“You put tomato sauce on the pie and if it sinks you don’t eat it because the meats off,” explained Katie, passing on the offer of a cup of the tepid grey coffee.
They were soon headed down the M5 looking for the turnoff for Barnstable and their destination. As they left Bideford on the A39 and started to look for signs to Clovelly the roads became much narrower and twisty. In some places there were high hedges on either side of the road and they came across tractors, piled high with early harvested hay, which demonstrated none of the usual road etiquette he had expected from country folk. The tractors drove at 20 miles an hour swinging all over the place then pulling off into a side turning or field without a signal. He got the distinct feeling that the drivers hated the intrusion of outsiders.
“Keep an eye out for a sign to Clovelly. The estate agent warned me that it suddenly comes up on a sharp bend in the road. If we miss it I don’t fancy trying to do a three point turn on these roads,” he shouted across to Katie who was now wide awake and fiddling with the dial on the car radio.”
“You just concentrate on the road. According to the map we are few miles away yet,” said Katie in a tone that he found rather officious. In the next instant she shouted out, “There it is on the right.”
He swerved the car instinctively in response to her shout. Fortunately the XJ6 is renowned for its good road holding and with a squeal from the tires he made the turn. Ralph bit his lip to refrain from swearing.
“You were driving too fast, Ralph. You nearly missed it”
He suppressed another curse as they drove along a road that in places turned into a single track with sharp bends.
“How come these roads are covered in that brown muck?” Katie asked.
“It must have rained here overnight,” he shouted as he struggled to hold the road on the tight bends. “The mud must have slid down from the hillside.”
“It doesn’t look like mud to me, Ralph, I think it’s some sort of manure.”
“By gosh I think you’re right. It looks like cow droppings, and pretty fresh by the smell of it,” he shouted as he tried to avoid skidding.
“Slow down Ralph, we aren’t in a race you know,” Katie shouted as she hung on to the grab bars in the roof.
They rounded another sharp curve and nearly ran headlong into a herdsman, his dog and a solid wall of cows that seemed intent on walking straight through Ralph’s beloved car. He drew the car to a shuddering halt.
“Back up Ralph and let this bloke through. It doesn’t look like they’re going to stop and they’ll take your wing mirrors off on this narrow road.” Ralph couldn’t see anything behind because of the sharp bend in the road so he dare not try backing up. He realized that it was too late to do anything except hold his breath and hope they made it through unscathed. He winced as the herdsman tried to keep the cows to the side of the road.
“Mornin zur. Cows won’t touch yur car,” he laughed as the herd grunted and bellowed as they swung past.
Soon it was quiet again. Then all they had to contend with was a road strewn with piles of fresh wet cow paddies. Ralph drove slowly through it and he could hear it smacking up against the underside of the car, no doubt sticking like glue as it dried out against the hot exhaust pipe. He tried to appear nonchalant and opened the window only to be struck by a nostril bending smell.
“It’s great to be in the real countryside, don’t you think? Just smell that fresh country air.
Aren’t you having a good time?” laughed Katie.
“Well, it’s certainly a contrast to London, or to sleepy little Surbiton,” Ralph admitted. “I’m sure it has its good points.”
Before long they came to a small village where the signpost displayed several names of villages, but none were on their map.
“I’ll get out and ask at one of these cottages,” said Ralph as he pulled up in front of a large house that looked in need of some maintenance as the paint was all faded and the trees had bent over in the strong winds that blew from the Bristol Channel during the winter. Walking over the cracked paving stones, which had at one time been the driveway, he knocked on the door. After 5 minutes he started to walk back to the car.
“Go round the back, Ralph,” Katie shouted. “They are probably outside and didn’t hear you knock.”
He grimaced. Going around the back of a stranger’s house was not something he would have done left to his own devices. But on this occasion he did as Katie suggested. As he tried to open the side gate he heard a voice from a nearby field.
“Them’s out doin’ they cattle dip. Foot an’ mouth disease. Darned nonsense. ”
He saw an old man leaning on a rickety five barred gate.
“We’re trying to get to Clovelly.”
“Roit.”
It was not the answer he had expected or wanted. He tried again as Katie gesticulated to him that he should persevere.
“Do we go straight ahead for Clovelly?”
“You could do. It’s not far.”
Ralph thanked him as he backed the car out onto the road and drove off.
“Are you sure we haven’t crossed some border and are in a different country? That bloke didn’t seem like the sharpest knife in the box,” Ralph grumbled. “And what language was he speaking anyhow?” Katie knew better than to offer one of her usual quips when Ralph was agitated, but she couldn’t help laughing as he tried to make sense of yet another signpost that was hanging at a drunken angle that pointed in no particular direction at all.
After a few miles they suddenly turned a corner and there in front of them was the Bristol Channel gleaming blue in the bright afternoon sunlight. Nestled among the green rolling hills dotted with grazing sheep was a thatched cottage with whitewashed walls covered in climbing roses.
“I bet that’s our place, Ralph. I bet you five pounds.”
