The Last Perfect Summer of Richard Dawlish

by Caron Allan

  ‘I’m Dottie Manderson.’

  ‘Are you on holiday, Miss Manderson?’ Penny Parfitt asked.

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ Dottie said. She didn’t feel she could explain why she was really in Scarborough, but for some reason, her brain refused to function just when she needed some harmless small-talk. Her new friends looked at her, expecting her to clarify her meaning. Words failed her. She couldn’t think of a proper explanation.

  The waitress arrived with the teas and Dottie’s coffee, and by the time they’d each attended to milk and sugar, the other two had forgotten—or politely ignored—Dottie’s odd choice of words. Dottie raised her cup to her lips, glancing across the table as she did so. She met Gervase Parfitt’s eyes regarding her with a very frank expression of admiration. She almost choked on her coffee, but managed to set the cup down without mishap and asked, with every appearance of composure:

  ‘And are both of you here on holiday?’ She made a point of looking at Penny as she said it but could feel his eyes on her. She knew she was blushing. It’s ridiculous, she thought, I’m used to dealing with amorous men. How many times had she wrestled on the doorstep after an evening out with some young fellow who thought he deserved more than a quick peck on the cheek? So why did she feel so discomposed now?

  ‘Actually,’ Penny said, ‘I’m here for a few days following the death of my husband a month ago.’

  Before Dottie could murmur an apology or condolences, Penny added candidly, ‘I just felt I had to get away. Arthur had been ill for some time, and I was quite exhausted. It was affecting my own health, so...’

  ‘So as Penny’s oldest and dearest friend, and practically a brother, I offered to accompany her to the seaside for a few days whilst the house is being decorated and some of the ghosts laid to rest.’ Gervase said it with a broad grin, but patted Penny’s hand tenderly. He seemed to be coping quite well with the loss of a brother. But if her husband had been ill for a long while, perhaps the family viewed it as a merciful release? If Dottie had wondered if there was anything more behind their friendship, this was disproved by Penny’s sisterly playful slap and her laughing comment:

  ‘Idiot. Oldest friend, definitely; none of my friends are as old as you! And I take issue with the use of ‘dearest’ too. But yes, it’s true I’m having some of the rooms done out. It will be nice to go back to fresh rooms, and well, if not ghosts, there are quite a few memories which I suppose is inevitable when you’ve been married just over ten years.’

  Dottie had been on the point of asking if there had been any children. But Penny continued, saying, ‘We didn’t have any children, so it’ll be odd being in the house on my own. But my sister and her family are coming back from India in a few days. They’ll stay with our parents, but it’s quite nearby, and they’ll visit me, of course, or I’ll visit them, so I expect I’ll get worn out with all the socialising and be glad to be alone again.’

  By the time they’d finished their drinks, Dottie felt as though she was well and truly one of the party. They invited her to go with them to walk along the promenade and play mini-golf, which she hadn’t tried before, and was delighted to find she excelled at.

  Gervase was not shy about showing how much he already liked her. He seemed to take every opportunity to touch her arm, or put an arm about her shoulders as he showed her how to putt and swing her club. But it was all done so light-heartedly that she didn’t feel any inclination to object. It was merely a casual flirtation, and was very soothing to her self-esteem. After lunch at the hotel, they went out again to listen to the band playing on the promenade.

  By dinner-time she felt she’d known them all her life. They invited her to join them for dinner, and she gratefully accepted, not looking forward to sitting at her table all alone. Gervase set himself out to be very charming indeed, making her laugh with his tall stories, and Dottie found herself very willing to be charmed. It didn’t have to mean anything, after all, it was just a pleasant light flirtation. He talked about his work, and Dottie was profoundly interested to hear that he was—far from being an ordinary policeman—actually the Assistant Chief Constable of Derbyshire.

  ‘And the youngest in the whole country, too,’ Penny told Dottie with great pride. Dottie couldn’t but help be impressed, though he was self-deprecating and tried to make it sound as if all he did all day was read or write reports for Parliament.

