THE HOUSE AT SEA’S END

is saying. ‘If you know of any druids, that is.’ He laughs heartily.
    ‘We know one,’ says Nelson.
    They walk back to the car park in silence, each carrying a box of magazines. Nelson is thinking of Operation Lucifer, the sea in flames. There is nothing in the dull parish newsletters to suggest anything so terrifying or so memorable. According to the
Broughton and Rockham Parish News
the war years had been one long round of dances and rabbit shows (Flesh and Fur Fancy: Beat the Nazis by eating coney pie). But something had happened in this quiet village and Archie’s last word had been ‘Lucifer’. He really must have a good look through Hugh Anselm’s papers.
    Judy, for no reason at all, is thinking about Cathbad and yew trees.
    They have come in Judy’s car because Nelson’s is in for its MOT. Judy, in the face of much teasing, drives a four-by-four, a flashy jeep with wheels like a tractor. As Nelson climbs into the passenger seat, he says, ‘This car’s too big for you.’
    ‘It suits me fine.’
    ‘What does Darren drive?’
    ‘A Ford Ka.’
    Nelson grunts as if his worst fears have been confirmed.
    They drive along the coast road, Nelson trying not to tell Judy when to change gear (in fact, she’s a far better driver than he is).
    ‘Johnson!’
    ‘What?’ Judy brakes.
    ‘Let’s go to Sheringham. Have a look at this listening post thing.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I don’t know. I just want to have a look at it.’
    As Judy does a U-turn she considers that the boss is getting really hung up on this war business. It’s true that whoever killed Archie Whitcliffe and Hugh Anselm (not to mention Dieter Eckhart) probably knew about Operation Lucifer but, in Judy’s personal opinion, the truth must lie closer to home and to the present day. Don’t overcomplicate; that’s what Nelson himself usually says.
    Beeston Bump turns out to be a long walk. A stunning one too, if you like that sort of thing, which Nelson doesn’t. But Judy enjoys striding over the short, aromatic grass, the wide blue sky above and the sea thundering away below. It’s a long haul, though, and they’re both panting by the time they reach the top. The view, as Father Tom promised, is spectacular. The flat plains of Norfolk lie behind them, they can even see the church tower at Broughton and Sea’s End House perched on the end of its promontory. In front of them is the sea, calm and clear.
    All that remains of the listening post is an octagonal concrete base. Hard to imagine a building here, on this exposed point. A tower, Stella Hastings had said. Nelson looks out over the sea, sparkling innocently in the sun. Howcrowded it must have been seventy years ago – German E-boats, tankers stuffed full of petrol ready to ignite, Captain Hastings and his crew patrolling in their little dinghy. And, of course, the six Germans who died at Broughton Sea’s End. What happened to their boat, he wonders. Father Tom had shown them a map of the East Norfolk coast. It was studded with little crosses. ‘What are these?’ Nelson had asked. ‘Shipwrecks,’ answered Father Tom. ‘The coast is full of them. It’s treacherous, this coastline, lots of dangerous rocks, shallow sandbanks. That’s why we had the sea light at Broughton. You can’t land a boat on some beaches because of all the submerged wrecks.’ So, even under the sea, it’s crowded.
    His phone rings. Ruth.
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘I think I’ve come up with something.’ She sounds excited. ‘Can you come over?’
    Nelson glances at Judy who is gazing rather dreamily out to sea. Probably thinking about her fiancé.
    ‘Okay. I’ve got Johnson with me. We’ll be over in half an hour.’
    Ruth meets them at the door. To Nelson’s secret delight, she’s holding Kate.
    ‘Hi, baby,’ says Judy. ‘Hey, she smiled at me!’
    That was at me, thinks Nelson.
    Ruth takes them into her sitting room which is as untidy as ever and where, now, Kate’s toys and blankets and baby gym jostle for space with Ruth’s books and papers and old coffee cups. Spread out on the table are a selection of murdermysteries. Skulls, daggers and spectral hounds grin up at them.
    ‘I bought them from Amazon,’ says Ruth. ‘They’re the books on Archie’s list. The ones he left to Maria.’
    ‘Why did you buy them?’ asks Nelson, watching surreptitiously as Kate rolls on the floor under her baby gym. Shouldn’t she be crawling by now? He can’t remember any of the milestones though