‘Hell no! Not yet,’ cried Robin. ‘We need to report it to the police first, let them investigate, make sure it’s definitely him. My money says it is though.’
Jack nodded in agreement, then asked, ‘Do you think we should confront Adrian beforehand?’
‘What? And give him chance to torch the van? It’s evidence, Jack, and it’s in his bloody garage!’ rasped Robin.
‘OK, OK,’ Jack tried to pacify Robin, although he too was beginning to feel on edge. ‘We’ll go to the police together. I’ll drive, you look shaken, Rob.’
All the while, Robin was trying to anticipate Jasmine’s reaction to the news that would inevitably follow. Deep down, Robin knew he had stumbled upon something sinister the likes of which Samphire Bay had never seen.
Chapter 16
Living on a peninsula with a cross tidal road meant that Bunty’s guests always had to plan their visits carefully. Jasmine was doing the very same thing. She looked at the tide times which were propped up on the kitchen windowsill. After studying them, she decided the best time to visit would be ten thirty in the morning, at low tide, giving her a few hours to get back home safely.
Jasmine had been genuinely saddened to hear how upset Bunty was when Robin had given her the photographs. It both touched and surprised her how a larger than life, gregarious, tell-it-as-it-is character could react in such a way, given the length of time it had been since those photographs had been taken. It must have been over fifty-odd years ago, judging by the looks of her and the man in the pictures. Jasmine wondered, not for the first time, who the man was; who had made Bunty smile and laugh so carefree and wantonly? And what had happened to him? He certainly wasn’t on the scene any more, mores the pity, she suspected.
Travelling down the tidal road, it amazed her how flat and clear it could be one minute yet was so easily covered by the racing tide as it reached its highest point. It was incredible, really, how quickly the conditions changed. So much so, photographs of stranded cars in the sea were displayed on a notice board at the beginning of the road, to act as a warning for anyone daring or foolish enough to try and beat the rushing water.
Jasmine had allowed herself plenty of time as she breezed down the road with the wind blowing through the car windows. She breathed in deeply, smelling the salt in the sea air. She saw the magnificent art deco house standing high above the estuary, showing off its 1930s architecture. Jasmine admired the curvature of the bow windows and the parapets of its exterior. It was all so tasteful and intriguing; she was curious to see inside it.
After parking her car, she climbed up the stone steps and rang the doorbell. It wasn’t long before Bunty’s outline appeared in the glass door. She opened it with a big beam at seeing who it was.
‘Jasmine! Lovely to see you.’ She held the door open and ushered her inside.
Jasmine instantly took in the high, cherry yellow ceiling with a glamorous chandelier in gold leaf and chrome finishing, the full-length fan wall mirror and the sweeping staircase. The rooms leading off the hall had the typical art deco sunburst mantels above the door frames and the light switches had the original brass cases. It was all so captivating and very fitting of the era it had been built. Jasmine almost expected a pretty young maid to come scurrying in, dressed in a black uniform with a white frilly apron and headdress.
Her fascination continued when Bunty led them into the drawing room with high dusty pink walls, covered with two elaborate mirrors and various watercolour paintings in ornate gold frames. She wafted over to a retro glass drinks cabinet and began making drinks.
‘Gin and tonic, darling?’ she enquired, already pouring into two tumblers.
‘Just the one please,’ answered Jasmine.
She glanced at the sea landscapes and noticed their tiny signature in the corners:Hamish Deville. She assumed this was Bunty’s father, or maybe an uncle.
‘Daddy was a brilliant artist,’ announced Bunty passing her drink. She’d seen Jasmine squinting to read the painting’s signature.
‘Ah, I see. Yes, they’re wonderful. Thanks,’ said Jasmine taking her glass. Then, as they sat down by the table, she noticed the photographs that Robin had found. They were all positioned neatly in a row. Jasmine looked at them, then slowly lifted her head to face Bunty who was staring at her.
‘Have you already seen these?’ asked Bunty, pointing towards the black and white pictures.
There was no point in denying it, so Jasmine came clean.
‘Yes, Bunty, I have. Robin showed them to me,’ she admitted, then took a sip of her drink.Hell, it was strong!She coughed at its sharpness.
Bunty nodded her head.
‘Yes, I thought he might have,’ she said, appreciating the girl’s honesty. They both looked back at the snapshots on the table, stories from long ago. ‘Why are you here, Jasmine?’ Bunty asked a tad abruptly, interrupting any sentimental impression that might have been on the brink of emerging.
Taken aback by Bunty’s briskness, Jasmine blinked and took another sip of her drink before replying, refusing to be intimidated.
‘I was wondering if you would like to come to mine for dinner one evening?’
At this Bunty gave a delighted – if not somewhat surprised – smile.
‘Dinner? At yours?’ she repeated, her face lit up with glee.
Jasmine smiled. ‘Yes, I’d love to have you round and show you what I’ve done with the place.’
‘I’d love to, darling, how kind,’ Bunty cheered, thoroughly pleased with the invite.
