Read To Perish in Penzance for Free Online Page B

favorite entertainment, I confess. I’ve always preferred brass. Alan, who is something of a musical snob, tells me my taste is low, but given a choice between Schubert and Sousa, I’ll choose the marches anytime.
    Of course, I didn’t say so to Mr. Boleigh when we were saying good night. I mouthed polite insincerities, certain that he was paying no attention, anyway. His eyes were on Lexa, for which I couldn’t say I blamed him.
    â€œYou sounded,” said my loving spouse when the three of us were tucked into our car, “exactly like a little girl at a birthday party. ‘Thank-you-very-much-I-had-a-lovely-time.’”
    â€œI was well brought up,” I said, and yawned. Lexa said nothing.
    A dispirited drizzle began before we reached our hotel.
    I had wanted, next day, to go to Mousehole, but the good weather had deserted us. We woke to pouring rain, with a fierce wind that blew the rain into horizontal sheets and raised monumental waves. We sat sipping coffee at a window table in the dining room and watched the high tide crashing over the seawall.
    â€œSo much for getting away from the weather.”
    â€œIt’s the hurricane,” said Alan, turning a page of his newspaper.
    â€œA
hurricane?
” My voice rose to a squeak and I pushed back my chair. “Alan, if a hurricane’s coming, what are we doing here? Hadn’t we better go somewhere inland?”
    â€œNot our hurricane, love.” He tapped the newspaper. “The backlash of South Carolina’s. American coastal weather usually reaches Penzance a few days later. Gail, I believe this one is named. Appropriate.”
    â€œOh.” I collected myself and poured some more coffee. “So when is this particular gale going to blow itself out?”
    â€œLate tonight, probably. We’ll plan on Mousehole tomorrow, shall we?”
    â€œIt isn’t much fun walking around in the rain,” I said doubtfully.
    â€œIt won’t be raining. I can virtually guarantee it, and not just because
The Times
says so. Don’t forget, I spent a fair part of my life in Cornwall. I know how these things behave.”
    â€œOf course you do. Sorry. Alan, should we ask Lexa to go to Mousehole with us, or do you think she’s tired of our company? She didn’t have a good time last night.”
    He shook his head. “No, but I don’t think that had anything to do with us. There’s something wrong with that girl, more than simply her mother’s illness. I can’t put my finger on it.”
    â€œI had an awful thought last night.” I lowered my voice. “You don’t think her mother has a problem with drugs, do you?”
    â€œOnly legal ones. They’re certainly bad enough, the chemotherapy drugs, nearly worse than the disease, but they don’t make a person look the way cocaine does, or heroin, or any of the street drugs.”
    He looked bleak, and I was sorry I’d raised the subject. “Well, you’d know. I think I’ll try to get Mrs. Crosby talking today, since we’ll all have to stay in the hotel. Maybe I can find out what’s wrong with both of them. Now, don’t look at me that way. It isn’t prying! I’m concerned.”
    â€œI know you are, love, but be careful how you go. They’re friendly enough, those two, but they value their privacy, all the same.”
    â€œI’ll try not to go stomping in with both feet, then.” I looked out the window. The storm was getting worse. “But it’s a long day ahead, and everyone will be bored. If I can’t get her to talk at all, I’m losing my touch.”
    As it turned out, I didn’t get the chance. I saw neither Lexa nor her mother all day. And by the next day it was too late.

6
    T HE RAIN abated gradually as the day passed, but the wind and waves increased. Alan and I sat in the sun lounge (woefully misnamed on such a day) and watched the violent motion of