...whether you want it or not. Cliff Davenport, salt and pepper marine-biologist and proud own of an aquiline nose, has turned up in Barmouth following the disappearance of his nephew Ian Wright in mysterious circumstances. He stays with Mrs Jones, a Welsh land-lady. (Or lland-llady):
Mrs Jones: Mr Davenport!
Cliff: Please Mrs Jones, you can call me Cliff.
Mrs Jones: And you must call me "Mum".
Mrs Jones: Usual room Cliff? I'm afraid you've caught me at my busy time.
Cliff: I'm not here to relax I'm afraid, Mum. I'm here on grim business. I'm trying to locate my nephew Ian and his girlfriend Julie. Though I know in my heart they're dead. I've a presentiment of doom. I dont know how, I just know: I know they're both date.
Mrs Jones: Oh dear. And I've got some other bad news for you...you'll have to share a dining table.
Cliff: Christ! With whom?
Mrs Jones: Pat Benson, a petite brunette fifteen years your junior. She has pert, firm breasts and is recently divorced from her husband, a rotter.
Cliff: I see...well I suppose if I must I must.