Page 50 of A Summer Scandal

Melvin and Linda ambled up the pier arm in arm to see what was happening. Violet smiled, glad of their friendly faces, even if they did exude a slightly eightiesDynastyglamour. They were probably the least busy of the occupants of the pier for open day; sex therapy wasn’t really the kind of business people wanted to chat idly about.

‘Look, Gladys. You’re harming Cal’s business as much as anyone else’s by behaving like this,’ Violet said, and the thunderous look it earned her from the Mayoress confirmed that she’d hit a raw nerve.

‘It’s not abusiness,’ Gladys hissed, putting down the loudhailer now she was talking about her own son. ‘It’s a hobby.’

Melvin cleared his throat. ‘Actually Glad, sex aids are a very relevant part of relationships today,’ he said, adjusting the knot of his tie. ‘We often recommend a basic bondage kit to spice up a lacklustre bedroom routine.’

Linda lowered her Jackie O glasses and winked at Gladys, then cracked an invisible whip against Melvin’s slack-clad backside. He jumped, and they both smiled broadly as if they’d demonstrated their point perfectly.

Violet stifled a laugh, and Gladys pressed her head so far back into her body that her neck disappeared.

‘Closed!’ Gladys yelled, back on her loudspeaker again now. ‘This pier is officially closed as of this very minute, by decree of the council!’ She was every inch the pantomime baddie, although her crowd refrained from booing or hissing.

‘You know you can’t do that, Mum.’ Cal appeared, taking both Gladys and Violet by surprise.

‘Now wait right there, young man,’ Gladys blustered at the sight of her son, putting her briefcase and loudhailer down to stand up and chastise him as she most likely had for most of his teenage years. As she got to her feet and planted her hands on her hips, Melvin took the opportunity to fold her deckchair up quick smart as Linda picked up the loudhailer and looked in the wrong end of it.

The smattering of people who’d stilled to watch started to clap with delight, and Gladys mistook their applause as support for her cause.

‘Thank you,’ she said, bowing as she swung her arm out to encompass them.

‘They’re clapping us, not you, daft bat,’ Linda said into the megaphone, more loudly than she probably intended to, causing everyone to stare, most notably Gladys, who swung slowly round to find Melvin clutching her deckchair and Linda looking at the megaphone with surprise. She paused, taking it all in, and then looked from face to face. Melvin, Linda, Violet, and then Cal.

‘I suppose you’re enjoying this,’ she said, her red helmet of curls quivering. Violet couldn’t help but momentarily feel sorry for Gladys; she’d gone from pantomime baddie to spurned mum.

‘I’m not, actually,’ Cal said, low and calm as he gathered his mum’s chair and loudhailer from Melvin and Linda. ‘Come on. I’ll carry these back for you.’

For a horrible moment it looked as if the Lady Mayoress might cry, but then she pulled in a long, deep breath, snatched up her briefcase and strode off without a word.

Cal looked at Violet.

‘Sorry,’ he said, shrugging even though his face suggested his mother’s behaviour had got under his skin. ‘I’ll be back in half an hour.’

The rest of the day flew by without further incident. Barty’s carrot cake was a roaring success, and the benches set along the pier were rarely ever unoccupied. The locals came, couples, families and elderly groups keen to share yesteryear memories about the pier.

Violet’s heart swelled with pride whenever people spoke fondly of Monica and Henry; she might be a relatively new addition to Swallow Beach, but she wasn’t a stranger to the older generation; she was Monica’s granddaughter. She lost track of the number of people who exclaimed on her similarity to her grandmother, and every time it happened a tiny gossamer stitch wove Violet and Monica closer together across the years. Two artistic, impulsive brunettes with eyes almost the exact shade of the sea that surged beneath the pier they loved.

‘Any dinner plans?’ Cal said, as they trudged up the stairs to the top floor of the Lido. They’d finally locked up the pier just after seven thirty, and Violet was sore-faced from smiling and her feet were killing her; she’d walked for miles that day, back up and down the wooden boards of the pier.

‘Bath, scrambled eggs and bed,’ she said, feeling for her keys in her bag. ‘Rock and roll, eh?’

Cal shrugged, looking out of the landing window towards the beach. ‘Sounds like a good Saturday night to me.’

Was he being sarcastic? Violet wasn’t sure. And then she was, because he looked down at her and said, ‘Come to mine? I’ll throw a glass of wine and a movie in with the scrambled eggs.’

She looked at her door. Silence and solitude lay beyond it, which she kind of needed after such a full-on day. She’d planned a bath, an easy dinner and an early night. But then she looked at Cal, and his dark eyes invited her for a different kind of evening, and suddenly she wasn’t tired after all.

‘Let me just go and grab a quick shower.’ Then she sighed, because she remembered that she didn’t have a shower. ‘A bath, even.’

‘You can use my shower if you like?’ he offered, then rushed in with, ‘I mean that in a totally non-pervy way, just because you don’t have a shower in there.’

It was a bit of a ridiculous conversation, and they both laughed a little.

‘I could bring my PJs to change into afterwards,’ she said, because actually a hot shower sounded heavenly. Exotic as her grandmother’s bathroom was, the tub took forever to fill and washing her hair was a nightmare with a cup in the sink. ‘I’ve never been to a slumber party.’

‘Me neither,’ he grinned. ‘Do I get to pick the movie?’ he asked, narrowing his eyes.

‘Only if you have popcorn,’ she said. A TV was another of the things that her apartment lacked. This was shaping up into a pretty decent Saturday night plan.

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