Beach Hut Surprise: Escape to Little Piddling this summer — six feel-good beach reads to make you smile, or even laugh out loud

by Libertà Books

  They saw no other cyclists on their route, and only a few walkers making the steep climb to the cliff top. When they reached Piddling Point, they stopped and walked to the cliff edge to take in the view. Below them, Piddling Bay basked in the sunshine.

  Millicent took in a deep breath.

  "Oh, Rudolph, isn't it wonderful up here? And look, you can see the beach huts." She laughed. "From here they look like a selection of my favourite fruit drops."

  "Yes, very colourful." Rudolph could not help thinking that Rassendyll looked more like a treacle toffee in the middle of the row. "We should be getting back now. Come along, it will be easier going downhill."

  "No, wait." Millicent touched his arm. "The lady over there. I think she is crying."

  Rudolph glanced across at the woman. She was dressed in a black bombazine gown and bonnet and was standing near the cliff edge, looking out to sea. Unlike his mother's ethereal appearance, this widow presented a substantial figure and, although she was mopping her cheeks with a black-edged handkerchief, there was a determined look upon her strong features. He thought she looked to be the sort of matron who demanded young men move out of her way, or waved an umbrella angrily if they passed too close on their bicycle.

  "Well, it is none of our business," he muttered. "We really should not intrude upon her private grief. Come along…"

  "Oh, but we should at least ask if she needs help," replied the soft-hearted Millicent. "We cannot walk away and ignore her."

  Before Rudolph had time to argue, she moved towards the woman.

  "I do beg your pardon," she addressed the woman with kindly diffidence, "but I could not help noticing that you are distressed. Is there anything we can do?"

  The matron finished wiping her eyes and turned to look at Millicent. It was a very considering look, and Rudolph kept his distance, feeling uncomfortable.

  "That is very good of you," replied the widow, pushing her handkerchief back into her bag. "But there is nothing to be done, thank you."

  That was good enough for Rudolph. He touched Millicent's arm and muttered that they should withdraw, but she ignored him and took a step closer to the woman.

  "Oh, but it must be something to make you so unhappy," she said softly. "Sometimes it does one good to speak of it. In confidence, of course."

  Rudolph braced himself for a rebuttal, ready to carry Millicent away, but the lady merely regarded Millicent for another long moment, then she sighed.

  "It is my son," she said at last. "He died, four years ago."

  "Oh, I am so very sorry." There was genuine sadness in Millicent's voice. "Was this a favourite spot of his?"

  The woman shook her head. "No, but I come up here on the anniversary of his death to remember him. To see where he took his last swim. He loved the water, you see, and he became sick and died after swimming in the bay. He was only four and twenty."

  "Oh, bad luck," murmured Rudolph, who was anxious now to set off on the return ride.

  The old woman fixed him with a stare.

  "Not bad luck at all, young man. It was due to poor sanitation. The outfall pipe for Little Piddling should extend beyond this headland, but it does not. It ends in line with Piddling Point and at certain times of the year, instead of being dispersed out into the sea, the effluent is washed back into the bay."

  "But that is dreadful!" exclaimed Millicent. "The council should do something about it."

  She looked to Rudolph, who spluttered, "I only work in the archives; I have no influence with the council at all."

  "Perhaps Sir Hereward could help," Millicent suggested.

  The widow gave a snort. "He could, but he won't, and the council are too frightened to go against him. Our Mayor will only support causes that reflect well upon him, such as this ludicrous idea of changing the town's name."

  These disparaging remarks about what had, after all, been his idea, caused Rudolph to feel a certain amount of indignation, but it was somewhat diluted because he shared the woman's animosity towards Sir Hereward.

  "I beg your pardon, I should not be taking your time with all this." The widow touched Millicent's arm and gave her a tiny smile. "But you are right, my dear, it has helped me to talk of it."

  With that, the woman walked off.

  "Oh, my goodness, what a tragedy." Millicent sighed as she accompanied Rudolph back to their bicycles. "I believe Mr Bretherson recently suggested they should make improvements to the sewage disposal system, but the council would not authorise further expenditure because Sir Hereward was so against it. Father came home and told Mama all about it and he almost never tells us anything about council business, which just shows how put out he was, doesn't it?"

