spot.
Margaret was telling Mum about her search for a house. ‘Gerald has given me an idea of the kind of place he wants and I have an appointment with a local solicitor this afternoon to see what’s on offer.’
Mum was curious. ‘Why is Gerald so keen to have a house by the sea, Margaret?’
‘His grandmother had a house in Berwick and he spent a lot of his childhood there, but he’s always fancied living in this area.’
Mum looked a bit dubious. ‘Will you both be happy when he retires? You have to admit you’ve had an adventurous life living in exotic places and you might find it dull living in a small town.’
Margaret laughed. ‘Oh, it’s not all that glamorous, Beth. Yes, we’ve seen a bit of the world, but do you remember what your father always said? “East, west, hame’s best.”’
Mum nodded and she looked sad. ‘Yes, I remember him saying it. He was always full of those pithy sayings.’ She handed me a large towel. ‘Hurry up and get that wet swimsuit off, Lizzie, because your arms and legs are turning blue.’
This was an exaggeration, but I wasn’t happy having to strip off my wet suit in front of Margaret and another two people who were walking along the beach. I picked up the towel and my clothes.
‘I’ll change in the hotel if that’s all right,’ I said, looking at my aunt.
‘That’s a good idea, Lizzie,’ she replied.
As I hurried up the beach, I heard Mum say that I was becoming more modest as I got older. Then she called out, ‘Put your wet swimsuit in the wash hand basin.’
Margaret said this was a natural feeling. ‘It took me months before I could get undressed in front of Gerald after we were married. He used to laugh at me.’
It was Mum’s turn to laugh. ‘Margaret, I don’t believe a word of it.’
‘You may well scoff, Beth, but it’s true.’
I tried to visualise Margaret struggling to get undressed for bed, but couldn’t.
Our room in the hotel was cosy from the sun shining through the window, and I was grateful for its warmth. I dressed quickly, combed my wet hair and hurried back to the beach, as I didn’t want to miss a moment of this holiday.
The couple who had been walking on the sand had disappeared as I made my way back to the deckchairs. As I approached, I heard Mum’s voice. It wasn’t her usual tone but more like a loud whisper.
‘Can I tell you a secret, Margaret?’
I saw my aunt turn slightly in her seat and look at Mum. ‘Of course you can, Beth. Do you remember when you were young how you always told me about things that worried you?’
‘Yes, I do remember, and that’s why I have to ask you about something.’ Mum hesitated, but she didn’t look round to see if anyone was about.
There were clumps of rough grass growing on the sand, and I sat quietly down behind one clump, feeling so guilty at eavesdropping but unable to move away. It was the strangest feeling, like I was powerless to do anything but sit. It seemed ages until Mum spoke again: I thought she had decided to abandon any more conversation and that they had both fallen asleep in the warm sun. I was almost on my feet when she said, ‘Do you know anything about spiritualism, Margaret?’
Margaret seemed to be confused. ‘Do you mean seances or fortune telling, Beth?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that. It’s a spiritualist medium who comes to a hall and gives messages from the dead.’
Margaret said she knew about things like that. ‘In South America there are lots of people who believe in messages from beyond the grave, but I’ve never had any experience of it myself.’
‘Milly, my friend at work, and her mother go to this hall in Lochee where they have these spiritualist meetings and I’ve been going with them. Milly’s fiancé and her brother were both in the Black Watch and were killed at Loos. They hope to get a message from them, as they are grief-stricken over the deaths, especially Milly’s mother, who has never recovered from the shock of
Margaret was telling Mum about her search for a house. ‘Gerald has given me an idea of the kind of place he wants and I have an appointment with a local solicitor this afternoon to see what’s on offer.’
Mum was curious. ‘Why is Gerald so keen to have a house by the sea, Margaret?’
‘His grandmother had a house in Berwick and he spent a lot of his childhood there, but he’s always fancied living in this area.’
Mum looked a bit dubious. ‘Will you both be happy when he retires? You have to admit you’ve had an adventurous life living in exotic places and you might find it dull living in a small town.’
Margaret laughed. ‘Oh, it’s not all that glamorous, Beth. Yes, we’ve seen a bit of the world, but do you remember what your father always said? “East, west, hame’s best.”’
Mum nodded and she looked sad. ‘Yes, I remember him saying it. He was always full of those pithy sayings.’ She handed me a large towel. ‘Hurry up and get that wet swimsuit off, Lizzie, because your arms and legs are turning blue.’
This was an exaggeration, but I wasn’t happy having to strip off my wet suit in front of Margaret and another two people who were walking along the beach. I picked up the towel and my clothes.
‘I’ll change in the hotel if that’s all right,’ I said, looking at my aunt.
‘That’s a good idea, Lizzie,’ she replied.
As I hurried up the beach, I heard Mum say that I was becoming more modest as I got older. Then she called out, ‘Put your wet swimsuit in the wash hand basin.’
Margaret said this was a natural feeling. ‘It took me months before I could get undressed in front of Gerald after we were married. He used to laugh at me.’
It was Mum’s turn to laugh. ‘Margaret, I don’t believe a word of it.’
‘You may well scoff, Beth, but it’s true.’
I tried to visualise Margaret struggling to get undressed for bed, but couldn’t.
Our room in the hotel was cosy from the sun shining through the window, and I was grateful for its warmth. I dressed quickly, combed my wet hair and hurried back to the beach, as I didn’t want to miss a moment of this holiday.
The couple who had been walking on the sand had disappeared as I made my way back to the deckchairs. As I approached, I heard Mum’s voice. It wasn’t her usual tone but more like a loud whisper.
‘Can I tell you a secret, Margaret?’
I saw my aunt turn slightly in her seat and look at Mum. ‘Of course you can, Beth. Do you remember when you were young how you always told me about things that worried you?’
‘Yes, I do remember, and that’s why I have to ask you about something.’ Mum hesitated, but she didn’t look round to see if anyone was about.
There were clumps of rough grass growing on the sand, and I sat quietly down behind one clump, feeling so guilty at eavesdropping but unable to move away. It was the strangest feeling, like I was powerless to do anything but sit. It seemed ages until Mum spoke again: I thought she had decided to abandon any more conversation and that they had both fallen asleep in the warm sun. I was almost on my feet when she said, ‘Do you know anything about spiritualism, Margaret?’
Margaret seemed to be confused. ‘Do you mean seances or fortune telling, Beth?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that. It’s a spiritualist medium who comes to a hall and gives messages from the dead.’
Margaret said she knew about things like that. ‘In South America there are lots of people who believe in messages from beyond the grave, but I’ve never had any experience of it myself.’
‘Milly, my friend at work, and her mother go to this hall in Lochee where they have these spiritualist meetings and I’ve been going with them. Milly’s fiancé and her brother were both in the Black Watch and were killed at Loos. They hope to get a message from them, as they are grief-stricken over the deaths, especially Milly’s mother, who has never recovered from the shock of
Similar Books
