The confession was the trigger. Lily could not suppress her body’s reaction any longer. She began to shake. After an injudicious exclamation of dismay, Joe tightened his hold on her and began to mutter encouraging formulae into her ear. Lily thought she heard: ‘Brace up! Worse things happen at sea. You’re quite all right, you know.’
‘You saw who she was?’ Lily mumbled when she could stop her teeth from rattling together.
He nodded. ‘Hard to believe what I saw. Red hair … face of an imp … Not the girl either of us was expecting. When you’ve calmed down, perhaps you’ll confirm my awful suspicions.’ He looked about him swiftly and murmured, ‘A corpse dancing? Did we conjure it up? We weren’t both hallucinating, I suppose?’
‘No. That was the second daughter. But you let her get away.’
He rolled his eyes in disbelief. ‘Next time, then, I’ll chase after Her Imperious Haughtiness and let you drop,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Now, if that’s enough excitement for one day, I could do with a cup of tea. Joe Lyons Corner House suit you? Come on. I think we’d better get our story straight before we report back to the Commissioner.’
Lily stuck out her legs and wiggled her shoeless toes.
Joe groaned. ‘Piggy back, then. I’ll have to carry you. And just hope the man from the Mirror isn’t rushing here, camera in hand, attracted by a telephone call from the police box at the other end of the bridge. Botched suicide plunge. Young woman flees scene in arms of knight-errant vicar. It wouldn’t do either of us any good.’
‘No need for heroics, sir. Strong feet. I can get as far as the nearest taxi stand.’
Chapter Forty
Cherbourg, the Hirondelle, Friday