Dead Water. Ngaio Marsh

‘That I be, ma-am,’ he said. ‘If you be thinking of our Wally, ma-am, that I be, and mortal proud to own up to him.’

      ‘I shall see you, if you please,’ said Miss Emily, ‘later.’ For a second or two everyone was motionless.

      She shook hands with her host.

      ‘This is nice,’ he assured her. ‘And what a day we’ve produced for you! Now, about these steps of ours. Bit stiff, I’m afraid. May I –?’

      ‘No, thank you. I shall be sustained in my ascent,’ said Miss Emily, fixing Miss Cost’s shop and then the hotel façade in her gaze, ‘by the prospect.’

      She led the way up the steps.

      ‘’Jove!’ the Major exclaimed when they arrived at the top. ‘You’re too good for me, Miss Pride. Wonderful going! Wonderful!’

      She looked briefly at him. ‘My habits,’ she said, ‘are abstemious. A little wine or cognac only. I have never been a smoker.’

      ‘Jolly good! Jolly good!’ he applauded. Jenny began to feel acutely sorry for him.

      Margaret Barrimore waited in the main entrance. She greeted Miss Emily with no marked increase in her usual diffidence. ‘I hope you had a pleasant journey,’ she said. ‘Would you like to have luncheon upstairs? There’s a small sitting-room we’ve kept for you. Otherwise, the dining-room is here.’ Miss Emily settled for the dining-room but wished to see her apartment first. Mrs Barrimore took her up. Her husband, Patrick and Jenny stood in the hall below and had nothing to say to each other. The Major, out of forgetfulness, it seemed, was still madly beaming. He caught his step-son’s eye, uttered an expletive and without further comment, made for the bar.

      Miss Emily, when she had lunched, took her customary siesta. She removed her dress and shoes, loosened her stays, put on a grey cotton peignoir and lay on the bed. There were several illustrated brochures to hand and she examined them. One contained a rather elaborate account of the original cure. It displayed a fanciful drawing of the Green Lady, photographs of the Spring, of Wally Trehern and a number of people passing through a sort of turnpike. A second gave a long list of subsequent healings with names and personal tributes. Miss Emily counted them up. Nine warts, five asthmas (including Miss Cost), three arthritics, two migraines and two chronic diarrhoeas (anonymous). ‘And many many more who have experienced relief and improvement,’ the brochure added. A folder advertised the coming Festival and, inset, Elspeth Cost’s Giffte Shoppe. There was also a whimsical map of the Island with boats, fish, nets and pixies and, of course, a Green Lady.

      Miss Emily studied the map and noted that it showed a direct route from The Boy-and-Lobster to the Spring.

      A more business-like leaflet caught her attention.

      THE TIDES AT PORTCARROW

      The tides running between the village and the island show considerable variation in clock times. Roughly speaking, the water reaches its peak level twice in 24 hours and its lowest level at times which are about midway between those of high water. High and dead water times may vary from day to day with a lag of about 1-1 3/4 hours in 24 hours. Thus if high water falls at noon on Sunday it may occur somewhere between 1 and 2.45 p.m. on Monday afternoon. About a fortnight may elapse before the cycle is completed and high water again falls between noon and 1.45 on Sunday.

      Visitors will usually find the causeway is negotiable for 2 hours before and after low water. The hotel launch and dinghies are always available and all the jetties reach into deep water at low tide.

      Expected times for high tide and dead water will be posted up daily at the Reception Desk in the main entrance.

      Miss Emily studied this information for some minutes. She then consulted the whimsical map.

      At five o’clock she caused tea to be brought to her. Half an hour later, she dressed and descended, umbrella in hand, to the vestibule.

      The hall-porter was on duty. When he saw Miss Emily he pressed a bell-push on his desk and rose with a serviceable smirk. ‘Can I help you, madam?’ he asked.

      ‘In so far as I require admission to the enclosure, I believe you may. I understand that entry is effected by means of some plaque or token,’ said Miss Emily.

      He opened a drawer and extracted a metal disc. ‘I shall require,’ she said, ‘seven,’ and laid two half-crowns and a florin on the desk. The hall-porter completed the number.

      ‘No, no, no!’ Major Barrimore expostulated, bouncing out from the interior. ‘We can’t allow this. Nonsense!’ He waved the hall-porter away. ‘See that a dozen of these things are sent up to Miss Pride’s suite,’ he said and bent gallantly over his guest. ‘I’m so sorry! Ridiculous!’

      ‘You are very good,’ she rejoined, ‘but I prefer to pay.’ She opened her reticule, swept the discs into it and shut it with a formidable snap. ‘Thank you,’ she said dismissing the hall-porter. She prepared to leave.

      ‘I don’t approve,’ Major Barrimore began, ‘I – really, it’s very naughty of you. Now, may I – as it’s your first visit since – may I just show you the easiest way?’