The Palace of Strange Girls (34 page)

“You needn’t sound so pleased.”

“I’m not! I’m just saying.”

“Has your marriage turned out exactly as you expected? Has Jack never disappointed you? You were calling him all the names
under the sun not ten minutes ago.”

“Well, at least he doesn’t keep me short of money, he doesn’t spend time on Liverpool Road and he doesn’t knock me around.”

“No. He’s not the type, is he? No, that’s not Jack’s way with women. Jack’s way with women is to look after them.”

“It’s true, he’s a very protective husband,” Ruth says with a self-congratulatory smile. She could almost forgive Cora for
calling her naive.

“Well, he was certainly looking after the woman he was walking along the prom with a couple of nights ago. She had his jacket
round her shoulders when I saw them.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I’m not lying, Ruth. I saw them when Ronnie was driving me back from the restaurant.”

“You’ve made a mistake. It was someone else. It’s easy to mistake people in the dark.”

“He was under the lights. And anyway, I’ve known Jack all my life. I could spot him a mile off.”

“Well, there must have been something wrong. An accident maybe. Jack’s not like that. He went out to see Tom Bell on Wednesday.
They had a chat about a Union job that’s coming up.”

“A Union job? But Ronnie said—”

Ruth interrupts her: “They had a couple of pints and then he came back to the hotel.”

“So what time did he get in? It was around eleven when I saw him and that girl.”

Ruth pauses, remembers Jack coming in at half past twelve. “I’ve forgotten,” she replies. “I’m not watching him all the time.
Why should I? Jack would never go with another woman. Just because your marriage is a disaster there’s no need to start throwing
mud at mine. Anyway, it’s time I got back to the girls.”

“Oh, Ruth. Come back. Don’t leave like this. Don’t let’s fall out, Ruth.”

But Cora’s words are drowned out by the sound of the powder room door swinging shut behind Ruth.

The highlight of any holiday at the seaside is the pier. It is an exciting place with lots of things to see and do. It can
be decked out with colored lights—a fantastic place where you can play deck quoits, watch a show, admire the view, have a
drink or even dance! Score 10 points for walking on the pier.

A
lan is off to the bar again when Helen sneaks a look at her watch. It’s twenty to four. Beth should have been back ten minutes
ago. Helen reckons she’s only got another fifteen minutes or so to find Beth and get them both back to the hotel lounge before
their parents return. Helen stands up and looks down the length of the pier. It’s difficult to see much with all the crowds.
Perhaps Beth has gone down on to the beach? Helen peers over the rail down on to the sands hoping to catch a glimpse of Beth’s
yellow scarf. At last she catches sight of a girl about the right size standing by herself, but the girl is bareheaded and
wearing a pretty cotton dress so it can’t be Beth. Helen doesn’t know where else to look. She turns round and sees Alan in
the middle of a group of porters and kitchen hands from the hotel. She recognizes them as the group of lads who are usually
hanging on Connie’s every word. There’s a lot of laughter and one or two of them keep glancing over at Helen and nudging Alan.
Anxious now, Helen starts to walk back down the pier to the entrance to see if she can see Beth on her way back. The further
she walks, the more desperate she becomes. Suddenly there’s a jerk on her wrist and she turns, hoping it’s Beth. But it’s
not. It’s Alan.

“’Ang on a minute! Where do you think you’re off to? I’ve just got you another drink.”

“Beth. I have to find Beth.”

Alan starts talking, but Helen is in no mood to listen. She twists her wrist out of his grasp and moves forward again, forcing
her way through the crowds. Beth isn’t at the pier entrance and there’s no sign of her under the clock. She seems to have
vanished into thin air.

“Don’t panic. She’ll be all right. She’s probably buggerin’ about with our Rob somewhere. She’ll turn up.”

Helen looks again at her watch. It’s quarter to four. She has less than five minutes to find Beth. “I’ll have a look on the
beach,” she decides.

“What’s the point? If she was down there you’d have spotted her already from up here.”

Alan puts his arm round Helen’s waist to stop her walking away, then stands in front of her, blocking her escape.

Helen twists out of his embrace and darts sideways to the pier railings. She looks down again into the seething mass, hoping
against hope she’ll spot Beth looking up at her.

