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

  "Oh, Rudolph, look. The rope has snagged."

  It was true. The cord had been designed so that a single tug would allow the sheet to fall gently into soft artistic folds at the base of the monument. However, when Lady Wakeleigh pulled at the tasselled end of the rope, nothing happened. Rudolph watched Sir Hereward stride forward and could almost hear him muttering, "Can you do nothing right?"

  A quiet buzz of chatter could be heard as Mr Lamb and his assistant ran out of the crowd to help. They busied themselves with the rope, gave it a few tentative flicks, then nodded at the Mayor and retired again. Sir Hereward tried to make a joke of it, called everyone to order and invited his lady once more to unveil the monument.

  This time Lady Wakeleigh's efforts were rewarded and as the cloth fluttered down, there were cheers and a smattering of applause from the crowds.

  "And there we are, ladies and gentlemen!" the Mayor's voice boomed out as he turned towards the monument. "I have great pleasure in announcing that from today, visitors to our wonderful town will be greeted by this grand edifice. The inscription reads, Welcome to Little Piddling sur…"

  His voice faded to silence. Even from a distance Rudolph could see the angry colour suffusing his cheeks. Those who were close enough to see the bold lettering on the monument began to mutter.

  "Come on," shouted someone from the back of the crowd. "Finish your speech, why don't you?"

  Sir Hereward himself had all the appearance of stone as he stared at the monument. Not so Mr Dumaine, who stepped up and read the inscription, his voice carrying with dreadful clarity over the crowd.

  "Welcome to Little Piddling sur Merde!"

  And with that, he burst out laughing.

  Chapter Four

  Rudolph did not know what he had expected to happen once the monument was unveiled, but for several moments, chaos reigned. A few people in the crowd began to laugh; those in the mayoral party looked dumbfounded. He stepped over the rope and moved a little closer in order to hear what was being said.

  "I don't understand," cried Lady Wakeleigh, casting a bewildered look towards her husband. "Is this not what you ordered?"

  Sir Hereward opened and closed his mouth in silence and looked as if he might be carried off by apoplexy at any moment.

  "I sincerely hope not," said Mr Dumaine, between laughter and contempt. "Merde in French means—"

  "Yes, yes, that is quite enough of that," snapped Sir Hereward, interrupting him. "Of course I did not order this."

  "Oh yes, you did," said Mr Lamb, coming up. "That's exactly what it said on the order. I've got it here in me pocket, if you don't believe me."

  "Poppycock! Where's Simister?" Sir Hereward spotted his quarry and beckoned imperiously. "Come here, man, and tell me, what is the meaning of this?"

  "I-I really don't know how this could have happened, sir," stammered the hapless Clerk to the Council, who was as white as his shirt.

  Mr Lamb drew a paper from his pocket and looked from it to the inscription.

  "But what's wrong with it?" he demanded, scratching his head. "The lettering's right. Spaces are in the right place."

  "It should read Mer, not Merde!" barked Sir Hereward. "It means Little Piddling on Sea, not Little Piddling on-on…"

  "Sewage," put in Mr Dumaine helpfully.

  Mr Lamb moved closer, eager to ensure that no blame for the error was foisted on him. Rudolph loitered and listened, twirling the ends of his moustache. The crowd was chattering now, the occasional shout of laughter ringing out whenever the translation from the French was explained to someone new, while Sir Hereward was growing ever more red in the face. It was all going very nicely. Very nicely indeed. He glanced across to where his mother was standing with Mrs Simister and Millicent. Soon he would be able to leave Sir Hereward to his chagrin and turn his attention to something far more pleasurable. Courting the lovely Millicent.

  "Where's Kettlesing?" Mr Simister waved towards the crowd. "Albert, come here, if you please."

  The post boy ran up and Sir Hereward pounced on him.

  "So it's all your fault. You are the one who delivered the orders. I suppose you thought it was a fine trick to play, eh? Well, see if you think it's so fine to be out of work. You are dismissed, my boy. With immediate effect."

  "What? But I—"

  "Enough! I want none of your excuses."

