“Miss Philpot has a big collection of fossil fish at her home,” Mary put in “People come and look all the time, don’t they, Miss Elizabeth?” “Really? Fascinating,” Colonel Birch murmured “I shall be sure to visit as well and see your fish.” He was careful, so I could never accuse him of rudeness, but his tone bore a trace of sarcasm He preferred the bold ichthyosaurus to the quiet fish But then, most do They do not understand that the clear shape and texture of a fish, with its overlapping scales, its dimpled skin, and its shapely fins, all make up a specimen of great beauty—beautiful because it is plain and definite With his gleaming buttons and thrusting hair, Colonel Birch could never comprehend such subtlety “You’d best move along,” I snapped, “else the tide will catch us out before we reach Seatown Mary, if you don’t stop talking you’ll never find a brittle star for your collector.” Mary scowled, but I was done tolerating Colonel Birch I turned and strode towards Seatown, blind to any fossils underfoot Colonel Birch was to stay for several weeks to build up his collection, taking rooms in Charmouth but coming to Lyme daily His claim on Mary’s time was sudden and absolute She went out with him every day To start with I accompanied them, for even if Mary didn’t, I worried what the town would think When we three were together I tried to find the comfortable rhythm I had when I was out only with Mary, where we each concentrated on our own hunting and yet felt the reassuring presence of a companion close by That rhythm was ruined by Colonel Birch, who liked to remain with Mary and talk It is a testament to her hunting skills that she was able to find anything at all that summer with him babbling at her side Yet she toler-?flated him More than tolerated—she doted on him There was no place for me on the beach with them I might as well have been an empty crab shell I went out three times with them, and that was enough For Colonel Birch was a fraud To be accurate, I should say, Lieutenant Colonel Birch was a fraud That was one of his many petty ruses—leaving off the “Lieutenant” to promote himself higher than he was Nor did he offer up that he was long retired from the Life Guards, though anyone who knew a bit about them could see he wore the old uniform of long coat and leather breeches rather than the shorter coat and blue-grey pantaloons of the current soldiers He was happy to bask in the Life Guards’ glory at Waterloo, without having taken part Worse, I discovered from those three days on the beach with him that he