‘Yes, I am as it happens.’
‘Already done.’
‘What?’
‘You’ve already been read.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘Drink your tea. Tony says you’re a bright lad. I don’t think so.’
‘Oh?’
‘Look, if you want me to peer into that glass ball I’ll do it. If you want me to read the lines on your hand I’ll do that as well. That’s all theatre. But you’re
not a civilian. You’re in the business.’
‘So what have I paid for?’
‘You’ve paid for the reading. And I said it’s done. I read you the moment you stepped in here.’
I couldn’t tell if she was pulling my leg or, worse, just taking me for a fool.
‘The first one, she’s bad news. She’s already put a mark on you. The other one, the one you’ve got now, I like her much better. You can make each other happy.
You’ve got a good chance. That what you wanted to know?’
I thought for a moment. On the one hand yes, I wanted to know about Terri; but I also wanted to if she were safe. ‘I’m worried about her welfare.’
‘Who?’
‘The first one. As you called her.’
‘I can’t tell you things like that. Only things directly to do with you. If I knew everything I’d have won the pools by now, my darling.’
I must have looked a little blank.
‘There is another thing bothering you. Something much more serious. But you’re hiding that even from yourself.’
‘Am I?’
‘Oh yes. Too dark for me to see. That’s why I’m going to send you to see someone else. She’s much better than me. She doesn’t like doing it and she’ll take no
payment. But if you say I sent you, she’ll see you all right. Now drink your tea and tell me about the people you come from.’
I walked away from Rosa’s tiny caravan not quite sure if I’d been fleeced or whether she was one of the cleverest women on the planet. On the face of it I think I
got just as much useful advice from the coin-operated machine on the pier. ‘Choose your future wisely.’ Had that cup of tea just cost me £4.50? I was in no position to ask her any
direct question. Perhaps I should have asked her if Enoch Powell was right in his
Rivers Of Blood
speech. But of course the future depends on who you ask, and what people want it to be. To
the Enoch Powell question Tony would say yes. Nikki would say I love you, let’s have multi-racial babies.
Then it occurred to me, with forehead-slapping stupidity, that I’d let Rosa mesmerise me with tea and talk. She even had the honesty to tell me that everything she said she could have
observed from the window of her caravan. She saw everyone come and go. Just a little intuition could put most of it together. And yet she seemed to see.
She told me she would arrange for me to see this other person. She would send a message when this other person was ready.
At last the weather broke. One day the temperature suddenly swooped downwards and the flags on the white painted poles outside the camp gates started flapping with a kind of
angry excitement. The rain came. Undramatic, heavy, relentless. It wasn’t fun for those holidaymakers late in the season who wanted the hot weather to continue, but I found myself walking out
in it in my white shirt and trousers. I was supposed to referee a kids’ football game when the rain came. The boys ran like hell to get out of it but I stood alone in the middle of the
football field and I let it soak me and it felt good. The ground was hard as bone and at first the rainwater lay in great sheets. Then it found its way between the cracks and fissures in the dry
earth and slowly began to saturate the soil. I remember that it rained morning, noon and night.
I got out of the rabbit hutch staff accommodation. Nikki found a little flat above a shop that sold postcards and plastic buckets and spades and rubber rings. We moved our stuff in together. It
was good to get off the camp every night so that we could rediscover who we were before we’d arrived there. With the rain coming down we spent all our free time there. I even managed to get
Nikki interested in books. She read Erich Segal’s
Love Story
and
Carrie
by Stephen King and
Fahrenheit 451
by Ray Bradbury.
One day when the rain had stopped I passed by the reception and Edna, the sweet lady who worked there, came running out to say that I had visitors.
‘Who is it?’ I asked.
‘They’re waiting in here.’ Edna beckoned me back to the reception desk and I followed her indoors. Two plastic chairs had been drawn up by the desk and there, waiting
patiently, were my mother and my stepfather. On seeing me they both stood up.
‘Here he is!’ my mum half shouted, flinging her arms around me and kissing me.
Ken was all smiles, too. ‘Look at you,’ he said. ‘Striped blazer and everything.’ He turned to Edna. ‘He looks the part! Doesn’t he look the part?’
They were all smiles. It was in neither’s nature to reveal to Edna or anyone else any of the tensions behind the fact that I was working there. So our reunion was a moment of laughter and
high spirits.
