Clementine had only unpleasant memories of crabbing in Smuggler’s Cove, of sitting on the rocks, bored to her core, while Jake and her father had tossed bits of bacon on string into the sea. The bucket of crustaceans had repulsed her, all climbing on top of one another in their futile attempts to escape. But the thought of spending dusk in the quiet seclusion of the cove, just the three of them, was very appealing. “Great idea,” she replied, sure that she could suffer a few crabs for the pleasure of spending time with Rafa.
Just as Clementine was enjoying the romance of their impending excursion, Marina leaned across the table. “Did I hear the word crabbing?”
“Yes,” Grey replied. “I thought I’d take Rafa out to sea. Show him Smuggler’s Cove and a few crabs.”
“Why don’t you take my ladies with you? There’s room in the boat.”
Clementine was scarcely able to conceal her horror. Astonished, she watched her stepmother sabotage her plan. “Mrs. Leppley, would you like to go out in Grey’s boat this evening?”
Veronica’s eyes opened wide. “I’d love to,” she said, clapping her small hands. “How delightful.”
“Did I hear the mention of a boat?” Pat interjected.
“You certainly did,” said Grey. “I’m taking Rafa crabbing.”
“Then count me in. Nothing like a bit of crabbing to work up an appetite for dinner. I was going to take a route march along the cliff, but this sounds much more fun.”
Clementine’s heart sank. Rafa didn’t seem at all put out. “I’ve never caught a crab before,” he said, at which the ladies roared with laughter, and Pat volunteered to show him how it was done. At least the other two bowed out. Grace declared that she would like to have a long, hot bath and read her book, while Jane said that she’d prefer to wander around the gardens, suffering as she did from seasickness. Clementine scowled at her stepmother, sure that she had kiboshed her evening on purpose. She can’t have him, so she doesn’t want me to have him, she thought crossly. Well, I have all summer. One setback is not going to deter me.
Marina offered to give Jane Meister a tour of the garden, which the old lady gratefully accepted, disappearing up to her bedroom to get a headscarf. Marina watched Rafa leave with Clementine, Grey, Mrs. Leppley, and Mrs. Pitman, and knew that she had infuriated her stepdaughter—but what alternative did she have? If the girl hadn’t learned by now that leaping into bed with a man was not the cleverest way to win him, she’d have to be forced to hold herself back. Marina knew men like Rafa—before meeting Grey she had had her fair share of love affairs. They were used to girls rolling over for them, sleeping with them, then they discarded them when they ceased to pose a challenge. But she couldn’t talk to her; Clementine thought she knew better. Marina had to watch it all from the sidelines, powerless to help.
Clementine sat between the two old ladies as they drove down to the quay. Mrs. Leppley smelled of roses and talcum powder. Mrs. Pitman was extremely hearty, holding forth about her own adventures on the sea. Rafa sat in the front with Grey, listening to her stories with interest. Clementine wondered whether he really was interested, or whether he was just being polite. If it was the latter, he was a very good actor.
They reached the harbor and Grey parked the car. Shelton was a quiet village, but this evening it had spilled out onto the waterfront. There were children eating ice creams and young women chatting beside their pushchairs. A few old people sat on the benches enjoying the sunshine and the view of the ocean. Seagulls swooped down to scavenge for food, brawling over scraps left behind by careless grownups and mischievous children. Craggy-faced sailors fussed about their boats while fishermen returned with their small hauls. Clementine cheered up in spite of herself and led the way to her father’s boat, tied securely to a bollard.
Mrs. Pitman was overjoyed to see the boat, aptly named Marina. It wasn’t anything special, but by the fruitiness of her voice and her ecstatic exclamations, one could have been mistaken for thinking she had just clapped eyes on the Lady Moura. “Oh, I say. What a stunning boat!” She put her hands on her sturdy hips and smiled appreciatively. “What luck with the weather and the sea’s calm. We’re in for a jolly ride.”
“It’s lovely,” Veronica agreed, tying her silk scarf at her throat. “I shall sit by the cabin, out of the wind.”
“If you want to stay out of the wind, Veronica, you’d better sit inside.”
“And miss all the fun? No, I’ll huddle. I’m good at making myself small.”