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portion of the beach in Bow Island, even outside the most stately mansion like Archer Plantation House—except the people). Jemima however was in no doubt that this was a planned visit. She had not forgotten that first meeting, and Coralie’s tentative approach to her, interrupted by Greg’s peremptory cry.
    It was the day after the inquest on Miss Izzy’s death. Her body had been released by the police and the funeral would soon follow. Jemima admitted to herself that she was interested enough in the whole Archer family—in itsvarious branches—to want to attend it, quite apart from the tenderness for the old lady herself, based on that brief meeting. To Megalith Television, in a telex from Bowtown, she had spoken merely of tying up a few loose ends resulting from the cancellation of her programme.
    There had been an open verdict at the inquest. Tina Archer’s evidence in the shape of a sworn statement had not really contributed much which was not known or suspected already. She had been asleep upstairs in one of the many fairly derelict bedrooms kept ostensibly ready for guests. The bedroom chosen for her by Miss Izzy had however not faced on to the sea; the chintz curtains in this back room, bearing some dated rosy pattern from a remote era, were not quite so bleached and tattered as elsewhere, since they had been protected from the sun and salt.
    Miss Izzy had gone to bed in good spirits, reassured by the fact that Tina Archer was going to spend the night. She had drunk several more rum punches and had offered to have Henry fetch some of her father’s celebrated champagne from the cellar. As a matter of fact Miss Izzy often made this offer after a few draughts of punch; she was reminded by Tina that Henry was away and the subject was dropped.
    Tina Archer in her statement said that she had no clue as to what might have woken the old lady and induced her to descend the stairs; it was right out of character in her own opinion. Miss Isabella Archer was a lady of independent mind but notoriously frightened of the dark, hence Tina’s presence at the house in the first place. As to her own recollection of the attack, Tina had so far managed to dredge very few of the details from her memory: the blow to the back of the head had—whether temporarily or permanently—expunged all the immediate circumstances from her consciousness. She had a vague idea that there had been a bright light, but even that was rather confused andmight be part of the blow she had suffered. Basically Tina Archer could remember nothing between going to bed in the tattered rose-patterned four-poster and waking up in hospital.
    Coralie’s lip trembled. She bowed her head and sipped at her long drink through a straw: both Coralie and Jemima were drinking some exotic mixture of fruit juice—alcohol-free—invented by Matthew the barman (not a relation of Claudette’s for once, being from Antigua). There was a wonderful soft breeze coming in from the sea and Coralie was dressed in a loose flowered cotton dress: but she looked hot and angry. “Tina schemed for everything all her life and now she’s got it. That’s what I wanted to warn you about that morning in the churchyard—don’t trust Tina Archer, I wanted to say. Now it’s too late: she’s got it all. When she was married to Greg I tried to like her, Jemima, honestly I did. Little Tina Archer, so cute and yet so clever, but always trouble—”
    “Joseph Archer feels rather the same way about her, I gather.” Was it her imagination or did Coralie’s face soften slightly at the sound of Joseph’s name?
    “Does he now? I’m glad. He fancied her too once upon a time, long ago. Well, she is quite pretty.” Their eyes met. “Not all that pretty, but if you like the type—” Jemima and Coralie both laughed. The fact was that Coralie Harrison was quite appealing—if you liked her type—but Tina Archer was ravishing by any standards. All the time Jemima was wondering exactly what it