when he’s down on the beach,’ said Jack.
Dottie walked around the back and, grabbing hold of Tom’s hand, clambered over the side of the lorry. ‘Poor little Gary still doesn’t seem very happy,’ she said as she sat next to Mary. ‘What’s the matter with him?’
‘Peaches reckons he’s got a bit of a cold,’ said Mary, shaking her head. ‘He’s been like it since Saturday.’ And turning to one of her children, she said sharply, ‘Put your arm in Susan. If you hit something while we’re moving you’ll do yourself a mischief.’
Maureen had gravitated to Dottie’s lap. It felt good holding her. Dottie enveloped her in her arms, enjoying the feel of her warm little body and the faint vinegar smell of her shiny clean hair, soft as down next to her cheek. The old yearning flooded over her again. If only she could have a child of her own …
‘I love you, Auntie Dottie,’ Maureen lisped.
‘And I love you too, darling,’ said Dottie with feeling.
The drive to Littlehampton was very pleasant. They all sang silly songs, ‘Ten green bottles, hanging on the wall, Ten green bottles, hanging on the wall, and if one green bottle should accidentl’y fall … there’ll be nine green bottles hanging on the wall,’ was one and the other was ‘There was ten in the bed and the little one said, ‘Roll over, rollover.’ So they all rolled over and one fell out, there was nine in the bed and the little one said …’ and they clung to each other, laughing whenever Jack took a corner fast.
Forty-five minutes later, they pulled up on the seafront. Tom was the first to jump down. He helped Mary and the kids and then lifted Dottie down. Everybody, except Reg, grabbed a bag and they made their way onto the sand. The warm weather and the Carnival had brought everyone out. The beach was already very crowded. In fact it was difficult to find a stretch of sand big enough for all of them to be together, but eventually they did and luckily it was fairly near the promenade. Dottie pointed out the toilets beyond. ‘Handy for the kids,’ said Mary, giving her a nudge.
Tom and Jack brought some deckchairs down and the adults made themselves comfortable. As for the children, they couldn’t wait to get into the water. Mary stripped them down to their little ruched bathing costumes and knitted swimming trunks and let them go. ‘Make sure you look after them,’ she told Billy.
Knowing they’d soon get bored, Dottie went up top and bought six buckets and spades from the kiosk along the promenade. The children were thrilled to bits.
‘You shouldn’t have spent all that money, hen,’ Mary scolded. ‘They must have cost you a fortune.’
‘They were only one and eleven each,’ said Dottie happily. ‘And besides, it was my pleasure.’
‘What do you say?’ Mary demanded of her children.
Five happy faces looked in her direction and chorused, ‘Thank you, Auntie Dottie.’
Reg gave Dottie a dirty look but just then Jack and Tom appeared with the crate of beer and fizzy pop.
‘Hope you’ve remembered a bottle opener,’ Reg remarked as he tied a knot in each corner of his handkerchief to make a sun hat. He had already bagged a deckchair and placed himself on the edge of the group.
Everyone looked helplessly from one to the other until Peaches rummaged in her handbag and produced one. ‘Thank the Lord for that,’ laughed Jack as he set about offering the bottles around and removing the tops.
When it came to her turn, Peaches shook her head. ‘I’d sooner have a cuppa.’
‘Then look no further,’ smiled Dottie, reaching for her Thermos flask.
In the end, the men had beer, the women had a cup of tea and the kids shared from a big bottle of cherryade with a replaceable glass stopper.
‘Can I take the empties back to the off-licence and get the tuppence, Mum?’ asked Billy.
‘We haven’t emptied the buggers yet,’ laughed Tom.
‘Language,’ said Mary.
‘Whoops, sorry love.’
The deckchair attendant turned up. Reg appeared to be asleep, so Tom parted with three bob. ‘He didn’t waste much time,’ he grumbled good-naturedly.
The sea glistened in the bright sunlight and the air was filled with the happy shouts of excited children. Dottie kicked off her shoes and let the sand get between her bare toes. Mary’s kids kept themselves amused for hours, making sandcastles and running to the sea with their new buckets to get water for the moat.
Little Gary joined in for a while but it was obvious he wasn’t really feeling well. It didn’t take long before he was all curled up on Mary’s lap with his thumb in his mouth.
At one o’clock they ate their lunch: egg sandwiches, bloater paste sandwiches and cheese sandwiches; but no matter how hard they tried, they all ended up with a little sand on them. Mary handed round some of her fruitcake and Dottie offered them some Victoria sponge. Then they made the kids lay down for a rest. The little ones were shaded by the deckchairs or a blanket suspended between the chairs as they lay underneath.
‘I reckon you should have gone in for the Miss Littlehampton, Dottie,’ said Tom holding out his newspaper. ‘You’re better-looking than that June Hadden any day.’
‘Oh, Tom,’ laughed Dottie. ‘I’m a married woman!’
‘So is she,’ said Mary. ‘She’s a mother of two.’
‘Have a go at the Miss Sussex competition.’ Tom encouraged. ‘That feller from Variety Bandbox is going to crown the winner. Derek Roy.’
‘I don’t think Reg …’ Dottie began.
‘Reg won’t mind, will you, Reg?’
Reg had been lying back in the deckchair with his eyes closed. He opened them to find everyone staring at him, willing him to agree.
‘What, and make a fool of herself?’
‘Your Dottie is a real smasher, Reg,’ Tom protested.
‘Come on, Reg,’ said Mary. ‘Be a sport.’
Reg’s eyes narrowed and Dottie laid her hand on Mary’s arm.
‘Who’s for ice cream?’ said Jack and a chorus of little voices, all wide-awake now, cried out, ‘Me, me!’
‘Good timing, Jack,’ grinned Peaches.
After their ice creams, Gary, Connie and Christopher slept for upwards of an hour while Susan and Maureen managed half an hour. Billy was allowed to go to play by the water’s edge as soon as the others were asleep. Dottie walked with him, not only to keep an eye on him, but also to have a bit of a paddle herself.
She and Billy had a special relationship. He was only little when his dad died but until Tom Prior came along, he’d so desperately tried to do what everyone told him and be the man of the house. He was fiercely protective of his mum. Dottie had never ever told Mary how he’d cried the day of their wedding. His mother and Tom were off on honeymoon – an afternoon at the pictures in Brighton – and Dottie was looking after Billy, Maureen and Susan in their new home. The babies were sleeping and she’d thought Billy was quite happy playing with his toy farmyard but all at once he’d burst into tears. At first she’d thought it was because he was jealous of Tom: after all, he’d had his mother to himself for most of his life. Up until the time Billy’s father was killed, the war had meant that, apart from a couple of periods of leave, Billy had hardly ever seen him. But as she comforted him, Dottie realised the child had taken his ‘job’ as ‘man of the house’ so seriously, that the tears were tears of relief. Now at last Tom could have the responsibility of looking after his mother.
As she and Billy paddled in the water, Reg, his trouser legs rolled up to his calves, came to join them.
Earlier that morning, Dottie had been thinking