As they got closer he could see it was exactly as he remembered. He sighed with relief and stretched his shoulders which he realized he had been tensing since they had left the motorway. Country driving in Devon was not for the faint hearted and he could see why Land Rovers were so popular amongst the farming community. They had arrived at Rose Cottage, their new home away from home.
“The estate guy said the key is under the flowerpot by the front door,” said Ralph as he grabbed their bags from the car.
“Wow. This is great,” Katie said enthusiastically once they were inside. “It’s cozy but with lots of light. And that desk over by the window should be perfect for writing up your report; that is if you can keep from staring out the window watching the boats go by long enough to do some work.”
Katie busied herself poking around in the kitchen and checking the rooms. She had to admit to herself that it was much bigger than she had expected. She soon had the kettle going and warmed the pot for some tea.
“The fireplace is set but I can’t imagine we will have to use it if this weather keeps up,” said Ralph when he came downstairs from putting their bags in the bedrooms.
“Why don’t we take our tea and sit out in the garden and just relax and unwind before we think about anything else,” Katie suggested. “After all, we have nearly two months to sort things out around here.”
“I just thought I’d make sure all of the electrics and water and everything is working properly,” Ralph said.
“Oh no you don’t,” Katie said as she took the tray outside and set it on the white wrought iron table that overlooked the sea. “Once you get started there’ll be no stopping you until you simply drop in your tracks.”
“I guess I could use a bit of a pick me up after that debacle with the cows,” Ralph admitted.
“Where did those come from?” he asked and pointed to the tray of biscuits and the lemon drizzle cake that was on the table next to the tea.
“Maybe the estate agent. I don’t know. But as someone has kindly left them as a welcome to the neighbourhood for us it would be rude if we didn’t sit down and enjoy them,” Katie joked. “I’ll pour the tea if you’
ll get those chairs so we won’t have to drink it standing up,” she added as she pointed in the general direction of the detached garage.
Ralph went to fetch the chairs and found that he was humming as he dragged them over to where Katie was laying out the cake and biscuits.
“It really is peaceful here,” Katie said as Ralph held her chair for her.
“It is rather nice,” Ralph agreed. “But I wonder why someone as rich and famous as Richard Wakely lived here when he could have had a farm and his own stables.”
“Maybe he just fell in love with the spot,” Katie offered. “The view is magnificent and I think I can see your mysterious Lundy Island off in the distance if I squint a little bit.”
Katie is in her element he thought, as he looked out across the sea.
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Chapter 4
It was a perfect summer’s evening as Katie cooked some of the provisions purchased in Taunton when they had stopped for lunch. They feasted on grilled steak, new potatoes, sautéed onions, and a green salad, with a cold beer for Ralph and the usual chilled tap water for Katie, enjoying their meal sitting at a wooden table under an old apple tree at the bottom of the garden.
“Excellent, Katie, That hit the spot for me.”
“Thanks. But don’t get too used to home cooking. This is meant to be a holiday, and I don’t plan to spend it slaving over a hot stove.”
“You’re right. There are plenty of good pubs around here and one or two good restaurants are shown in that guide to North Devon I found in the bookcase.”
“I saw a car parked at the end of the lane leading to the cottage when I went to get something out of the car before supper. Do you think the estate agent forgot to put a ‘sold’ notice up?” Asked Katie as she leaned back to enjoy the view.
“Could be the locals coming to check out the ‘incomers’ as I expect we will be called. I read somewhere that it takes 10 years before they accept new people, and then only if they like you. Or it could be something to do with Wakely’s death. Maybe the people that vandalized the place didn’t find what they were looking for and want to come back for a further search.”
“Now you’re being scary, Ralph. Come to think of it, it was probably just a couple looking for a nice place to stay for the night. The cottage could have been a holiday let before at one time.”
Ralph had arranged a surprise for Katie as he knew she would want to explore the countryside while he was working. Their conversation in the car on the way down confirmed that it would be quite apropos.
“See the old barn behind the rhododendron bushes?” Ralph asked.
“Yes, although they’ll need to be cut back if we expect to use it.”
“We’ll need to get some gardening tools in town before we try anything too challenging, but when I came down to inspect the property I did manage to get inside the barn for a rummage around. Want to take a stroll over there and have a look?”
“Okay. Who knows, maybe some of that pirates’ treasure is buried over there.”
“Could be,” said Ralph.”
They walked down the overgrown pathway and opened the rust streaked double doors. Inside was a gleaming red vintage Morgan Sports car.
“I was only joking about finding treasure, Ralph. This must belong to someone.”
“The estate agent said that Wakely’s daughter told him to throw it in as a sweetener to sell the place more quickly. Of course it looked a bit sorry for itself when I saw it before, but those boys at the garage we passed in Taunton seem to have done a stellar job restoring it to its former glory.”
“Does that mean it belongs to us?”
“Not really,” Ralph said, waiting for an outburst.
“But I want it!” Katie exclaimed.
“Well, that’s a relief because I thought I was going to have to flog it on ebay,” Ralph said with a slight smirk on his face.
