We came down to the estuary. The little ferry had disgorged its passengers and was now chugging back to Padstow on the other side. Padstow, I could see from here, looked like the traditional Cornish harbor town with houses clinging to the hillside above a harbor wall. This side had no proper sheltered cove, only a jetty. Most of the boats were moored out in the channel and were now sitting on the sandy bottom, the tide having receded. Beside the jetty there was a tackle shop, displaying everything from marine engines to buckets, spades and shrimping nets for young holidaymakers. I didn’t think there would be much call for those at this time of year.

“Not exactly a lot to see, is there?” Belinda said. “The whole place is deserted.”

“It is October,” I pointed out. “And when you think of the weather yesterday it would hardly entice anyone down here. Would you say those are fishing boats or only pleasure craft?”

Belinda examined them. “Oh, I think the fishing boats would be on the other side at Padstow,” she said. “Good little harbor there. It wouldn’t be much good trying to make your living as a fisherman if your boat was stuck on a sandbar half the time.”

“How big a start should we give Rose?” I asked. The breeze was now picking up and was quite cold here facing the open sea. “Should we see if there is somewhere to get a cup of tea or coffee first?”

Belinda hesitated. “Anything to put it off a little longer,” she said. “I so wish we hadn’t agreed to do this. But there wasn’t really any way out of it, was there? She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Buck up, old thing. It might be quite fun.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “Good food and a good bed, anyway.”

“I don’t think I could define time spent with Rose as fun,” she said, shrugging off my hand. “And I’m worried about Tony. What if Rose is not proving satisfactory in the marital department and he wants to resume where we left off?”

“I’ll stick to you like glue, if you like,” I said. “But you should give poor Rose the benefit of the doubt. And if it’s too uncomfortable, we’ll find our excuse to leave.”

Belinda nodded. She had been staring down the estuary in the direction of Trewoma. Now she turned back to the tackle shop. “They might know where we could find a cup of tea,” she said.

As she was about to go in a man was coming out, his arms laden with several packages. He almost bumped into her.

“Oh, I’m frightfully sorry,” he said. Then he squinted, frowned and exclaimed. “My God, it’s Belinda. What in God’s name are you doing here?”

“Uncle Francis!” Belinda cried. “I had no idea you were in this part of the world.”