“That’s what I wanted to talk about. There’s a couple of things we need some time to discuss. Things that I need to explain.”
“You can explain until you’re blue in the face. It isn’t going to make any difference. When I think about all the support
and care and encouragement I’ve given you. You don’t deserve it. None of it.” She starts walking again and Jack lengthens
his stride to catch up.
Out on the sands the retreating tide reveals the rusty ironwork of a wreck, draped in seaweed and studded with limpets, a
seagoing vessel reduced by the rush of disaster to a hopeless shell of what it once was. Jack catches hold of Ruth’s hand
and puts it in the crook of his arm.
Ruth turns to face him, livid with fury. “How could you?” she shouts. “How could you make such a fool of me? In front of the
Lloyds, of all people?” Ruth pulls her hand away from Jack and they do not speak again.
The three-mile walk has made them late back to the hotel and Ruth is getting anxious about the absence of the girls when they
suddenly turn up. Ruth is still angry. When she sees Helen in a torn blouse and muddied skirt she snaps, “Go upstairs and
take that blouse off. It’s torn to bits. You look a sight.” Seeing Helen’s tear-stained cheeks, she continues, “It’s no good
crying over spilt milk. I told you that top wasn’t at all suitable for a girl your age. I said it would fall to bits, didn’t
I? How on earth have you got yourself in this mess?”
“It was my fault,” Beth says. “I dragged her down the steps to the beach and she fell. That’s why she scratched her leg and
everything.”
Ruth finally loses her patience. “What did I tell you, Helen? I told you to stay here, not to go out. You should know, you’re
the eldest. Does nobody ever give a thought to me? Does what I say matter so little? Go upstairs and get washed and changed.
Here are the keys. You’ll have to put on your other skirt, it’s in the suitcase under the bed.”
Jack has been standing back during this exchange between mother and daughter. He has noted the state of Helen’s clothes, watched
as the color in Beth’s cheeks rises as she speaks. He is almost convinced that Beth is lying, but he doesn’t want to begin
thinking about what has happened and how his older daughter got into that state. The sight of her may infuriate Ruth, but
it troubles Jack.
The Singletons are first into the dining room at six o’clock. Helen has no appetite, she pushes the fish and chips around
her plate and is relieved when the waitress clears the table. Ruth confines herself to two cups of tea and a slice of bread.
It is left to Jack and Beth to maintain an air of normality. Sensing the parental rift, Beth fills the silence with an account
of her progress with the I-Spy book. It is, she claims, almost full. She pulls the book out of the side pocket of her shorts
and, starting with page one, recites all the items she has spied. She hands the book to Jack and asks him to add up the scores.
Some of the pages are crumpled, folded back, or have come loose altogether. Her handwriting is a mixture of over- and undersized
letters scattered across the page, squashed circles, bent strings and backward-facing “s”s.
Nevertheless Jack is moved to paternal pride by the effort his daughter has made. He turns to Beth and says, “Leave it with
me, Sputnik. When we get home I’ll straighten out all the pages and tot up your points. All right?”
Beth nods happily.
The family are leaving the dining room just as the Cleggs arrive. Florrie is disappointed and expresses the hope that they’ll
all meet up later in the Residents’ Lounge, but Ruth shakes her head. She has packing to do.
Jack spends the evening closeted with Victor in the office. Together they drink the best part of a bottle of Irish whiskey
and, when conversation shifts to the war, Victor talks about how things might have been if his wife had survived. Before they
part company at ten, Jack has made up his mind to tell Ruth about the letter from Eleni.
Ruth is busy, as usual, when Jack gets to the room. She has everything they brought away on holiday laid out across the double
bed—everything from medicines and cleaning materials to the piles of dirty clothes. She ignores his presence and continues
to empty the dressing-table drawers. Eventually she looks up and says, “You’re back early. Dougie finally drunk the pub dry,
has he?”
“I haven’t been out. I’ve just been in the office chatting to Victor. I’ve settled the bill. I haven’t made the usual booking
for next year. I thought you might like to try somewhere different. You’ve always said you fancy a week in Llandudno.”
“You think a week in Llandudno makes up for what you’ve done?”
“I’ve said I’m sorry time and again. I should have told you about the management job sooner.”
“I’ll bet you’ve discussed it with Dougie.”
Jack picks up a sock from the floor and puts it back in the pile on the bed. “None of this matters. All that matters is that
we get over this and start looking to the future.”
