“I’m next door, the wee bungalow next to this huge compound . . . They do have me over often, and I swim in their pool a couple of mornings a week, so I can’t complain. They’re lovely lads . . . How do you know them from Exeter?” she asked inquisitively, peering up at them.
“We go to Jesper’s often, their bar. They’re always saying that we must pop in when we’re in the area,” said Tristan. “We’ve been in Birmingham for the day.”
Elspeth locked the door and pocketed the key. “Can I leave them a message? Although I probably won’t talk to them on the phone,” she said. She started to walk back down the track toward the beach. Kate and Tristan followed.
“No. It’s fine. I’ll send them an email. I’ll probably run into Max when he’s back next week,” said Kate.
“Righto. Is that you parked down there?”
“Yes. The beach is so different here than it is further down with the promenade,” said Kate. “The tide goes so far out.”
Elspeth followed Kate’s gaze down to the beach.
“The tide isn’t fully out. People think that’s it, but it goes out way further. Burnham-on-Sea has the second-highest tidal range in the world. The tides range eleven meters from high to low. We’re second only to the Bay of Fundy in Canada,” she said.
“How far out can you walk?” asked Tristan.
“I wouldn’t go much further out than you can see there,” said Elspeth. “And even then, you must keep an eye out because it comes in very fast, and there are patches of sinking mud out on the flats. There are patrols down the coast in the high season . . . Nick, bless him, gets very concerned when he sees people out walking when the tide’s low . . . I’ve often seen him go and start shouting at people to come back. Has he told you about his hovercraft?”
“No.”
“He’s got this wee hovercraft, the same one as the lifeboat people use. It’s the only thing you can take far out on the mudflats because it hovers.”
“How much does a hovercraft cost?” asked Kate.
“I don’t know. Probably more than I get in a whole year for my pension,” Elspeth chuckled. “He helped pull a wee doggy out last summer. Even when the mud is shallow, it’s thick like porridge, and you can get into trouble, like this woman did with her basset hound . . . You must have seen the reports on the local news?”
“The story of a basset hound getting stuck made the news?” asked Tristan. They’d now reached the bottom of the track.
“Of course not,” said Elspeth, flashing Tristan a flirtatious smile. “I meant people getting stuck in the sand, it often makes the local news . . . There isn’t a summer that goes by without a person or some foolish picnickers who drive out on the sand and then have to abandon their cars when they get stuck and the tide comes roaring back in.”
“Are they here often, Nick and Max?”
“A few days a week. They both have busy jobs . . . How well do you know them?” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun, which had just come out from behind a cloud.
“They seem to travel around so much—I’m used to seeing them in Exeter,” said Kate.
“You must come to their summer parties?”
“Yes, we enjoyed the masked ball last August, with the ice sculpture . . . I don’t remember seeing you there?” said Tristan.
“I’m too old for all that. I prefer to see the boys for morning coffee. Although Nick seems to always be away; I never get to see them together . . . Right. I’d better be off. Nice to meet you.”
“Lovely to meet you, bye,” said Kate. Elspeth gave them a nod and started along the sandy footpath to her bungalow.
As Kate and Tristan walked down to the car, Kate watched Elspeth picking her way along the footpath, and was pleased to see she didn’t turn to look back at them.
“I don’t know if I overdid it.”
“Where did you get Maureen and John?” asked Tristan.
“I don’t know.”
“Good thinking on your feet, though. It sounds like she’s a good friend of theirs.”
“Or is she just a nosy old biddy to keep an eye on their house whilst they’re away? I wonder why she was leaving with a bag of fruit. She was probably nicking it. Let’s go,” she said, shivering. They got in the car.
“It’s like the end of the earth,” said Tristan. He started the engine and turned on the heater. He turned the car around in the small parking area and then drove back down the sandy track. Thick cotton wool–like clumps of mist came drifting in front of the car, breaking away from the mist on the sand.