping down on her, their wings batting violently just above her head.

Petra ducked and weaved as the birds fought above her and saw that Clothilde, shoeless now, was running hell for leather toward the waterline. She saw that the original pair of fighting gulls had been joined by three or four others, all fighting for scraps from the now shredded newspaper, circling above the terrified woman, darting and weaving, seeming to be encouraged in their attack by her frantically waving arms. Petra could only imagine how frightened Clothilde must be, she was fairly shaken herself, but the other woman’s predicament was worse than her own had been. It took her another bemused moment to realize where Clothilde was heading and cupped her hands around her mouth, bellowing, “Clothilde, stop. Turn around.”

The other woman took no notice, even if she’d heard, and Petra was uncertain about that. Kicking off her sandals Petra did the only thing she could think of and raced after Clothilde, still shouting at her to stop.

The gatherers along the sand’s edge stopped at the commotion, looking around them. When they saw what was happening they too began to shout at the fleeing figure. Almost everyone on the beach but Clothilde Delmont knew the dangers of the mud flats.