10

"Do you fancy a short walk?" I asked once we left the train at Francistown, and Sandra nodded readily.

"We've been sitting for so long. Why not?" She replied. "Where do you want to go?"

"I want you to see one of the most astonishing pieces of construction in Britain," I answered, "and supposedly one of the eeriest places in all of Wales."

"Do you think it's harmless?" she asked.

"I don't see why not!" I answered. "She wasn't annoyed with you, was she?"

"Who?"

"The woman at the window!"

"What window?"

"One of the windows of the castle! You haven't been perusing the rags, have you?"

"No," she said.

We crossed a walkway over the railway line and another over the main road. "It's inconceivable!" She gasped. "What is it?

"Weaver Castle," I replied. "Have you never been informed of it?"

"I can't say I have," she answered. "and I am sure if I had seen a photograph of this place, I would have recollected."

"I should buy some picture postcards before we leave," I said. "They would make a wonderful add-on to my next book."

"What book?" she asked, surprised.

"The one I am planning to write about is the Tina Davis case," I said. "Don't forget the publisher offered me a three-book deal, with an option for another three."

"I hope you paint me in a better light than you did in the first one," she said. "Anyway, I thought you might wait and see whether you can solve this horrible crime."

"Don't worry about that," I surprised her again. "I will write down the outcome, whatever happens!"

"Truly?"

"Of course, why not."

"Do you think you have a chance to uncover what took place?" she asked.

"At the moment, I couldn't say one way or the other," he said. "And for the next couple of hours, it doesn't matter in the least. We're visitors now, Sandra, and outsiders in an unfamiliar land, too. But if we blunder around and gape and carry on like astounded holidaymakers, nobody will become aware of us at all."

I bought the picture postcards on our way out.

"Life as a sightseer suits us well," I said as we departed Weaver Castle.

"I haven't seen you so unperturbed in quite a while," she responded.

"I am highly skilled at lurching around and rubbernecking," I replied, "and at my age, performing being bewildered isn't much of a stretch. But, talking about stretches, I was about to ask whether you'd mind extending our little sightseeing vacation into an overnight affair."

"Not at all, if you are sure," Sandra blushed, "especially if there's a chance of a nice dinner along the way."

"Don't worry," I said. "We are very close to the town of Rankin, and without appearing presumptuous, I have booked us a room for the night."

Thankfully she smiled, and we went off to find a taxi.

After a short and enjoyable journey, we found ourselves at the base of an impressive rock configuration of limestone. I spoke for the first time in some minutes. "We'll walk from here, thank you, cabbie, though we'll pay your normal fare to the hotel," I said, and soon, we were walking along a slowly rising road.

"How far is it to the hotel?" Sandra asked.

"Just a bit of a ramble," I replied.

"Wouldn't you preferred to have had the taxi not drop us off closer to the hotel?" Sandra inquired, panting slightly

"I think you'll enjoy the view at the top," I responded.

"This is a big rock!" She said, and I smiled.

"Its friend is even larger, if not more rugged," I said.

"We haven't got to climb both of these?" Sandra asked, struggling to breathe.

"No, just the one", I replied. "If you can make it," I added.

"I'll be all right," she said, stalling for a moment before we resumed.

Soon the slope became gentler and levelled off. We walked for a few more minutes, and then I could see beyond the crest of what we had just climbed and onto the horizon.

"It's stunning!" Sandra exclaimed.

"You're standing on Little Mero, Sandra," I said. "That's the Great Mero over there, and then near the far end of that lovely, curved beach is our destination, the Charles Hotel!"

We strolled down the far side of the Little Mero and continued along a perfectly maintained narrow strip of sand separating the Irish Sea from an array of hotels, restaurants, and boutiques.

"Let's check-in, sample the local cuisine, and do some more blundering and goggling," I suggested.

At that point, looking at Sandra, any suggestion, including a hot meal, would have been welcome. But we needn't have worried. The food was excellent, and the evening walks went splendidly.

The panorama was stunning, and we were back in our room before the sun had gone down.

"Tomorrow, we'll catch the morning train for Haliheved," I said. "There will be more wonderous sights on the way, which will serve as meagre compensation, to be sure. But the heart of our mission is so dark!"

"Don't forget we must pick up some more picture postcards?" I said

"Thanks for the prompt," Sandra responded, "and how romantic of you."

She unknotted my tie and reined me in, her mouth soft on mine.  Still kissing me, she smoothed the jacket from my shoulders, unbuttoned my shirt and parted it.  Her hands skimmed over my chest, around my back, and across my stomach.

She knelt and tugged at my belt.

I closed my eyes and coiled my fingers in her hair.

After a few moments I pulled away gently, and knelt to face her, lifting her dress.  Freed from it, she threw back her head and shook her hair.  I wanted to know her completely. I kissed her throat, her breasts, her stomach; inhale her scent, feel the firm flesh stretching smooth and tuat beneath my hands, her soft skin on my tongue.

Later she guided me on to the bed and settled herself above me.  The only light was cast by a streetlamp on the other side of the from the hotel.  Shadows rippled all around us and when I opened my mouth to say something, Sandra put a finger to my lips.