  ‘But surely you didn’t start at the top, you must have worked your way up and earned such a rarified position?’ she laughed.

  ‘Oh I did, I was one the countries first graduate detective sergeants, and I’m glad to say that the position brought me a number of unique opportunities so that my rise was both rapid and well-deserved!’ They laughed at his pretence at polishing a medal on his chest. ‘Of course, there are always a few blighted sorts who will cry ‘nepotism’,’ he added, frowning, ‘but I earned my rank, I didn’t gain it through the old boy’s club, or because my father is the Chief Constable of Nottinghamshire. The two forces are completely separate.’

  ‘Of course,’ Dottie said, hastening to soothe his irritated pride. ‘And I’m sure anyone who knows you would never believe you gained your position by anything other than merit.’

  ‘Thanks!’ He shot her a smile. ‘I like to think policing is in my blood, as I’m following in the footsteps of both my father and my grandfather. But it’s good of you to say so, even though you don’t know us very well at present. I do hope we have the opportunity to get to know you better.’

  Dottie felt as though his looks and his words meant something rather more personal than the surface indicated. She smiled back at him, and felt her heart do a little tell-tale flutter.

  The three of them lingered over dinner. Conversation was general, touching on what Penny and Gervase had done since arriving in Scarborough, and reminiscences of other holidays, other resorts. A small orchestra came in to play in the lounge which in the evenings doubled as ballroom. The staff pushed back the tables, chairs and numerous potted palms to create an intimate dancefloor. Dottie and her new friends opted to sit at a table near the orchestra and simply listen to the music and watch the few couples who got up to dance.

  At ten o’clock the orchestra took a break, and Dottie excused herself, remembering she was expecting the telephone calls from George and Flora, and from her parents.

  The call from her parents came first.

  ‘Dorothy dear, are you there? Can you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, Mother, I can hear you perfectly.’ Dottie repressed a giggle, her mother was practically shouting. It seemed likely the whole hotel could hear her voice. Dottie had to hold the earpiece at least six inches from her ear.

  ‘Well, dear, we’re home. What a journey! But never mind, we got back all right, obviously. We got home in time for an early dinner yesterday, and today we’ve just been taking things gently, apart from a visit to Florence and George, of course. Once again dear, I just want to say how proud I am—we both are—of how you coped with such a grown-up situation.’

  Dottie felt a tiny adolescent irritation at that, but said only, ‘Thank you, Mother.’ She teased her hair into place in the little mirror beside the telephone, then vaguely wondered why it had seemed the best place to put a mirror. Did callers always get bored and let their thoughts wander? Or was it an automatic requirement for ladies to fuss over their appearance, especially if talking with a gentleman? Her mother spoke of this and that, non-essentials, anything to fill the time, then rang off, with an urge to Dottie to, ‘Have a lovely rest, dear, but come home soon. Your family miss you.’

  With a smile Dottie said her goodbyes, rang off, and waited for the next call. It was just a few minutes later that Dottie heard Flora’s voice. Immediately Dottie asked, ‘Is George all right?’

  ‘Yes, darling he’s perfectly fine, just you know... so upset still. He’s doing something manly in his study at the moment, goodness knows what. What with that trip up to Scarborough and back, and then he’s been to see his father
and back today, really he’s worn out from all the travelling and grief, the poor pet.’

  ‘And the baby?’

  Dottie could hear the smile in Flora’s voice. ‘Oh Dottie, she’s such a little angel, isn’t she? Absolutely gorgeous.’

  ‘She is. And what are you going to call her, have you decided?’

  ‘Well we’ve thought of a few names, but I think the one we will plump for is Diana Dorothy Gascoigne. What do you think?’

  Dottie smiled. ‘I’m so happy you’re calling her Diana. I’d hoped you’d put that name in there somewhere.’

  ‘We might put the Diana first, we haven’t really got it fixed yet. Dottie dear, about William...’

  ‘No!’ Dottie said, suddenly on her guard. ‘Please don’t... I can’t...’