Alan puts his hand across her shoulders and says, “Relax. Have another drink. I’ll bet the crafty bugger has taken her for
a UCP.”

“UCP? What do you mean? United Cow Products? Why would he take her to the tripe shop? She’s not allowed in shops on her own.
She’s too young.”

“Not the shop,” Alan says with a snigger. “UCP—Under Central Pier for a bit of the other.”

Helen turns and looks at him. He thinks this is a joke. He couldn’t care less about his own brother, let alone Beth. His sniggering
makes Helen furious, but there are more important things to worry about. He might be right. “I’m going to look under the pier.
She’s been nattering to explore rock pools for her I-Spy book.”

Alan looks delighted at the prospect, as if all the hard work has been done for him. He leads her down the wooden steps on
to the beach and they step into the shade under the pier. It takes a minute or two for Helen’s eyes to get used to the darkness,
let alone begin to look for Beth. The pier is supported by a forest of pillars, their tops hidden in the darkness of planking
and their bottoms swathed in seaweed and surrounded by pools of salt water and rocks. There’s a dank, brown, slow-dripping
smell of rust, wood and rot. Alan leads her further into the darkness until she stumbles on a tussock of rotting seaweed and
slips. She stretches out her hand towards the nearest iron pillar but misses and starts to fall, grazing her arm against the
barnacles that cover the concrete footings. Alan catches hold of her other hand and she doesn’t know how it happens, but she
ends up flat on her back in the sand with Alan beside her. He immediately rolls on top of her and, before she has a chance
even to catch her breath, clamps his lips over hers.

Helen struggles to free herself. His kiss slathers her mouth in saliva. His lips forced on hers, he angles his face harshly
against her cheekbone, squashing her nose sideways. Helen is suffocating. When she raises her hands to push him off he grabs
both her arms and traps her wrists under her, tearing at the neckline of her top. Her lungs are bursting with the effort of
fighting for air. She’s afraid she’ll faint. She stops struggling and lies still. It’s no good. He’s too heavy for her to
throw off. Her mind races, trying to work out a way to outwit him. She lies quite still and finally his grip on her relaxes
in response. Helen manages to work one hand free, her wrist burning with the aftermath of his loosened grip. She pushes her
arm between their bodies, the heel of her hand hard against his shoulder and he shifts slightly, allowing her a single breath
before his full weight is over her again. His knee is forcing her legs open and his hand scrabbling through the layers of
her underskirt, his nails raking her thighs. He lifts his head for a second and she grasps another breath, her scream silenced
by the return of his lips. His teeth cut into her lip and there’s the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Her throat retches
on the choke of his tongue until he moves again and she turns away, teeth clenched shut against him.

His hand moves over her mouth and presses the side of her face into the putrid sand now, and she is fighting for air again
as the particles of sand cover her lips and block her nose. She is trapped, trussed up in his arms, weak from the effort of
trying to throw him off. Helen stops struggling and starts to sob, turning her head away, sickened by the knowledge of what
he is doing to her. There in the semidarkness, six or seven feet away, she can see another couple. The girl is familiar. It’s
Connie. She’s flat on her back with the figure of a man lying on his side facing her. They are murmuring and he bends and
kisses her lightly, and there is another burst of laughter. It’s Doug. It is a moment before he recognizes Helen. When he
does his eyes take in the scene. For a second he looks her in the eye, an expression of disbelief followed by anger. Connie
turns to see what has attracted his attention and seeing that it is Helen, she slides her arm round Doug’s neck and pulls
him towards her. They roll loosely together, Connie laughing as if she hasn’t a care in the world. Alan too has recognized
Connie but now, as she turns away, he renews his assault on Helen. Her panties rip easily under his hungry fingers.

The darkness closes in over Helen, she is weak with trying to resist the onslaught. “Keep still or I’ll do for you,” he hisses
in her ear.

Suddenly Helen hears a scream of fury that echoes around them. Above her, out of the darkness, Beth’s face suddenly appears.
The little girl is screaming, over and over and over again, as if she will never stop. Her lungs heaving with the effort,
her face contorted in fury, she hurls herself towards Alan. “Get off her! Get off! Get off my sister, you big bugger.”