  Rudolph muttered sympathetic noises. The widow's complaint gave an added sense of justice to his own resentment against Sir Hereward, but, really, there was little he could do about it, except redouble his efforts to find a way to be revenged upon the Mayor.

  The problem of revenge continued to haunt Rudolph. Every time he heard talk of the new town name—and it was mentioned a great deal in the Town Hall—he felt more aggrieved. How he longed for the days when one could challenge a fellow to a duel. Not that he had ever learned to fence, of course, and the idea of using a pistol was quite abhorrent, but he could not deny that defending one's honour with one's life had a very noble ring to it.

  Two days after the outing to Piddling Point, Rudolph was returning a box of papers to the Archive when he saw Albert Kettlesing hurrying down the corridor. Albert worked in the mailroom at the Town Hall and generally had a cheery word for everyone, but today he was clearly agitated. However, when Rudolph paused to ask him what was the matter, Albert merely waved him aside.

  "I cannot stop now, Mr Spendlove. I promised Mr Simister I would deliver these before the end of the day." He waved the letters in his hand and added importantly, "There's one for the sign-makers and one for Mr Lamb the stonemason."

  Rudolph ground his teeth. There it was again, another twist of the knife. But it was not Albert's fault, after all, so he replied pleasantly. "Oh, well, there is plenty of time for that. It is not yet four o'clock."

  "No, no, it is not getting them there," replied Albert, edging past him. "It is getting home afterwards. You see, I am taking Millicent Simister to the theatre tonight, to see Floradora, and I don't want to be late."

  Rudolph blinked, his feeling of ill usage rising again. He had invited Millicent to go with him to see the musical comedy and she had refused. Rage boiled through him, heating his blood, filling his lungs with hot, angry breath, but it also scoured his brain of its fog and he saw with blinding clarity what he had to do. He caught Albert's arm.

  "I can deliver them for you, if you like. That way you can get home in plenty of time to prepare for your evening out."

  "Would you? That would be really kind of you, Mr Spendlove. Thank you."

  Albert thrust the letters into his hand and went back to the postroom, whistling. Smiling, Rudolph watched him, then he continued on his way to the archives, his fingers twirling the ends of his moustache.

  A period of unsettled weather prevented Rudolph and Millicent riding out together and it was almost two weeks before they met again, when they rode to the tea rooms in Much Piddling. This had been a daring suggestion of Rudolph's, but he was inordinately pleased when Millicent agreed to it. During the past weeks, his feelings had been swinging erratically between hope and despair. He was morbidly afraid Millicent might prefer Albert Kettlesing's company to his own, but surely, the fact that she had agreed to spend the whole of Saturday riding out with him was a cause for optimism?

  Millicent certainly appeared to be in good spirits when they rode out from Cosmo Terrace, and by the time they were cycling along the lanes out of the town, Rudolph could stand the suspense no longer. He asked how she had enjoyed her visit to the theatre.

  "Oh, you mean Floradora?" She glanced across at him, which made her wobble.

  "Yes. Kettlesing told me he was taking you." He tried to kee
p the accusing tone from his voice but was not quite successful.

  "I beg your pardon, Rudolph, but Albert invited me weeks ago. I should have told you that was the reason I could not go with you, but I thought you might be jealous."

  "Me, jealous of Albert Kettlesing? Good heavens, no."

  "Oh, I am glad about that," she declared, smiling with relief.

  "And, did you enjoy Floradora?"

  "Oh, yes," she replied sunnily. "As did Albert. He is such a comic and takes nothing seriously, does he?"

  "No, he doesn't." Rudolph missed the doubtful note in her voice and his jealousy grew.

  Kettlesing's endless joking was something Rudolph disliked intensely. It grated on his nerves and he thought it would serve the fellow right if he came to grief over it one day.

  "It is less than a week now to the Little Piddling Festival," said Millicent, breaking into his reverie. "You will be there on the Friday, I suppose? Father says Sir Hereward has asked all the council to attend."

