We'll Meet Again. Patricia Burns

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       CHAPTER SIX

      ON THE very last day of the holiday, Tom’s family went out to lunch at the Grand Hotel. It was far too stiff and starchy a place for Tom or the children to find enjoyable, but the grown-ups seemed to like it, and talked a lot about keeping up standards despite there being a war on. In the afternoon it rained and Tom was dragooned into playing an interminable game of ludo with the others. And then they had a visitor, or, rather, two visitors. Beryl and her little brother came tramping on to the veranda in their macs and wellingtons. Tom’s heart sank when he heard their voices, but the mothers greeted them kindly.

      ‘Beryl, dear, how nice to see you. And Timmy too. Is your mother coming?’

      ‘No, she’s gone to the Whist Drive, so she asked me to look after Timmy. He wanted to come here so much that I had to bring him. I hope you don’t mind,’ she said.

      ‘Of course not. The children love playing with Timmy,’ Tom’s mother said.

      ‘Perhaps you’d like some lemonade,’ his aunt offered.

      ‘I’d rather have a cup of tea,’ Beryl answered.

      And so it was that Tom found himself sitting with Beryl and the grown-ups drinking tea. He glowered at her across the table. How could she sit there so calm and po-faced when she’d gone and told on him and Annie?

      The two mothers chatted on about Wittlesham and holidays.

      ‘We’ve enjoyed it so much here at Silver Sands that we’re thinking of coming back next year,’ Tom’s aunty Betty said.

      ‘That’s nice. My mother will be pleased to hear that. Not many people are going on holiday this year, on account of the war. We haven’t got any more bookings for Silver Sands this summer. My mother thinks you’re all very brave to be coming away,’ Beryl said, looking at Tom.

      Tom looked away.

      ‘We’re not going to let that Hitler stop us from having our usual family holiday,’ Tom’s mother said. ‘That would be giving in to bullying.’

      ‘Lots of people are letting him stop them. It’s really quiet here this summer. Of course, we don’t depend on the lettings. My father has a factory, you know, making parts for the radios in bombers—’

      Both women looked suitably impressed. Tom did not.

      ‘So Silver Sands is just a sideline. My mother says it’s her pin money project, but it’s a good thing it’s within walking distance as we can’t run our car any more. My father’s stood it up on bricks in the garage. For the duration, he says.’

      Tom could see why Annie loathed her. She was out to impress them at every turn. When his mother mentioned the Grand, Beryl had been there too, and went on about only going to the best places. What was more, she seemed to be directing it at him. She was for ever looking at him as if to see what sort of an impression she was making. It was time to put her in her place.

      ‘The rain’s stopped. Coming to the top of the sea wall?’ he asked the moment tea was over.

      As if pulled by strings, Beryl sprang out of her chair.

      ‘All right,’ she said, and trotted after him as he ran down the steps and strode out of the garden. Once outside, he didn’t make for the sea wall, but instead skirted one of the other chalets, so that nobody at Silver Sands could see them. Then he stopped so suddenly that Beryl nearly cannoned into him.

      ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ he demanded.

      Guilt was written all over her face.

      ‘W-what?’ she said.

      ‘It was you who was spying on me and Annie. Prying into other people’s business and then going and telling.’

      Just talking about it made him furious all over again.

      Beryl tried to make her face look blank.

      ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’