Alan kicks out at the child, sending her sprawling at the foot of one of the pier supports, but Beth gets up again and, heedless
of her injuries, renews her attack. It is an unequal struggle. Alan reaches out a lazy arm and pushes her away. “Bugger off,
you bloody cripple.”

Beth renews her onslaught, her fury reaching new heights. She leaps like a tiger, kicking and punching until she is breathless.
Her fingers claw at his face and her feet thud into his flesh. This frenzied attack has drawn the attention of other couples
who look on bemused. There’s a parting of embraces as strangers turn and take in the sight. It is only when Beth begins to
shout for help that Alan hesitates. He pauses, releasing his hold on Helen’s arms and half turns towards the snarling, screaming
child. At last Helen struggles free and crawls towards the light, her face pitted with sand, her cheeks stained with mascara
and her mouth bloody.

There are all sorts of unusual sights you might see at the seaside. A wreck is one of the saddest. Boats that have run aground
on sandbanks may be floated again at the next tide. But a ship that has been driven on to the rocks is more serious. When
this happens the only question to be asked is “What can be salvaged?” What unusual sights have you spotted at the seaside?
Score 20 points for anything you can salvage.

R
uth makes her way back to the hotel conservatory at a smart pace, leaving Cora hurrying in her wake.

“Ruth! What a welcome return,” Ronald says, getting to his feet. Glancing at Cora, he adds, “Nothing wrong, I hope.”

“No, not at all. I just wanted to thank you both for your hospitality but it is time we left. Where’s Jack?”

“I imagine he decided to wait for you outside. I fear I may have offended him. I hope we haven’t upset you as well?” Ronald
asks, his face wreathed in apparent concern. “Forgive me, I hadn’t meant to interfere. I was merely congratulating Jack on
his promotion to manager of Prospect Mill. He didn’t seem to want to discuss it.” Ronald pauses, waiting for a reaction. Ruth
stands openmouthed, staring in disbelief. “Oh, didn’t you know?” Ronald says. “Jack been keeping it quiet, has he? Still,
I’ve only known for a week.”

Ruth finds her voice. “Of course I knew.”

“Of course,” Ronald agrees in a condescending tone. “Of course.”

Glancing around the room, he snaps his fingers. “Here, let me get the bellboy to see you out.”

“There’s no need,” Ruth assures him. “Good afternoon.” She turns away and walks quickly to the door.

Ruth doesn’t speak until they are well clear of the hotel and walking back down the avenue of limes. A piece of gravel has
lodged itself under the canvas at the side of her shoe but she’s too angry to stop and shake it free.

“What’s got into you?” Jack asks. “You’ve a face like thunder, which is rich considering it was you who wanted to come in
the first place. Given a choice, I’d have been happier with a poke in the eye from a sharp stick.”

Ruth interrupts: “What happened with you and Ronald? Why were you standing outside?”

“Oh, nothing. He was just being his usual obnoxious self. Will you slow down, Ruth? If you keep this pace up we’ll make it
back to the hotel before the tram.”

Ruth stops dead and glares at her husband. “You’ve been made up to manager, haven’t you?”

“Well…”

“Haven’t you!”

“Well, yes, in a way. It’s been…”

“Just this once, Jack, tell me the truth.”

“What do you mean by that? I’ve not lied to you, Ruth. OK, Fosters have offered me the job. I was going to tell you after
we’d finished with the Lloyds. This is the first time we’ve been alone without the girls for ages.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before? Why did I have to hear it from Ronald, a near stranger?”

“I haven’t known about it that long.”

“Ronald heard last week.”

“Well, I only got wind of it recently. I didn’t tell you immediately because you were so flustered about Beth when I got home.
And later we were both busy getting the house straight and the bags packed for the holiday. I felt I needed time to think
about it before I started bothering you with it.”

“And what about allowing me to think about it? What about discussing it with me?”

“Well, I was going to.”

“You’re lying. You were only going to tell me once you’d made up your mind.”

“I haven’t said anything to John Foster yet.”

“You haven’t been at work to see him.”

“Bloomin’ ’eck, Ruth. We can talk about it till kingdom come, but in the end it’s still me who has to do the job.”

“Well, are you going to take it or are you sticking with the Union?”