"That clock's always right,"
the man said. "It doesn't
stand for phoney alibis."
|"The tide ...washed against the piles of the Palace pier."|
|"... he got down onto the beach where he was more alone, the dry|
seaweed left by last winter's gales cracking under his shoes."
"He came up the parade cautiously, from the Hove end, from the
glass shelter where Hale's body had been set ..."
|"You could be saved between the stirrup and the ground ..."|
|"... to the little covered arcade where the cheap shops stood|
between the sea and the stone wall, selling Brighton rock."
|"They were drinking cocktails|
[at] the Grand ..."
It was windy this time too, though not so extremely. The waves looked more under control though they had thrown the pebbles a good distance up the shore just before our arrival on Monday. On Tuesday evening we met Hyder, Lea, David and Margaret in the foyer of The Grand, and once again had a very congenial supper with them at the Café Rouge in the Lanes where I'm afraid our merriment may have disturbed some of the other diners. On Thursday I treated myself to a plate of fish and chips elegantly presented in the glasshouse on the pier, the Palm Court (with real palms).