“But why didn’t you tell me? Why do you have to keep secrets?”
“I was worried that you’d talk me out of taking the Union job and then I’d regret the decision. But I’m sure now. If you agree
I’m going to take the job with Fosters.”
Ruth pauses in the task of stuffing the dirty clothes into a clean white laundry bag and looks Jack in the eye. “I’m glad.
I know it was a difficult decision, but you’ll see, it’ll turn out to be the best thing. Just think of what we’ll be able
to do with the extra money.” She turns and sits down on the edge of the bed.
“There’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Jack slips his hand inside his jacket and feels for the letter. It’s
not there, it must be in his trousers.
“What?”
“Something that’s been bothering me a lot. It’s about a girl I got friendly with…”
Ruth’s heart sinks. She lets the laundry bag slide from her fingers. “So it’s true,” she says, her eyes filling with tears.
“Cora told me and I wouldn’t believe her. I told her she was a liar, that just because her husband messed around it didn’t
mean that mine did. But she saw you with that girl.”
“But she can’t have. Cora saw me doing what?”
“She saw you with a girl on Wednesday night. She had your jacket on, Cora said. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe
you’d be unfaithful. She saw you at eleven and it was well past midnight before you got back here. You had sex with her, didn’t
you?” Jack refuses to answer. “Didn’t you? You had sex with that girl, didn’t you?” Jack drops his head and nods. “It’s true!
I can tell from your face. Where did you go?”
“Ruth, please. It doesn’t matter. There are more important things we need to talk about.” Jack pulls the letter from his pocket.
But Ruth, blinded by tears, fails to notice. “What could be more important than you committing adultery? Where did you have
sex? On a backstreet somewhere? What’s her name, or didn’t you bother to find out?” Ruth starts to cry. Jack walks round the
bed and tries to sit next to her, but she throws out her arms and shouts, “Get away. Get away from me. You liar. You cheat.
You’re nothing better than a dog.”
Jack moves away and sits on the opposite side of the bed, his shoulders slumped in despair. He tries again. “I’m sorry. I
shouldn’t have done it. I know that. I’d had a few pints. It meant nothing at all.”
“What if you’ve made her pregnant? Or is that what you wanted? Then you could have the chance of a son?”
The absurdity of this accusation makes Jack finally lose his temper. “That’s a bloody ridiculous thing to say, Ruth. Rubbish.
It’s just rubbish. And I’m getting tired of forever making allowances for you. Whatever I do, I’m always in the wrong. It’s
been obvious for a long time that you don’t want me. I’ve tried to be reasonable. I’ve tried to be patient. I know you’ve
been upset about Beth, but I have too. Anybody would think you were the only one who cares.” Jack looks down, and seeing Eleni’s
letter crumpled in his hand, he pushes it back in his pocket.
Ruth looks up at him, her face streaked with tears. “Well, you needn’t worry. You won’t have to put up with me for much longer.
I shall be leaving when we get back tomorrow. And I’ll be taking the girls with me.”
This threat strikes home. “Don’t be daft. Where would you go?”
“Anywhere will do as long as it’s away from you.”
“It’s a waste of time trying to talk to you when you’re in this state.”
“Get out, then. Go on, get out.”
Ruth launches herself at Jack, thumping his shoulder and chest until he pushes her arms away and gets up from the bed. “I’m
going for a walk on the prom.”
Ruth doesn’t reply.
There’s a southwesterly wind blowing when he gets outside. He buttons his jacket and strides towards the prom. There are still
a fair number of people about, spending their final evening in the resort strolling arm in arm and admiring the sunset. Jack
finds an empty bench and sits down. Ruth’s threat to take the girls has hit him hard. It’s ironic that he’d meant to tell
her about his relationship with Eleni and ended up having to admit to a meaningless one-night stand with Connie. There’s some
small comfort to be had from the fact that Cora may have seen him, but she won’t have recognized who he was with.
One thing is clear, Ruth is in no state to hear about Eleni now. And he certainly can’t tell her he has a son. The prospect
of keeping this secret is not as unbearable as he first thought. Jack knows that he needs to make Ruth understand how sorry
and ashamed he is about his one-night stand. He needs to ask for her forgiveness and he needs to do it quickly before the
argument spirals out of control and he loses everything. Jack gets up from the form and heads back across the promenade to
the hotel. Halfway across the road Gunner appears out of the blue and falls into step.
