Gold By Gemini

CHAPTER XVII

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I PICKED up courage while we dressed. 'Is this your day?'

Janie thought for a couple of centuries. 'No, thank you.'

I cheered up at that. V 'I have a car coming. Nine o'clock.'

', 'I've cancelled it,' she said innocently. 'We don't want Lovejoy getting lost, do we?'

Of course we didn't, I assured her.

'Come on, then,' I said. 'Get your knickers on and we'll look around.'

'Cheek.'

We walked down to the shore. The river runs into a curved stony beach, only about a hundred yards across. The stones are a lovely blue-grey colour. Steep jagged rocks rise suddenly to form rather dour headlands. In the distance towards Douglas we could see the gaggle of chalets forming a holiday camp. I'd seen the sign for it during the drive along the cliff road.

'How noisy.' It was a racket, stones clacking and shuffling and the sea hissing between.

We gazed inland. The shale-floored inlet only ran about two hundred yards back from the water before it narrowed into a dark mountainous cleft filled by forest. A wooden bridge spanned the river there, presumably for us visitors to stroll across and up the steep hillside. Well, whatever turns you on, I thought. Then it occurred to me: what if it was Bexon's favourite walk? After all, he had to have some reason for coming this far out of town. Bushes and gorse everywhere. It would be a climb more than a stroll.

We walked over and explored the hillside. The footpath divided about a hundred feet from the bridge, one branch running inland along the glen floor to follow the river. The other climbed precipitously on planked steps round the headland. Janie chose left, so we followed that.

'Look. Palm trees.'

I was going to scoff, but they were. The valley bulged soon into a level, densely wooded swamp for about a quarter of a mile as far as I could tell. Somebody years ago had built tall little islands among the marsh, creating lagoons complete with palms.

Here and there we could find pieces of rotten trellis among the dense foliage. Once we came upon a large ruined hut by the water. There were at least three decorative wooden bridges.

'Betty Springer said they used to have dances along here.'

I wasn't interested. No engineering works, and I wanted evidence. The valley narrowed again a little way on. The trees crowded closer and the undergrowth closed in on our riverside path. The water ran faster as the ground began to rise. I didn't see any point going on. Ahead, an enormous viaduct crossed the valley. The beck coursed swiftly beneath, gurgling noisily. It looked deep and fast. We headed back past the lagoons and took the ascending fork from the bridge, talking about Bexon. The path was only wide enough for one at a time. I told her over my shoulder how I'd got the taxi-driver to find the place.

'Are you sure this is where he stayed?'

'Betty remembered him.'

Janie really found it first, a brick kiln set in the hillside. Overgrown, like the rest, but reassuring.

'Look how flat the path is here.' She pointed out the iron rails set in the ground. The path ran on the contour line seawards from the kiln.

'That's odd. It looks dead level.' The flat path was wider now than any other on the hills.

'For hauling bricks?' she suggested.

'Maybe.'

It was a little railway. We traced it inland. It ended in a hillside glade. There we found a ruined station, wooden, collapsed into the forest down the steep slope. We walked back, almost hurrying now. A railway means an engineer. Maybe Bexon worked on it, probably a scenic run through the woods to view the sea from the headland or something. Of course, I thought. There'd be a junction further inland with the road. And on the road there was still a working steam railway. Hence Bexon's choice of Groundle Glen. It's where his railway ran.

I became excited. We followed the rails seawards. Some parts were quite overlain by small landfalls but at least you could see where the tracks ran from the shape of the incised hillside. We had difficulty getting past where sections had slid down into the valley but managed it by climbing upwards round the gap - using gorse bushes to cling to. We eventually emerged round the cliff's shoulder in full view of the sea. Still the tracks ran on, high round the headland. A tiny brick hut lay in ruins at one point near the track. Curiously, a fractured water-tap still ran a trickle of its own down the cliff face. Over the years it had created its own little watercourse.

The railway finished abruptly at a precipitous inlet, narrow and frighteningly sheer.

'Dear God.'

At the bottom the sea had been dammed by a sort of stone barrier set with iron palings, now rusted. It was lapped heavily by the sea. I didn't like the look of it at all.

Nor did Janie. I'm not a nervy sort but it was all a bit too Gothic.

'It's creepy,' she said, shuddering.

'Why dam it off?' I asked her. 'Look across.'

There seemed to be a sort of metal cage set in the rock face. It was easily big enough to contain a man. Anyone in it could scan the entire inlet. But why would anyone climb into it? A wave larger than before rushed in and lashed over the rusty barrier. If Bexon had anything to do with building that he really was round the bend. There seemed no sun down there though the day was bright elsewhere. Some places are best avoided.

This was one.

'Come on.'

We hurried home, scrambling hurriedly along the railway track until we met the path.

From there we took our time.

'It was ugly, Lovejoy,' Janie said.

She invited Betty Stringer over for coffee, a cunning move. We described our walk. I just happened to have the map out, quite casual.

'Your friend used to go over there,' she said brightly. 'Every day, practically. He used to get so tired. Always rested on the bridge.'

'Bexon?'

'Yes. He spent a lot of time walking along the glen.'

'Is it an old railway?'

'Yes. For people to see the seals.'

'Seals?' I put my cup down. 'Seals?'

'You didn't get that far, I suppose.' She traced our map with her finger. 'Follow the tracks and you come to where they kept the sea lions. You watched them being fed by their keeper. He threw them fish, things like that, but that was years ago. It's a sort of inlet.'

Both Janie and I were relieved. We avoided each other's eyes. We'd thought of all sorts.

'Did, er… Bexon say anything about it?' I asked, trying to smile in case the answer was not too happy.

'Oh yes. He kept on about it all the time. He used to help mend it years ago,' she said brightly.

He would. Not a happy answer at all. If that's where he spent his time, was it where he'd remember something best?

'Why the hell didn't he just stick to railways?' I asked Janie when Betty had gone. 'That seal pen's like something in a Dracula picture.'

'He mentioned other places.'

'So he did!' I said, brightening. 'So he did.'

'Good morrow, friends!' It was Algernon, wearing a deerstalker and tweeds. 'All ready to go searching?'

'Let's go.'