Edna smiled. ‘We’re proud of him,’ she said. ‘We’re all proud of him here.’
‘I’ll have to get one of those striped blazers myself,’ Ken said. ‘They’re quite the thing.’
‘You’ll have to lose a few pounds first!’ my mother said, laughing.
‘It’s okay, they have slightly bigger ones,’ I joked. ‘We can get you fixed up.’
‘What’s he saying about me!’ shouted Ken, his eyes bulging. He laughed. My mum laughed. Edna laughed. I went along with this jollity, but it was almost unbearable.
Having taken me by surprise Ken said he wanted to take me to lunch, and did I know anywhere. I knew we could get something at The Dunes pub around the corner so I suggested that. I’d
already arranged to have lunch with Nikki so I told them.
They exchanged a look.
‘No, that’s fine,’ said Ken. ‘We’d love to meet her.’
‘Yes,’ my mum said a little too quickly. ‘We’d like to meet your girl, wouldn’t we?’
We had to wait for about ten minutes before Nikki was through with her activities in the ballroom. I asked my parents to wait as I went off to get her. I wanted to cushion Nikki a little.
‘Really? They’re here? Now?’
‘Yes. In reception.’
‘Okay. Let’s do it.’
I needn’t have worried about Nikki. She took charge. It was as if she’d been through this ritual many times before. She utterly charmed them. She asked if they’d come far and
how was their journey; she smiled and laughed at their jovial comments and paid great attention to my mother’s words.
‘We thought we’d go for lunch,’ Ken said.
‘Great idea,’ Nikki said. ‘I’ll just go and freshen up. Mrs Barwise, do you need the loo?’
‘You have to call me Jean,’ my mum said, happily following Nikki to the ladies’ room.
After they’d gone Ken took me aggressively by the elbow. ‘She’s stunning!’ he said. ‘Where the heck did you find that one?’
‘She works here.’
‘Well, she’s got good taste. And so do you. You lucky sod.’
‘I’m surprised to see you here, Dad.’
‘Look, son, it’s your mother. You know what she’s like. She worries about you.’
‘I’m completely fine. What is there to be worried about?’
‘Nothing by the look of you!’
Pinky came by, carrying some cartons of Players No. 6. I introduced the two men. They were of a similar generation and they exchanged a few pleasant words. Pinky made my cheeks burn by saying
what a good chap I was and how well I’d fitted in, and then went on his way.
‘It’s just that,’ Ken said, ‘your mum was a bit taken aback by that phone call the other day.’
‘What?’
Ken looked at me hard and for the first time I thought I saw hatred in his eyes. No, it wasn’t exactly hatred: it was betrayal, and confusion, and the look of a man who had decided
he’d had enough. It was like he’d tried hard with me all my life to get me to trust him, to give him a fair chance, and now he was ready to give up. He was probably right. I would never
trust him. He was wasting his time.
Before he could say anything Nikki and my mum reappeared. My mum was giggling. Nikki winked at me.
I’ll say one thing for Ken: he was a good actor. ‘Come on then, ladies.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘Anyone hungry?’
‘Me me me,’ said Nikki.
‘Me me me too,’ went my mum.
So this jolly group of us left the camp and headed round to The Dunes. The infamous Skegness breeze had picked up and we braced against it. Ken wore a trilby, which he pressed to his head as we
walked. My mum had tied a floral headscarf round her tight perm. Nikki’s hair whipped in the wind.
The Dunes was busy and the only table free happened to be the one I’d sat at with Colin the time he’d brought me there. Nikki was terrific again. ‘Pull that chair up for your
mum, David; it’s more comfortable. I’ll get the drinks.’
‘You will not,’ said Ken, standing up.
‘Sit down and talk to your son! You haven’t seen him in a while.’
He looked flustered. He took his wallet out of his pocket and found a large banknote. ‘Well, you can get them but I’m paying.’
Nikki accepted the banknote. ‘And what’s everyone eating?’
With Nikki away at the bar my dad said, ‘She’s lovely.’ He was clearly smitten.
My mum took off her headscarf. ‘She’s quite a bit older than you, isn’t she?’
I looked out of the window. I wondered if it might rain again.
‘Well I’m older than you!’ Ken said to her. ‘What difference does that make?
Mum sniffed and affected to look critically at the upholstery and the curtains in the pub.
‘What do they pay you here, then?’ Ken wanted to know.
