wandered round the amusement arcades and put pennies in the laughing policeman and the haunted house and turned little handles at furious speed to beat each other at horse racing.
At the end of the afternoon, they were leaning over the rail on the sun deck watching a steamer come alongside. The sailors threw the ropes, the men on the pier secured them, the gangplanks were run out and the passengers streamed ashore from their day trip to Herne Bay. Idly watching the crowds, one figure caught Scarlett’s attention. Her heart seemed to turn over in her chest. That hairstyle, those shoulders, that walk—
‘Mum!’ she cried out, starting towards the steps that led down to the lower deck, pushing people out of her way. ‘Mum, wait—!’
Then she stopped short. Of course it wasn’t her mother. Her mother was—
The whole happy day came crashing down around her. Her mother was dead. She would never see her again, never hear her voice or feel her arms around her. She was gone. Scarlett collapsed onto the step and wept, her grief all the more bitter for having been almost carefree only a few moments ago.
‘Scarlett? Scarlett, what’s the matter, what is it?’
Scarlett just shook her head and cried all the harder. How could Jonathan understand? The pain of it tore at her.
An arm came round her shoulder.
‘What is it? Was that your mother? We can catch up with her, Scarlett. We can find her. It’s not too late. Come on, I’ll help you.’
‘No, no—’ Scarlett tried to shake him off. ‘It’s not…her. She…she died. On C-Coronation day.’
‘Oh, Scarlett…’ his shocked voice was close to her ear. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He didn’t tell her to stop crying. Instead she felt his other arm go round her and gently pull her towards him. Helplessly she sobbed on his shoulder while he patted her back and hordes of happy holiday-makers swirled past them.
At last she subsided into sniffs and hiccups. She pulled away from him.
‘I’m s-sorry.’
‘It’s all right.’
‘I’ve spoilt your day.’
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
‘No, you haven’t. It’s been a super day. Look…er… p’raps you’d like to go home now?’
Home. Home was the Red Lion. Scarlett shook her head.
‘What, then?’
She didn’t know. She couldn’t stay here on the pier, not now, but neither did she want to go back to the Trafalgar.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Come on.’
Jonathan stood up and held out his hand. Scarlett let him pull her to her feet. Together they made their way towards the tram station.
CHAPTER SIX
‘I ALWAYS thought there was something a bit dodgy about him,’ Jonathan’s mother said as she sat over her breakfast tea.
‘There’s always going to be something wrong, ain’t there?’ his father said. ‘Stands to reason. Man his age, if he ain’t got a place of his own, there’s a reason why.’
He wiped the last of the fried egg from his plate with the last of the fried bread and sat back with a sigh of contentment.
‘That was first class, Jonny lad. Done to perfection. You ain’t got any more out there, have you?’
‘Nope, but there’s toast coming up,’ Jonathan called from the kitchen.
He came into the living room with the toast rack and placed it on the table in front of his parents. The big main room of the flat had three large windows looking out over the estuary. Morning light flooded in to show off the ornate dining table and chairs, the large new three piece suite, the glass-fronted cabinet filled with china ornaments, and the modern electrical goods. There was a television in pride of place in front of the suite, its purple screen dead now as programmes didn’t begin till the evening, a large wireless on the sideboard, tuned to the Light Programme, and a record player on a side table with a huge pile of dance band records stacked beside it.
Jonathan’s mother helped herself to toast and spread large dollops of butter and marmalade.
‘Well, yes,
At the end of the afternoon, they were leaning over the rail on the sun deck watching a steamer come alongside. The sailors threw the ropes, the men on the pier secured them, the gangplanks were run out and the passengers streamed ashore from their day trip to Herne Bay. Idly watching the crowds, one figure caught Scarlett’s attention. Her heart seemed to turn over in her chest. That hairstyle, those shoulders, that walk—
‘Mum!’ she cried out, starting towards the steps that led down to the lower deck, pushing people out of her way. ‘Mum, wait—!’
Then she stopped short. Of course it wasn’t her mother. Her mother was—
The whole happy day came crashing down around her. Her mother was dead. She would never see her again, never hear her voice or feel her arms around her. She was gone. Scarlett collapsed onto the step and wept, her grief all the more bitter for having been almost carefree only a few moments ago.
‘Scarlett? Scarlett, what’s the matter, what is it?’
Scarlett just shook her head and cried all the harder. How could Jonathan understand? The pain of it tore at her.
An arm came round her shoulder.
‘What is it? Was that your mother? We can catch up with her, Scarlett. We can find her. It’s not too late. Come on, I’ll help you.’
‘No, no—’ Scarlett tried to shake him off. ‘It’s not…her. She…she died. On C-Coronation day.’
‘Oh, Scarlett…’ his shocked voice was close to her ear. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He didn’t tell her to stop crying. Instead she felt his other arm go round her and gently pull her towards him. Helplessly she sobbed on his shoulder while he patted her back and hordes of happy holiday-makers swirled past them.
At last she subsided into sniffs and hiccups. She pulled away from him.
‘I’m s-sorry.’
‘It’s all right.’
‘I’ve spoilt your day.’
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.
‘No, you haven’t. It’s been a super day. Look…er… p’raps you’d like to go home now?’
Home. Home was the Red Lion. Scarlett shook her head.
‘What, then?’
She didn’t know. She couldn’t stay here on the pier, not now, but neither did she want to go back to the Trafalgar.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Come on.’
Jonathan stood up and held out his hand. Scarlett let him pull her to her feet. Together they made their way towards the tram station.
CHAPTER SIX
‘I ALWAYS thought there was something a bit dodgy about him,’ Jonathan’s mother said as she sat over her breakfast tea.
‘There’s always going to be something wrong, ain’t there?’ his father said. ‘Stands to reason. Man his age, if he ain’t got a place of his own, there’s a reason why.’
He wiped the last of the fried egg from his plate with the last of the fried bread and sat back with a sigh of contentment.
‘That was first class, Jonny lad. Done to perfection. You ain’t got any more out there, have you?’
‘Nope, but there’s toast coming up,’ Jonathan called from the kitchen.
He came into the living room with the toast rack and placed it on the table in front of his parents. The big main room of the flat had three large windows looking out over the estuary. Morning light flooded in to show off the ornate dining table and chairs, the large new three piece suite, the glass-fronted cabinet filled with china ornaments, and the modern electrical goods. There was a television in pride of place in front of the suite, its purple screen dead now as programmes didn’t begin till the evening, a large wireless on the sideboard, tuned to the Light Programme, and a record player on a side table with a huge pile of dance band records stacked beside it.
Jonathan’s mother helped herself to toast and spread large dollops of butter and marmalade.
‘Well, yes,
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