After lunch George set up a treasure hunt for the young by drawing trails into the sand with a shell, then burying a bag full of boiled sweets at the very end of one trail. There were many red herrings and it took him half an hour to complete for the lines he drew weaved around rocks, into caves and for long distances across the beach. Finally Johnnie and Jane set off with the help of Eddie, Maddie and Alice. Their laughter and squeals of delight resounded across the bay, carried on the wind with the cries of gulls and the roar of waves. The grownups drank cider, smoked and talked so that George and Rita were able to sneak over the rocks and across the strip of sand to their secret cave without being noticed.
It was warm and damp inside and quiet out of the wind. He swung her around and kissed her. ‘Careful, they might find us,’ she said, pulling away.
‘Not in here they won’t. Believe me, it’ll take them hours to find the treasure.’ He grinned at her triumphantly and kissed her again. He smelt of smoke and tasted of cider. His hands ran over the skirt of her dress, against her thighs and over her bottom and she felt a warm wave of arousal wash over her. ‘They can leave us here and we can walk back to your house later,’ he mumbled, burying his face in her neck and tasting the salt on her skin. But to her dismay, Rita remembered her grandmother.
‘I have to go to Megagran’s for tea,’ she said with a heavy sigh.
‘Can’t you go tomorrow?’
‘You know Megagran.’
He pulled away and frowned impatiently. ‘There’s no one like Mrs Megalith to dampen one’s ardour.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, running her fingers through his hair.
‘Well, no point wasting time,’ and he bent his head to kiss her again.
Chapter 4
‘Ah, Rita,’ said Mrs Megalith as Rita appeared through the arch in the garden wall. ‘You can help me with these crystals.’ She picked up a large amethyst and handed it to her granddaughter. ‘Careful, it’s heavy. Now, that one goes in the drawing room, on the table as you go in, you’ll see the gap. It’s my favourite so don’t drop it.’
Rita obediently put it in its place then helped with the others. There were many, of every shape and colour, and Mrs Megalith took great pleasure in telling her the properties of each as they placed them all over the house. ‘Just feel the energy in them now they’ve soaked up the elements. Nothing like a good clean.’ She stood on the terrace, clasped a large blue sodalite to her bosom and closed her eyes. She breathed deeply while Rita stood quietly, waiting for this moment of spiritual ecstasy to end. A ginger cat slipped sinuously between Mrs Megalith’s ankles, rubbing his fur on her thick stockings. Rita picked it up and held it against her until her grandmother finally opened her eyes. ‘Magical, simply magical,’ she breathed enthusiastically. ‘Nature never ceases to delight one.’
Rita followed her into the kitchen and was given a tumbler of elderflower cordial and a biscuit. At that moment the ginger cat sprang out of her arms. A couple of black ones dashed out from under the kitchen table and three or four jumped off the windowsills and disappeared outside in pursuit of something beyond the senses of human beings.
‘Cats never cease to delight one either,’ said Mrs Megalith, watching the last, very fat cat amble lazily through the door. ‘I seem to attract them. Every time I count I have more than the time before. God only knows where they all come from.’
‘Cats are most unaffectionate creatures,’ said Rita, thinking of Mildred and how much she loved to be petted.
‘There you’re quite mistaken, my dear. They obviously sense that you don’t like them.’
Mrs Megalith was wrong for Rita loved all animals, even antisocial cats but she knew better than to contradict her grandmother. Biting her tongue, she followed her outside again and took a seat at the table on the terrace. The garden looked splendid, full of colour and the scent of spring.
‘You know a damned fox had a go at my Aylesburies last night. The wind blew the lamp out. What a wind there was last night! I found feathers all over the place. Fortunately my ducks escaped with little more than a fright. One’s missing but I suspect she’s sitting on her eggs. So Rita,’ she said, fixing her granddaughter with an intense stare. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m happy, Grandma,’ she replied, averting her eyes, sure that her grandmother could see her innermost thoughts.
‘You look well, if slightly apprehensive. What’s on your mind?’
‘Nothing. I’m just happy to have George back.’
‘And how is he?’ she asked. Rita wondered where her questions were leading.