I didn’t name a figure but I told him that you had to take into account that you got lodgings and three meals per day in with your wages. Then Nikki came back with a tray of drinks. She
took them off the tray and placed them in front of us. ‘Babycham for mother. Pint of bitter apiece for the boys. And half a lager for little me.’ She leaned the tray on the floor
against her chair and sat down. Then she picked up her lager. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers,’ said Ken.
‘Good health,’ said Mum. ‘Isn’t this nice?’
We talked about the hot weather and the drought conditions, and how it had been here, and how it had been at home. Ken made a joke to Nikki about saving water by taking a bath with a friend. We
discussed the ladybird invasion, which obviously hadn’t been as intense at home as it had here on the coast. They were amazed to hear about it. I was surprised how light Ken could be in
different company. I was seeing a different side to him. My mother meanwhile stroked her throat and looked around the pub a lot. Her smile seemed to ache by contrast to his.
Our meals arrived. Chicken-in-a-basket with chips. Gammon and pineapple. ‘Have you been to university, Nikki?’ my mum asked, apropos of nothing.
‘No. Not bright enough.’
‘Me neither,’ said Ken. ‘And it hasn’t stopped me putting away a bob or two.’
‘Ken!’ said mum.
‘Well,’ he said genially, ‘there are all these students out of work. Graduates, stacking shelves in the supermarkets. What’s the point?’
‘But education is a great thing, isn’t it, Ken?’ Nikki said. Searching him with her dark brown eyes. When she said that I thought: I want to marry you.
‘Of course it is; of course it is. But there have to be jobs at the end of it.’
‘What will you do, Nikki?’ asked my mum. ‘Now that the season has nearly ended.’
The three of us had Black Forest gateau for dessert while Ken smoked a cigarette. The conversation stalled and there was the sound of forks on plates and crumbs of cake being scraped together.
When we’d finished, Nikki got up to go to the ladies’ room and when she’d gone my mother suggested we go outside.
‘What for?’ I said.
‘You’ll stay here with Nikki, won’t you, Ken?’
‘What’s this about?’
‘I’ll buy her another drink,’ Ken said. ‘Don’t you worry. I’ll keep her company.’
‘Can we step outside, David?’ My mum looked at me, pleading.
Mum put her coat back on again, and her headscarf, and out we went into the stiff breeze. We walked away from the pub, but slowly, the way people do when they have no direction in mind. She
linked her arm in mine. The fine sand blew across the path under our feet. ‘Why did you come here, David?’
‘To work, obviously.’
‘I know that. But why here? Why this place?’
‘I heard there was a job going, that’s all.’
She looked at me with sadness. I noticed for the first time that her eyeballs were slightly jaundiced at the sockets. ‘I don’t know how much you know and how much you
don’t.’
‘You’re talking in riddles, Mum.’
We made it onto the promenade. The wind was gusting out there. The sea looked choppy. Maybe a squall was coming in. The gulls were all floating in a tight colony on the bobbing grey tide.
‘You were three years old, David. He’d brought you here. He hadn’t told anyone.’
‘Who? My Dad?’
‘Yes, your father. Your natural father. He kidnapped you away, you see. He brought you here. I didn’t know where you were. I was going out of my mind. The police got dragged in.
Everything. We’d broken up, your dad and I. I wasn’t happy. He was a difficult man.
‘At first I thought that by coming here you were punishing me. Punishing me and Ken. Making a big point. Because that’s what you do, David. You don’t say what you’re
thinking. You just do things. But now I know you weren’t. Weren’t making a point, I mean. I really believe you don’t know about this place.
‘We should have talked about it. All those years when you were growing up, we should have told you. But we felt so bad, David. You have to be easy on us. We felt so deep down bad. Because
Ken and I had got together and that seemed to be the thing that drove him over the edge.
‘This is where they found you David. On the pier. This is where it happened.’
I stopped dead. ‘Where what happened?’
And she told me what she knew.
She opened her handbag and she pulled out a small leather wallet. ‘He abandoned you, David. He left you wandering alone on the pier. Three years old, and he left you. You were holding this
wallet, which he must have given you. There wasn’t much in it. A few pound notes. The photograph which you took from me. Some bus tickets. The police took you in. Then his body was washed up.
I’d reported you missing. Ken and I came to collect you and I had to go and identify him. I should have told you all this before. I tried to, many times. But I couldn’t.’