  "What? Oh, the unveiling of the new town signs. Yes, yes of course."

  "Mother has bought me a new dress to wear," Millicent went on. "Jonquil yellow. I only hope the sun shines and I do not have to cover it with a coat."

  She chattered on and Rudolph responded suitably, but he was very glad when at last they reached Much Piddling and the busy streets gave them something else to think about. He treated Millicent to tea and cakes, and they cycled back in perfect harmony. It was only when Rudolph reached home that his sunny spirits dimmed slightly.

  He wished he still felt as enthusiastic about his plan for revenge as he had a few weeks ago. As he went upstairs to change, he admitted to himself that he had been worrying about it almost since the day he delivered those letters for Kettlesing. When the truth came out, everyone would say that it was just the sort of thing Albert would do. They would be only too willing to believe it; and Rudolph was not sure if his conscience would allow him to let the fellow take the blame. Even if they were rivals for Miss Simister's affections.

  Rudolph moved to the mirror and began to brush his hair. If he was to be completely honest, he was beginning to have doubts about the course of action upon which he had embarked. However, there was no way he could withdraw now without confessing the whole, which would not only cause him great personal humiliation, but it would almost certainly cost him his position as Town Archivist. Then what would Mother say?

  Forget your mother, what would Rupert of Hentzau say?

  The thought stopped Rudolph in his tracks and he stopped brushing. He snatched off his glasses and gazed, albeit somewhat myopically, at his reflection. With his dark hair swept back, and his waxed moustache now beginning to curl up very nicely at the ends, he looked very much like his vision of Rupert of Hentzau. He reminded himself that Rupert was the villain of The Prisoner of Zenda. He would not consult his mother about how to behave. A villain would also throw an innocent man to the dogs without compunction to achieve his ends.

  Rudolph tried curling his lip and was quite pleased with the result. He replaced his glasses and went off to join his mother for dinner. No, he would have his revenge upon Sir Hereward and…and to the devil with the rest of them.

  Chapter Three

  It was the first day of the Summer Festival. The day when, at noon, Sir Hereward would announce to the world that the town was no longer Little Piddling, but Little Piddling sur Mer. A week ago, the metal uprights for the signs had been erected on the roads leading into the town and the sign-makers had agreed they would not attach the new signs until twelve o'clock, by which time Sir Hereward expected the townspeople and invited dignitaries from neighbouring Much Piddling to be gathered outside Jubilee Gardens ready for the Great Unveiling. Even the monument, which had been carefully secured in place overnight, was shrouded in a thick linen sheet to prevent anyone enjoying its full glory before Sir Hereward had made his speech.

  It was a beautiful July day and in Cosmo Terrace, Rudolph and his mother left their house just as the Simisters were setting off and together they made their way through Jubilee Gardens to witness the unveiling.

  They spilled out of the gardens to find crowds already milling around the western end of the promenade, where a sparkling blue sea provided a stunning backdrop for the brass band that was playing jolly tunes, accompanied by the noisy gulls wheeling overhead.

  Rudolph had spent hours before his mirror, perfecting his lip curl, ready to sneer at Sir Hereward's humiliation. Even the sight of Millicent in her yellow gown and chip straw hat could not quite overcome his excitement at what was to come.

  A large area had been roped off, with red carpet placed before the monument for the Mayor and his invited guests, and space reserved behind it for members of the town council and their families, from where they would have an excellent view of the proceedings.

  By eleven-thirty the promenade was filling up. Whole families were arriving, as much to listen to the band and take advantage of the summer sunshine as to witness the unveiling, Rudolph thought. Albert Kettlesing sauntered up, his hat pushed back at a jaunty angle. He waved at Millicent, who responded with a smile, and Rudolph felt the demon jealousy stabbing at his chest again. Once the town name was revealed, Sir Hereward would be looking for someone to blame. Then Kettlesing would find he did not have much to smile about.