  It was then that the enormity of his plan hit home to Rudolph. In his dreams, the incorrect spelling of the town name should have led to much hilarity and ridicule for Sir Hereward, and perhaps a reprimand for Albert, but he had not considered that anyone would lose their post.

  What of it?

  The demon on his shoulder dismissed his scruples. Rudolph looked at Millicent, her hands pressed against her mouth and a look of horror on her face. He must escort her away, along with Mother and Mrs Simister. These ugly scenes should not be witnessed by gently-nurtured ladies.

  Kettlesing was looking very shocked, and a little grey, too, as Sir Hereward continued to hurl insults at him. If Albert admitted that he had given the letters to Rudolph to deliver, he could always deny it. After all, he had been Town Archivist for the past ten years. Everyone would believe his word over that of a mere post boy.

  You have had your revenge. Take the ladies home and leave the fool to his fate.

  Rudolph twirled the ends of his moustache, for the first time in his life feeling very much like the character from a novel. He straightened his shoulders and stepped forward.

  "Stop this!" His voice, usually a little thin, had found a hitherto unknown bass note and it boomed out, causing those gathered on the red carpet to freeze and fall silent. "It was not Kettlesing who scuppered your plans, Mr Mayor, it was I. I, Rudolph Rass— I mean Rudolph Spendlove."

  He would normally have quailed to find so many eyes fixed upon him, but now he was fired up with energy and he gazed about him with haughty arrogance.

  "I persuaded Albert to give me the letters and I made a few little alterations before I delivered them."

  "Them?" Mr Simister stopped him. "Do you mean, the road signs, too?"

  "Oh, yes," Rudolph declared grandly. "Everyone coming into the town will see them."

  Sir Hereward gave an angry roar. "I see what this is, Spendlove. You think you deserved some recognition for looking up the town's history. You-you sabotaged my grand design out of spite!"

  Rudolph was about to say that was it exactly, but at that moment he saw a black-clad figure in the crowd and recognised her as the widow he and Millicent had met at Piddling Point.

  "I may have felt a little aggrieved that you stole my suggestion and passed off all my arguments as your own, but that is not it. No," he declared, warming to his theme. "I did this because this town should be called Little Piddling sur Merde." He raised his voice and addressed the crowd still gathered on the promenade. "The waters of our beloved bay have been allowed to become polluted, ladies and gentlemen. They are not safe for swimming."

  "What nonsense!" blustered the Mayor. "Our waters are as clean as any on the south coast."

  "Are they? The outflow pipe should continue some way past Piddling point, but in fact it stops short." Rupert swung round and pointed toward the council members gathered in the reserved area. "Ask them if it was not proposed that this should be rectified at the same time as the public conveniences were refurbished. And ask them who it was vetoed the proposal and declared it too costly."

  "Aye, I remember," muttered Mr Arbuttle, nodding.

  "Yes," Rudolph continued, encouraged. "Rather than spending good money on a costly monument to bolster your own self-aggrandisement, Mr Mayor, you should be encouraging the Council to improve the town's sewage system."

  Rudolph drew in a deep breath, slightly shocked at his own eloquence. A murmur of agreement was rippling through the crowd and he saw that the widow was nodding her approval. He was trying to smile back at her when, with a bellow of pure rage, Sir Hereward flew at Rudolph and floored him with a hefty punch to the chin.r />
  "No!"

  Rudolph heard Millicent's shriek as he fell. Thankfully, he landed on the carpet rather than the hard ground but nevertheless, he was too shaken and dazed to do anything but lie still for a few moments. He groped for his glasses and, by the time he had retrieved them and breathed a sigh of relief that they were unscathed, Millicent was kneeling beside him, brandishing her rolled parasol at Sir Hereward like a sword.

  "How dare you assault a poor innocent man, you-you bully!"

  "Innocent!" Sir Hereward spluttered, incandescent with rage. "He has not only insulted me, he has cast a slight upon the whole town."

