Bones Under The Beach Hut

'Yes, I suppose you're right.'

Jude's approach was, as ever, less confrontational than her neighbour's. 'So why didn't you contact Philly?' she asked gently.

'That was what I meant to do. I'd been out of the Lewes hospital for over a week, I'd sorted out the rather dingy room I've got here in Littlehampton, and I felt ready to at least try and see Philly. So I took a cab to Smalting that Monday evening.'

'Without ringing Philly to tell her you were coming?'

'Yes, without doing that. And I think I know why. If I'm brutally honest with myself, I didn't ring her because that meant I could still duck out of the meeting if I wanted to. You know, if when I got to Smalting I lost my nerve.'

'And I assume you did lose your nerve. That was why you didn't go to see her.'

'Well, it wasn't exactly losing my nerve, though I suppose it was in a way. I got to Smalting and rather than going straight to Seashell Cottage, I . . . well, I thought I might drop in on Gray Czesky, just to see if he'd heard anything about Philly, to see if he knew whether she was actually still in Smalting and . . . Yes, I suppose I did lose my nerve.'

'And you also, I assume, knew,' said Carole, 'that going to see Gray Czesky would inevitably lead to another drinking session with him.'

Jude continued the chain of thought. 'And you wouldn't want Philly to see you in a drunken state, because that is one of the few things you argued about. So the moment you decided to go and see Gray was the moment you decided you weren't going to see Philly that evening.'

Mark Dennis's nod confirmed that she'd got it right. 'And I did get very drunk, I'm afraid. I'd been off the booze since I'd had the breakdown. No bars in psychiatric hospitals — at least not that kind of bar. So the stuff I drank at Gray's went straight to my head. And I don't think it mixed very well with the medication I was on. Am still on, actually.' He gestured to his mineral water. 'That's why I'm drinking this. Anyway, that night I was certainly in no condition for a heart-warming, violins-in-the-background reunion with Philly.'

'And then, of course,' Carole observed acidly, 'Gray Czesky chose that evening for another of his anti-bourgeois exploits, didn't he?'

'Setting fire to the beach hut,' Mark agreed glumly. 'Yes, he's a madman when he gets a few drinks inside him.'

'What exactly happened?'

'Oh, he got into one of his tirades about how no one understands artists, and the rest of the world has a down on them and only cares about middle-class consumerism.'

'Great from someone whose lifestyle is funded by a rich wife.'

'I know, I know. Anyway, Gray suddenly gets into this great rant about beach huts symbolizing everything that's wrong with the bourgeoisie, and then he disappears. Helga and I thought he'd just gone for a pee, but ten minutes later he's back proclaiming that he's set fire to one of the beach huts.'

'Do you think he deliberately chose Quiet Harbour?' asked Carole. 'Did he know that you and Philly had rented it?'

'Who knows? Perhaps he did. Quite possibly he was getting at me because he reckoned I was too bourgeois to be what he defined as a proper artist.'

'So you and Helga,' suggested Jude, 'immediately rushed down to the beach to put the fire out?'

'Yes.' The two women exchanged looks. Curt Holderness's sighting had been confirmed. 'Fortunately the fire hadn't taken much hold. We were able to extinguish it quite easily.'

'So what did you do then? Go back to Sanditon?'

'No, I was feeling so shitty with the booze, all I wanted to do was get to bed. I called a cab, just managed to avoid throwing up over its upholstery, and went to bed the minute I got back to my room here in Littlehampton. The next morning I woke up with the worst hangover of my life.'

'So that again wasn't the perfect day for your reconciliation with Philly?'

'Too right, Jude.'

'But that was over a week ago,' said Carole. 'Why didn't you get in touch with her once you'd recovered from the hangover?'

'I kept putting off calling her. I was worried about how she'd react to me, whether she'd be furious, whether I'd ruined everything. But finally by the Friday I'd convinced myself I had to take the risk.

Call Philly, accept whatever consequences that action might trigger.'

'I don't think they'd be bad consequences,' said Jude gently.

Mark Dennis appeared not to hear her, as he went on, 'Then of course on the Thursday morning I hear on the news that human remains have been found under a beach hut at Smalting. Well, I knew that meant the place was going to be swarming with police and, though my recollections of what had happened to me after I was found on Dover Beach were vague, there was no way I was ever voluntarily going to put myself in touch with the police again, so . . .' His words trickled away to silence.

'Have you heard about the identification of the remains that were found?' asked Carole.

'Yes. It keeps being on the news. You can't escape it.'

'And do you know anything about Robin Cutter?'

'Only what I've heard in the last few days.' From the way he spoke there was no doubt that Mark Dennis was telling the truth.

He shook his head in puzzlement. 'So that's where I am. Still totally confused.' He looked earnestly at Jude and asked, 'What do you think I should do?'

She held out her mobile phone towards him. 'Ring Philly.'

Chapter Thirty-One

Mark Dennis was afraid — tremblingly, shudderingly afraid. They had driven straight from the pub to Seashell Cottage. When the Renault drew up outside, he asked the two women to come to the front door with him. Then he changed his mind and asked Jude to go on her own and check whether Philly Rose really wanted to see him.

As they waited in the car, Carole was aware of his body convulsing with bone-deep sobs. She was embarrassed and couldn't think of anything to say.

Their wait felt long, but it was only a couple of minutes. Then Jude came out on to the street and said through the Renault's open window, 'She wants to see you, Mark.'

Reassured but still scared, he again asked them to come into the cottage with him. The two women felt a little strange as they escorted Mark through the front door, which Philly held open, but such was the emotional tension between the two young people, they could recognize the need for some kind of catalyst for this first explosive contact.

Awkwardness filled the tiny hall while Philly closed the door. Wordlessly, she ushered her three guests into the kitchen/dining area. The uneasy silence continued until their hostess offered tea.

'Yes,' said Mark very formally. 'Yes, thank you, Philly. I'd like a cup of tea.'

Carole and Jude refused the offer. 'We should really be on our way,' said Jude.

'No, don't go!' The plea from Mark Dennis was instinctive, and still frightened.

'I think we should.' Jude looked at the two of them, facing each other, frozen, their eyes avoiding engagement. 'Come on, Carole. We'll see ourselves out.'

In the Renault on the way back to Fethering, Carole asked, 'What do you reckon? The minute we left, they fell into each other's arms and love's young dream was re-established?'

'I hope so,' said Jude. But she didn't sound sure.

'Well, at least that's one mystery solved,' Carole observed, 'but I can't believe Mark had anything to do with Robin Cutter.'

'No.' Jude was thoughtful, abstracted.

'So I suppose it's another visit tomorrow morning to Smalting Beach. Hope that Reginald Flowers's bronchitis has cleared up, assuming that that's why he wasn't there today.'

'Hm.'

'Are you up for a return visit?'

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Jude said, 'What? Tomorrow? Saturday? No, sorry, I'm committed to a Past Life Regression Workshop in Brighton.'