Page 26 of A Summer Scandal

Violet stared at him, hoping he was going to crack into a smile to let on that he was kidding. He didn’t; instead, Keris leaned forward across Vi and hissed, ‘I know she’s your mother, but she’s getting right on my bloody tits, Cal.’

‘No apology needed,’ he said. ‘She has that effect on everyone. Me included, most of the time.’

They listened as the Mayoress laboured through the speech she’d prepared, doggedly determined to read the whole thing out regardless, putting forward her case for applying for a compulsory purchase order to return the pier to public ownership – under her own expert guidance, naturally.

Violet listened in fraught silence, her jaw clamped tight in case she let out a long string of expletives. Gladys appeared to expect a round of applause as she reached the end of the speech, throwing her arms out and almost bowing as her motley crowd stared at her, taken aback by the fact that she’d adapted Winston Churchill’s ‘Fight them on the beaches’ speech in a frankly alarming way, claiming she was ready to ‘fight on Swallow Beaches’ in a way that came over as both sabre-rattling and nonsensical.

‘Reminded me of Putin for a second there,’ Barty said mildly as they stood to leave. ‘Despotic.’

‘Pub?’ Keris suggested.

Cal nodded. ‘I’ll catch you up.’

Violet watched him disappear through the same door as Gladys, obviously keen for a private word with his mother.

‘I take it they don’t see eye to eye?’

Keris laughed. ‘Understatement of the century.’

‘Chalk and cheese,’ Barty said. ‘Although he was the apple of her eye when he was knee-high. Shame, really, how families change.’

Violet sighed, aware that the comment could equally be applied to her own family. She’d thought them to be fairly dull with no skeletons in the cupboard, yet all the time Swallow Beach had been sitting silently in there without her even knowing about its existence. The vintage apartment, silent and empty save for the monthly cleaner. The beautiful pier, mothballed and unwalked on by anyone but the safety inspectors in all of those years. The Mayoress was right about one thing: it was time for Swallow Beach Pier to come back to life.

‘Rum,’ Cal said, laying his hand on Barty’s shoulder as he placed a drink down on the table in front of the senior statesman of the Lido. It was a more than healthy measure in a tumbler engraved with a B; it was fast becoming clear to Vi that, as much as Barty belonged to Swallow Beach, Swallow Beach belonged to him.

Revived by a large glass of red, she turned to Keris beside her. ‘What was all that about you sending unmentionables in the post?’

‘Terribly racy,’ Barty said. ‘Shamed, I am.’ He grinned and raised his glass to his granddaughter.

Keris picked up her gin and tonic. ‘I run a mail order lingerie business.’

‘Do you really?’ Vi said, taken aback. ‘How did you end up doing that?’

‘By accident, really.’

‘The accidental knicker-seller,’ Cal said, putting his pint down. ‘That’s the name of her online store.’

‘It’s not, is it?’ Vi said, looking from one to the other.

Keris rolled her eyes. ‘Shut up, Dearheart.’ She chucked a beermat and Cal caught it, laughing.

‘I lived in London for a while,’ Keris said. ‘Ended up working in one of those high-end lingerie stores and sort of fell in love with it all.’

‘And now you sell underwear from home?’

‘For the moment,’ Keris said. ‘Until I can open my own shop.’

Violet started to laugh. ‘Your mum wasn’t that far off the mark after all, Cal,’ she said, finally relaxing thanks to the wine and the company. ‘We are a sordid bunch in the Lido, what with you and your floggers and Keris and her saucy knickers.’

‘And you and Lola too now,’ Cal said. ‘You’ve definitely lowered the tone.’

‘Lola?’ Keris looked at Violet, startled. ‘Do you have a daughter?’

Vi almost spluttered on her wine. ‘God, no. No! Lola’s the dressmaker’s dummy in my apartment.’

‘She’s a showgirl,’ Cal threw in. ‘I met her this afternoon, quite the looker.’

‘She doesn’t even have a head,’ Violet pointed out.

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