“Do you mean it’s ours?”
“That’s why I had it fixed up. I figured you might want to go exploring while I was busy with the report.”
“Ralph Chalmers, you just don’t want me to get my hands on your precious XJ6!”
“Not at all. I just thought it would make a nice surprise.”
“Well, I don’t care what your real motive is. I love it and can’t wait to get behind the wheel.”
“You know the Morgan is made by a small privately owned British company and they are assembled by hand. Some say there is a 3 year waiting list if you want to buy one,” Ralph explained.
“I doubt I’d have the patience to wait that long, but it will be great to have my own wheels.”
“I thought you could use it to run around the local villages. The lads tell me that they hold the road like a limpet and with the top down and your scarf flowing in the wind you will be the toast of the village.”
“Not sure about the scarf bit, Ralph. It didn’t work so well for Isadora Duncan. No, I think a nice beret is more my style, and much less likely to strangle me to death. Pallor is not the best fashion accessory, I’m told.” She laughed and gave him a hug.
Ralph was a bit embarrassed by Katie’s demonstrative show of appreciation, but he tried not to show it.
“The key is in the ignition so tomorrow you can fire her up and be as free as a bird.”
“No way. Let’s try it now before it gets too dark,” Katie said as she got in the driver’s side and turned the key.
“I need to stretch my legs a bit and walk off some of that supper,” Ralph said.
“Oh, come on. We can drive as far as Bideford and back and then have a bit of a walk afterwards. Two birds with one stone.”
“Oh, okay. Guess it wasn’t fair to show it to you and then make you wait to try it out,” Ralph said as he got in on the passenger side.
When they got back, Ralph grabbed his binoculars from the cottage and with sweaters draped over their shoulders they set out along the narrow path that lead to the cliffs overlooking Mouth Mill Cove, with Hartland Point in the distance.
Katie ran ahead. Turning back to Ralph she shouted out, “These paths are probably hundreds of years old. No doubt the smugglers came this way.”
“Or the wreckers,” added Ralph. “The locals used to wait until it was dark and if they saw a sailing ship on the horizon they would swing lighted lamps so the skipper would think it was a harbour. Once they were close to the shore with the wind driving them in further, there was no way of getting back out to sea and the ship would founder on the rocks. The local gang would murder the sailors who managed to get ashore then plunder the ship. It was the way they managed to survive the winters.”
“Sounds pretty grim. And you English are so proud of being civilized. It sounds like your ancestors were a bunch of cut-throats to me,” shouted Katie over the crash of the waves beating on the rocks 350 feet below. That and the noise from the wheeling seagulls overhead was making it difficult to hear. She waited for Ralph to catch up. “Look there’s a boat of some sort down there.”
“It could be fishing for lobsters or perhaps they’ve just anchored there for the night.” Seeing the trawler reminded him of the incident with the Mary Ann some weeks earlier.
“When I was down trying out my yacht I came across a trawler similar to that one down there. The difference was that there was no one aboard.”
“How come?”
“Well to cut a long story short, I think there must have been an accident of some sort and the crew must have been washed overboard.”
“Did you see them?”
“No there was no sign of life. I called the Coast Guard and they came and recovered the boat. It was all very low key really. I never heard any more about it. There was nothing in the London papers. It could have been an insurance scam or something like that. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.”
“So no headlines about Captain Ralph saving the crew of a fishing trawler from a tragic death on the rocks,” shouted Katie. As she ducked from a playful swing from
Ralph.
“But seriously, Ralph, you’d think that anyone from around here would know better than to come in that close to the rocks.”
“I expect it’s a normal occurrence around these bays. But it is a bit weird that a fishing trawler would do something stupid like that. Those guys are brought up as kids on boats and must know these bays like the backs of their hands. My guess is they could have been pulling in the nets by hand, set the trawler to keep itself into wind and something went wrong.”
“But wouldn’t someone have gone out searching for them when they didn’t return home?”
“These chaps are out at sea for long periods and no one would have reported them missing or overdue in harbour until the next morning.”
“Sounds awful. You mean those poor buggers could have drowned?”
“I left it to the Coast Guard and the Life Boat Station at Clovelly. If the skipper and crew did drown then their bodies would eventually be washed up in some cove along the coast. If they had life jackets then they might have survived for a while, but the sea is cold and not very hospitable.”
As they walked back up the path to the cottage Katie wondered how many times Ralph had been in risky situations when sailing; he sounded so blasé about the whole incident. At times she felt Ralph had a hard side which he tried to hide.
Back at the cottage they had a cup of hot chocolate before retiring to bed. Katie tossed and turned as she tried to sleep but the wind sighed in the trees outside the open window and she could hear the sheep bleating on the hillside and the cries of the seagulls over the sea. In her half-sleep they sounded like the cries of drowning men. But Ralph’s snoring on the other side of the wall made her feel safe and at last she fell asleep dreaming of driving her red sports car around the sun dappled lanes. Tomorrow was going to be a perfect day.
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Chapter 5
Murder at High Tide (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 4) Page 3