Monday, 7th September 1925.

“Race you to the raft?” Claire asked, wading into the milk-warm waters of the Mediterranean.

Veronica looked up from where she sat upon the beach towel in the shade of their largest sunshade. She groaned. “You’ll beat me easily, dearest. You’re like a dolphin.”

Claire gave her a tender smile. “I know, darling. I shouldn’t tease.”

She stood as naked as the day she was born, arms akimbo and legs apart in the gentle waves lapping the private beach. Her skin gleamed with banana oil. Although autumn drew near, the sun’s strength still commanded respect. The water was so clear she could look down and see her feet on the sandy bottom.

“I don’t mind,” Veronica said, standing and stretching. “You go ahead. I’ll follow.”

“You’re on!”

Claire turned and waded away from the beach. The morning light shone off the sea with an intensity that made her squint. The water shaded from turquoise close by the shore to a deep lapis lazuli further out.

Plunging forward into the low waves, she set off for the diving raft moored in their cove, her arms twirling in a powerful crawl. The water flowed sensuously over her skin. Oh, this feels divine. It’s good to be alive!

In no time, she reached the diving platform moored fifty yards out in the sheltered waters of their cove. She climbed the ladder, swung around, sat on the top step between the railings, and waited for Veronica.

She watched her lover toss her sunglasses onto the pile of their clothing and then wade gingerly into the water. The waves slopped against her legs, rising as she waded deeper until the water reached her belly.

Claire felt a warm glow. Oh, those scars and the stretch marks! Ronnie’s marked for life because of our adventures—and bearing Baby John. We won’t trade a moment of it all.

Veronica began to swim out to the platform using a steady breaststroke. Claire waved encouragement. Veronica took her time, her head bobbing above the small waves. She finally reached the steps, grasped the railing, and sighed with relief.

“Dear God, I wish I’d thought of swimming earlier than this. The sea really takes the weight off my bones. I’m still out of condition after my pregnancy.”

Claire stroked her cheek. “I can only imagine, poor darling. Take as long as you like to do anything. There’s no rush.”

Veronica climbed onto the platform and sat beside her, dangling her legs in the water. Claire edged over and teased Veronica’s wet blonde locks from her brow. Veronica took hold of her hand and kissed the palm. They put their arms around each other’s waist and raised their faces to the sun, enjoying the moment of peace in the morning sunlight.

A terrifying scream split the air, waking echoes between the two rocky headlands encompassing their cove. Seabirds took flight from the cliffs, their cries merging with the scream until it cut off with a distant sickening thud.

Claire’s heart pounded in her chest. She gripped the edge of the platform and stared around. “What in the name of God was that?”

Veronica pointed a shaking finger across the cove toward the eastern headland. “A man fell off the cliff over there!”

Claire stood and peered across the water. “I see something. Oh, God! It looks like a body.”

Jagged rocks lined the edge of the shore beneath the cliff. Claire dove off the platform and swam as fast as she could to where the rough stones emerged from the fawn-coloured sand. Her feet touched the bottom, and she waded out of the water.

Picking her way gingerly over the rocks towards the body, she winced as her bare feet found sharp bits of stone. Eventually, she reached the spread-eagled figure.

He lay face up in a heap of seaweed-covered rocks, arms spread wide, trousers and underpants bunched around his ankles. His flabby circumcised penis poked up from his shaved scrotum in a grotesquely coquettish fashion.

A black toupee sat on the rocks nearby like an upended bird’s nest, the maker’s label a pale yellow rectangle sewn neatly in the centre of the mesh. The sunburned skin on the man’s bare scalp shone in the morning sunlight.

After a moment’s mental adjustment, Claire jumped as she recognised the chubby features and wet brown eyes staring at infinity. She shouted across the water to Veronica. “It’s Solly Myers!”

“The movie mogul we met at the Villa Martine? Is he dead?”

A slow trickle of blood emerged from the corner of the corpse’s mouth and ran down the flabby cheek. Swallowing her gorge, Claire reached down and felt for a pulse, noticing an incongruous pleasant herbal fragrance that hung about him, the scent sweet and distinct over the rank smell of the seaweed.

“Yes. Definitely. He’s not a pretty sight. You’d better come ashore, darling. We need to dress and then call the police.”

Veronica began swimming back to shore. Claire picked her way back over the rocks and waited by their piled clothes until Veronica reached the beach.

Claire was struck yet again by the beauty Veronica unconsciously displayed. She forced her mind back to the present. “I recognise him. It’s definitely Solly Myers.”

Veronica swept water out of her hair with both hands. “What on Earth do you think he was doing up there on our cliff?”

“Given that he’s practically naked from the waist down and has what’s left of an erection…” Claire gestured between them with a wry expression.

Veronica covered her breasts and crotch, the reaction instinctive. “The dirty devil!”

“Quite. We need to get back to the villa and call the police.” She glanced back and shuddered. “He fetched up some distance from the foot of the cliff. Unless Solly Myers took a good run to jump over the edge, I have the horrible feeling he was murdered.”