  The Mayoral party arrived, the gentlemen in their black frockcoats and toppers quite outshone by the ladies in their colourful dresses and large brimmed hats trimmed with lace and flowers. The Arbuttles arrived and Rudolph touched his hat to them while his mother made room beside her.

  "Such a splendid day for it, Mrs Arbuttle," she declared, then dropped her voice a little. "I thought Sir Hereward might have invited you to join his party, you being such a good friend of Lady Wakeleigh."

  A look of disapproval shadowed Mr Arbuttle's kindly face.

  "We should have been," he said heavily. "Our names were on the original invitation list, but it was changed at the last minute."

  His wife turned to Mrs Spendlove. "Dora Wakeleigh was most put out about it. She made a point of apologising to me, and told me herself that it was Sir Hereward who decided the matter. He is negotiating something with Mr Dumaine and wanted to keep him sweet."

  "Is he really?" replied Mrs Spendlove, looking suitably outraged. "And Hermione Dumaine no better than she should be."

  "Quite." Mrs Arbuttle took her husband's arm. "I wouldn't wish her anywhere near my Sydney."

  Mrs Spendlove gave a very audible sniff. "She is a member of the Waifs and Orphans Relief Committee, too, but I have it on good authority that she has a closer connection to some of those waifs than she admits."

  Mrs Arbuttle stifled a very unladylike giggle.

  "Mother, really!" Rudolph protested, flushing.

  Mrs Spendlove spread her hands. "I am only saying what I have heard, my dear. Why, you only have to look at her, flirting with Sir Hereward. And right in front of her husband, too. Look at them, it is outrageous."

  Obediently, they all turned to look at the ripe brunette in the cherry-blossom pink coat. She was laughing up at Sir Hereward while behind her Lady Wakeleigh was struggling to make conversation with Mr Dumaine, who appeared quite bored by the whole proceedings.

  "You are far better off here with us, Mrs Arbuttle," said Mrs Spendlove, patting her arm. "We shall be a very jolly party, and afterwards you must come back with us to Cosmo Terrace for tea."

  Rudolph's attention wandered. He looked around to find that Mr and Mrs Simister had moved away, and he had only Millicent standing beside him.

  "Lady Wakeleigh is to unveil the monument," he explained as they watched the Mayor organising his little party on the red carpet. His eye was caught by a mild commotion at the edge of the crowds. "And that is old Lady Bosomworth's carriage drawing up. I did not think to see her here today, not since the council changed its mind about a statue to her late husband."

  "Lucinda told me she only agreed to come because she is convinced Sir Herewa
rd will make a fool of himself," said Millicent.

  "How right she is," thought Rudolph.

  He had not imagined there would be such a large crowd but he was glad of it. The more people who witnessed the Mayor's very public humiliation the better.

  Millicent broke into his thoughts with an exclamation.

  "Sir Hereward is about to speak." She placed one dainty hand in its white net glove upon his arm. "Oh, isn't this exciting?"

  "Yes, it is. And it is going to get a great deal more exciting yet."

  Rudolph was very pleased with his drawl, very suitable for one who had masterminded the forthcoming debacle. He had wondered if he would actually be able to achieve a demonic laugh to fill the silence that was sure to follow the unveiling, but now, standing here with the beautiful Millicent on his arm and the sun shining down upon him, he thought he could achieve anything today.

  Sir Hereward had moved to the small dais in front of the monument and was making his speech, thanking his honoured guests and describing in detail Little Piddling's maritime history. Rudolph had heard it all before—indeed had he not provided all the information?

  As the Mayor droned on, Rudolph glanced down at Milly's hand, noting the small gap between the embroidered edge of her glove and her sleeve. Not now, perhaps (especially with Mother and Mrs Simister standing so close) but later, he would raise her hand and place a kiss upon the delicate skin of her inner wrist.

  "And now, ladies and gentlemen, it is my pleasure—nay, my honour—to announce that henceforth, our magnificent town will be known as Little Piddling sur Mer!"

  Even the Mayor's stentorian declaration was not enough to break into Rudolph's pleasant daydream. Millicent would blush adorably and raise her beautiful eyes to his face. Then she would say―