  He took a step closer. Millicent screamed, and Mr Simister grabbed at Sir Hereward's arm to restrain him.

  Lady Wakeleigh appeared. "Come away, dear, this is not good for your heart."

  "Let go of me. It isn't my heart that's at risk here, it's my reputation."

  Rudolph was climbing gingerly to his feet. He would have liked to say he could manage without Millicent's help but, in truth, her support was very necessary. Part of him—the old Rudolph—wanted to offer a grovelling apology, but that would undo everything he had achieved. He kept silent.

  Mr Lamb and his assistant were already busy putting the cover back over the monument and the local constables were encouraging the crowds to disperse.

  Rudolph stared at the Mayor, who was scowling direfully.

  "You haven't heard the last of this, Spendlove. I'll see you are dismissed. I'll have you chased out of town—"

  "Plenty of time for that later, Sir Hereward," muttered Mr Simister. "Best not to give the crowds anything else to gossip about just now."

  The Mayor recollected himself and, after another baleful glance at Rudolph, he stormed off.

  "Come along, Millicent, we must find your mother and take her home." Mr Simister turned to Rudolph. "And you had best do the same, my boy. Mrs Spendlove is looking rather shocked."

  Rudolph's elation had quite evaporated by this time. He looked around for his mother. She was still in the reserved area, but whereas others were in little groups, talking animatedly, she was standing a little apart from everyone else and staring at him in horror. Millicent had left his side and gone over to take her father's proffered arm, so Rudolph made his way over to his mother.

  "Oh, how shall I ever live this down?" she cried as he came up to her. "I have never been so humiliated in my life. How could you do such a thing, Rudolph? How could you do such a thing? How could you bring such shame upon our family?"

  She continued in this vein as they made their way to Cosmo Terrace. Never had the walk taken so long. It seemed that everyone they knew was on the streets and they either cast sly glances in their direction or ignored them altogether.

  By the time they reached their door, Mrs Spendlove was beginning to cry and Rudolph could take no more. He escorted his mother into the drawing room, called upon Elsie, her maid, to attend her, then made his excuses and left.

  He had no idea where to go, all he knew was that he needed some time alone, to think. Exacting revenge was clearly far more complicated than he had first thought. His grand plan had upset everyone. Mother was distraught, Millicent wanted nothing more to do with him and his colleagues at the Town Hall would shun him in future. His ex-colleagues, that is, for there was no doubt that he would lose his position now. He was ruined.

  Rudolph stopped. He might as well throw himself off Piddling Point. He turned and set off in the direction of the headland. He strode along, keeping his head down and ignoring everyone he passed. His route took him back to the promenade. The crowds had thinned now and the monument was once again under its shroud. It was very possible that workers had already been dispatched to remove the offending road signs, too. His gesture had been a feeble attempt at revenge. Sir Hereward would suffer a momentary upset and a small financial loss, but in a very short time he would bounce back. The other and unforeseen consequences of his actions were much more serious.

  However, when he reached the end of the promenade and was about to strike out up the hill to the headland, his footsteps slowed. Was Ending it All the answer? Would that not make him a coward as well as a villain?

  Instead of taking to the road up the hill, he struck out towards the beach huts.

  Rudolph was sitting on the floor of Rassendyll Lodge, huddled into a corner, when he heard a soft knock at the door.

  "Rudolph, are you in there? It is me, Millicent."

  She need not have bothered to tell him; he would have recognised her soft mellifluous voice anywhere.

  "Can I come in?" He did not reply, but she opened the door anyway. "Oh, I am so pleased to have found you. Everyone is very worried, you know."

  "Are they?" he shrugged. "I cannot think of anyone who would care what happened to me."

  "Now, there you are wrong," she told him, coming in and closing the door behind her. "Your mother is worried you have done something even more— that is—"

  "Something even more foolish," he finished for her.

  "Well, yes, that was what she said. But Father is worried, too. And Albert made a point of asking after you. He thinks you are quite a gentleman, to stand up for him like that."

  "I could not let him take the blame."

  "No." She sat down beside him. "I was very proud of you for owning up, Rudolph."