“You shouldn’t be out at this time,” Jack tells Gunner. “At this rate you’ll be joining me in the doghouse.”
Gunner looks up at him and wags his tail. It’s a heartening sight.
Back in the hotel room Ruth blows her nose on a rag and wipes her eyes when she hears Jack’s knock. She opens the door and
steps back when he strides in. The sight of him reduces Ruth to tears again. She walks back to the bed and, heedless of the
piles of dirty clothes and still empty suitcase, leans forward and puts her head in her hands.
“Don’t, Ruth. Don’t cry. I’ve been a fool. I know it’s no excuse but I was drunk. Drunk and stupid.”
“Who was she?’
“Just some girl in the bar.”
“You betrayed seventeen years of marriage and two daughters for some stranger in a bar?”
Jack walks over and sits on the bed next to Ruth. Her hair has come loose from its Victory Roll and her cheeks are stained
with tears. Jack strokes her hair and puts his arms round her. She resists for a moment, then drops her head as another hopeless
rush of tears overwhelms her.
“Forgive me, Ruth. I’ll make it up to you. I promise. You know how much I care for you and the girls. How can I make things
right again? What can I do to make things better?”
Now it’s time to say good-bye, children! Our I-Spy adventure together has finally come to an end. Big Chief I-Spy hopes that
you’ve enjoyed
I-Spy at the Seaside
and you’ve discovered lots of things that you never knew before!
It’s only when the cloakroom attendant turns round to take her coat that Ruth recognizes her. It’s Cora—Cora Lloyd in a neat
navy-blue uniform with a badge on her chest that reads “Reception.” Ruth’s first reaction is one of shock. Jack had coaxed
her into drinking a glass of sherry to settle her nerves before she left home, and for a moment she imagines that she is drunk
and hallucinating. “Is it you, Cora?” she asks, leaning forward slightly. Her high-heeled black patent court shoes creak with
the strain.
“Oh, hello, Ruth! I was hoping I’d see you.” This is not quite correct—if truth were told Cora has dreaded this moment ever
since she heard she was on Friday night duty and no one was prepared to swap shifts. Ruth appears incapable of immediate reply
so Cora continues, “Gosh, don’t you look glamorous! Where did you get the outfit?”
Ruth feels awkward, keenly aware of her last meeting with Cora. This is Ruth’s first time at Fosters’ Annual Management Buffet
and Dance. It’s typical that the first year Jack’s name has been added to the guest list, Fosters has changed the rules and
now even foremen are invited. The card specified formal dress. After some thought Ruth decided upon a long black velvet skirt
and a pink pin-tucked blouse with a standing collar and pearl buttons to match her earrings. The whole outfit cost more guineas
than Ruth believed she could strictly afford.
“Where did you get it? You never went all the way to Manchester, did you?”
“No. I bought it at that Italian shop on Queen Street in Blackpool.”
“Roberto’s?”
“Is that what it’s called? I don’t really remember.” This is stretching the truth somewhat. Ruth had spent the whole of the
train journey back from Blackpool with the foil and cardboard carrier box perched on the double seat opposite. By the time
she reached Blackburn the words “Roberto, Fine Italian Couture” were burnt into her brain.
“Here, let me take your coat,” Cora says. “Mustn’t keep you waiting or I’ll be getting the sack.”
Ruth hands over her black fitted coat. “What are you doing here?” she asks as Cora slips the coat on to a hanger, pins a green
numbered ticket on the collar and hands Ruth the stub.
“Cloakroom duty. Usually I’m on reception but we’re short-staffed tonight so it’s all hands to the pump. I’ll be helping on
the bar later.”
“Oh!” Ruth says. “How long have you been working here?”
“Oh, just a few months. I suppose you’ve heard that I’ve left Ronnie. I don’t doubt that Blanche’s shop has been buzzing with
the gossip.”
“No, I hadn’t heard. Helen’s not working there now. She stopped when school started again in September.”
“Oh.”
The conversation is interrupted by Irene Sykes, keen to shed her bouclé wool swing-back jacket. She pushes the jacket across
the desk towards Cora with some satisfaction. “Evening, Cora. You’re never on duty again! Put this on a padded hanger, will
you? Those wire ones are a waste of time. Doesn’t she look a picture in her uniform, Mrs. Singleton? Quite the career girl
nowadays, isn’t she?” Irene swans off before either woman has a chance to reply.