Bones Under The Beach Hut

Kelvin's face took on an expression of mock hurt. 'Does there have to be a reason? Isn't it enough that I should want to spend time with a beautiful woman?'

Her first instinct was to say that she wasn't a beautiful woman, but Carole curbed it. She couldn't face the inevitable blandishments and reassurances that such an assertion would provoke. 'So what is it you want to talk to me about?'

He again looked offended by her directness. 'Well, of course, about the beach hut. About Quiet Harbour.'

'Yes?'

The order arrived, so Kelvin Southwest broke off for a smirk at the waitress and a 'Thank you, my lovely'. He then took a large bite from his Swiss bun, whose icing was soft and left a pink frosting on the moustache of his goatee.

'So what about the beach hut?' Carole went on gracelessly.

'Well, the fire damage will have to be repaired.'

'Obviously. And I assume the repairs will be organized by someone from Fether District Council?'

'Not just someone, Carole.' He beamed as he pointed a chubby finger at his chest. 'By me. By yours truly, Kelvin Southwest.'

'Oh, well, good. How long do you think it'll take?'

'I'll have to get on to the contractors. Depends how busy they are. But with a bit of luck they'll get it done within the month.'

'Within the month? That's no good to me. My daughter-in-law and granddaughter are coming to stay with me on Sunday week.'

'Oh dear, oh dear. I suppose I could tell the contractors it was top priority.'

'If you would, I'd be most grateful.'

He shook his head sceptically. 'I still doubt if they could do it before Sunday week, though.'

'But that's the main reason I took over the beach hut from Philly Rose. So that I'd have it for my granddaughter.'

'Well ..." Kelvin Southwest stroked his wispy goatee with deliberation. 'We are presented with rather a dilemma, aren't we? And that dilemma is not made easier by the fact that your taking over the rental of Quiet Harbour from Philly Rose was not entirely within the strict rules of Fether District Council for the letting of beach huts.'

'But you told me that—'

He raised a placatory hand. 'Don't worry. It's down to me to make that kind of decision. The beach huts are really my empire, you know.'

This was said without irony. He really did believe what he was saying. Carole got the feeling that, to his own mind, the most suitable adjectives to describe Kelvin Southwest might include 'Napoleonic' and 'Churchillian'.

'So,' he went on, 'if I've given my approval of Philly Rose's transfer of the rental to you, that is a decision by which I will stand.'

'Oh, thank you so much, Mr Southwest.'

'Kel, please, Kel.'

'Very well,' said Carole, hiding her distaste, 'Kel.'

He looked at her with an expression of winsome complicity. 'As I may have mentioned, I'm a bit of a sucker when there's a pretty woman involved.'

Carole didn't know whether he was referring to Philly or to her — or to both of them — so her only reaction was a little nervous giggle.

Enjoying the teasing out of his narrative, Kelvin Southwest put the last piece of his Swiss bun into his mouth and masticated it thoroughly before he went on, 'Now I'm a reasonable man, Carole, and when I can I like to help people out — particularly of course when they're pretty women — and I think I can see a way round your little problem . . .'

'Oh?'

'Yes, indeed. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours.' Carole could only think at that moment of one prospect that appealed to her less than scratching the plump back of Kelvin Southwest. And that was having hers scratched by him.

'You see, Carole, as I said, the beach huts are my empire, and in that empire what I say goes. If I get an applicant for a beach hut who I don't think to be a suitable tenant — and it does happen more often than you might imagine — then I tell them to get lost. Well, no, I don't, not in so many words. I tell them that there are sadly no beach huts available, even if there are. So you see, though I'm employed under the broad umbrella of Fether District Council, within my empire I make my own rules.'

He paused, as if expecting some commendation for this statement, and Carole found herself asking rather fatuously, 'And why not?'

'So, in the same way, Carole, if I were to decide to offer you the use of another vacant hut here on Smalting Beach while Quiet Harbour is being repaired, well, that could be done . . . just on my say-so. It would be up to me to make that decision.'

'Good. Well, I mean, if you could see your way to-'

Again he raised a podgy hand and she was deferentially silent. 'As I said, I'm always happy to oblige when there's a pretty woman involved.' Yes, as you said rather a lot of times, thought Carole. 'So I think that could be the solution, don't you?'

'That you give me the use of an empty beach hut?'

'Yes.'

'Well, that would be very generous of you.'

'I would regard it as the least I could do, Carole. You took over Quiet Harbour from Philly Rose in the belief that you were taking over a perfect working beach hut. You then discovered that it had a hole burned in its floor. Repairing that is within the remit of Fether District Council — or, to be more specific, of me, Kelvin Southwest. It is not your fault that your beach hut has been damaged and you have paid the rental money to Philly Rose in good faith. I would be in dereliction of my duty were I not to attempt to make amends to you.'

We know all that, thought Carole impatiently. Will you please get on with it, you boring little man? 'I would, as I say, be very grateful—'

'Leave it with me,' he said magisterially. 'I will find you another beach hut here on Smalting Beach. It may not be precisely what I should do, according to the terms of my employment by Fether District Council, but it's what I'm going to do. Rules are there for the unimaginative foot soldiers of life. For a maverick free spirit like myself, they are there to be broken. And I'm always prepared to break the rules ..." He brought out his roguish smile again '. . . particularly when there's a pretty woman involved.'

'Well, thank you,' said Carole, thinking that now he had announced what he was going to do, there was nothing to stop him doing it as soon as possible and ending what she was finding a rather awkward tete-a-tete.

But Kelvin Southwest was not yet ready to relinquish his hold on her. He wanted to luxuriate for a while in his magnanimity and her gratitude. So he favoured Carole with tales of other occasions when he'd seen his way to bending Fether District Council's rules in the matter of beach huts.

Eventually, when her eyes were in serious danger of glazing over, he paused long enough for Carole to ask, 'Will you be investigating?'

'Investigating what?' he asked, the wind temporarily taken out of his sails.

'The fire at Quiet Harbour. Will you be trying to find out who was responsible for it?'

'I will try. I will ask around. But without much confidence that I'll find the answer. I'm sure it was done by some kids after dark. I doubt if there were any witnesses.'

'But it looks as though someone put the fire out before it could do any more damage.'

'Maybe, but I shouldn't think anyone witnessed that action either.'

'Perhaps not.'

'And while we're talking of investigation, Carole . . .' A new beadiness came into his eyes '. . . you can assure me, can you, that you had nothing to do with the hammering in of the new nails in the floor of Quiet Harbour?'

'Of course I can. Yesterday morning was the first time I'd been in the place.'

'Yes, yes, right you are.' Finally he rose to his feet, saying, 'Well, Carole, would you like me to show you your new beach hut?'