  "Were you?"

  "Yes. Many men would have allowed poor Albert to take the blame, and Father says he should have taken the letters himself because they were so important. Then none of this would have happened."

  "But I wanted it to happen, Millicent. I wanted to humiliate Sir Hereward." His hands writhed together as he thought of it. "He came to me, you see, asking me to find something in Little Piddling's history to show that it was a very important place. And I did. I found all the information about its seagoing heritage, and the links with France. I even suggested changing the name. But he did not give me any credit at all. He made out that everything was his idea, his grand plan."

  "It was very wrong of him."

  "That's why I said I would deliver the orders. I retyped them, you see, and made sure any replies would come to me. That way I could stop anyone finding out about the change until it was too late."

  To his surprise, Millicent giggled. "I thought changing mer to merde was very clever. It makes perfect sense, when you consider the sad story we heard from that poor widow at Piddling Point."

  "But I didn't do it for her," he burst out. "Oh, I know I said the polluted water of the bay was the reason I did it, but it wasn't, Millicent. Those orders were sent off well before we met the woman on the cliff." He had gone this far, he must confess everything now. "I did it purely out of spite, to punish Sir Hereward. It was just that, when I saw the widow standing in the crowd, I thought it sounded far more noble to say I had done it for altruistic reasons rather than petty revenge."

  "It may not have been your original reason, but everyone deserves to know the truth about the water, Rudolph, so what you did today was a very good thing."

  "My mother does not think so," he said gloomily. "Nor does your father. And certainly not Sir Hereward. He knocked me down, remember. I am a failure."

  "I am very proud of you for taking it on the chin," replied Millicent, no hint of laughter in her voice. She reached over and caught his restless hands, clasping them firmly in her own. "Perhaps your original motives were not quite what they should have been, but you gave a voice to the people, Rudolph."

  Then, very daringly, she leaned over and kissed him on the mouth.

  She drew away, blushing, and Rudolph stared at her.

  "Good Lord. Are you…are you truly proud of me, Millicent?"

  "Truly," she said, smiling at him.

  For a moment his heart soared, then it plummeted again. He gave a groan and dropped his head in his hands.

  "It makes no difference, I am ruined and by my actions I have hurt so many other people, too."

  "Now that is where you are quite wrong," Millicent told h
im. "You see, after you took Mrs Spendlove away, Sir Hereward demanded that Father and the other councillors do something about the situation, and while they were all talking, Lucinda came over with a message from her great-aunt. She said Lady Bosomworth was willing to pay for replacing the monument with a statue of Sir Copson and, if the council agreed to it, she would also pick up the bill for having new and correct signs made for the roads into the town."

  "I can see how that will save the council and Sir Hereward a vast deal of money, but the Mayor's reputation is in tatters, as I am sure he pointed out to everyone."

  "That is where Father came into his own," she replied, smiling a little. "Father insisted you had a valid point about the outflow pipe and he persuaded Sir Hereward to change his mind about the proposals to upgrade the town's sewage system. Mr Flint says he still has the original plans he drew up with the engineers and he is willing to carry out the work for the same price."

  "And the Mayor agreed to this?" Rudolph was incredulous.

  Millicent's smile grew. "He did, once we…that is, once Father explained that the council would let it be known that he was the driving force behind the plan. Father is now drafting a report to the Piddling Post to say that no sooner had Sir Hereward grasped the nature of the problem—which, of course, he knew nothing of before today—he immediately set to work to rectify the situation."

  "And your father thought of all this, on the spot?"

  Millicent blushed. "Well, he might have had a little help, but he was very good at persuading all the councillors to back him up. So, you see, Rudolph, everything has worked out very well."

  "Except that I am no longer the Town Archivist."

  Millicent chuckled. "Father and I thought of that, too. The council have agreed to say that the incorrect name was a clerical error, and your outburst today will be put down to overwork. You will take a much-needed rest, but be retained on full pay."

  Rudolph stared at her. "But how can that be? Sir Hereward will never allow it."