  ‘Very well, dear. But you are all right?’ Flora must have moved at the other end, for her voice sounded suddenly closer, warm and confidential.

  Dottie felt as if her sister was by her side. ‘Yes, Flora, I’m quite all right,’ she said softly. ‘And now I’ve got to go. I’ll be home in a few days, and then we’ll have a proper talk.’ But not about William Hardy, she mentally added. ‘Goodbye, darling, and kiss baby Diana Dorothy for me.’

  ‘I shall. See you soon, Dottie dear.’

  The orchestra had already returned and were well into the second half of their programme. Penny was on her feet, about to leave when Dottie rejoined them. Penny said goodnight, and Dottie wondered if she should say goodnight too, and go up to her room. Then Gervase smiled at her.

  ‘Have I missed much?’ she asked him. He had so politely got to his feet as she approached, and now as he smiled down at her, her heart gave another little lurch. She reminded herself this was just a little holiday romance, nothing serious. It was too soon for anything serious.

  ‘This is only the third number, so not too much.’ He stubbed out his cigarette and turned to hold out his hand to her, ‘Shall we?’

  She was beginning to notice that when Penny wasn’t around, he was livelier and more romantic. Dottie stepped onto the little dancefloor. She loved to dance and something told her Gervase would be an excellent partner. She was right. It didn’t matter whether the orchestra played a waltz or a quick-step, his actions matched hers and they moved in perfect tune. For almost an hour they danced. After a slow waltz, her head was drooping onto his shoulder, and he spoke in her ear, his voice low.

  ‘Would you like a walk on the prom in the moonlight? I promise to be a perfect gentleman.’

  She lifted her head to look into his eyes that teased her in the soft lighting. She laughed. ‘Is there a moon? That would be lovely, and although I’m sure you’re not a perfect gentleman, you do seem reasonably well-behaved.’

  He laughed out loud at that, and giving her his arm, he led her out into the cool night air. She was glad of her wrap; a strong breeze blew in off the sea, and it was chilly after the warmth of the lounge, and the dancing. She hugged Gervase’s arm. One or two cars were arriving outside the little parade of hotels facing the sea.

  ‘Everyone’s coming back after their evenings out.’

  ‘Yes,’ Dottie answered, but couldn’t think of anything else to add. They crossed the road and went to lean on the railing and look at the sea. It was the perfect time of year. The long light evenings drew reluctantly to an end, the sun was still setting on the horizon, splashing the sea with red and gold. On the other side of the sky, in the deepest blue, the moon was full and bright, gilding everything with silver: the waves-tops, the posts along the promenade, glancing down Gervase’s cheekbones and chin. If he kisses me now, Dottie thought, I shan’t want to stop him. His eyes, deep in shadow, regarded her, and she knew he was thinking of kissing her. There was a long moment, then a stronger gust of wind ruffled her hair, a young couple went past arguing loudly, and Gervase, with a soft laugh, turned to pull Dottie’s hand through his arm and they began to walk in the other direction. Dottie pulled her wrap tight around her.

  ‘Cold?’ Gervase, pausing in his stride, pulled off his jacket and wrapped it, still warm from his body, about her shoulders. They walked again, still in silence, but he kept his arm about her shoulders. People will think we’re a married couple, Dottie thought, and the thought of marriage to this man thrilled her. It was true he was quite a lot older than her, but they seemed to complement each other so well. She sighed happily. Thoughts of a mere holiday infatuation were quickly fading. She was already imagining something far longer-lasting. Their steps had slowed, her head was almost on his shoulder. They walked on.

  They were almost at the end of the promenade, and there was Diana’s hotel, huddled in guilty shadow at the end of the walkway. No light shone at its windows. The garish pink of daytime was blotted out by the night, and it seemed almost as if it was trying not to exist. As they reached it, and paused ready to turn back, Dottie couldn’t help but look up at the building. She shuddered.

  ‘Are you still cold? Perhaps we should hurry back and get you inside? Don’t want you catching a chill.’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I’m quite all right.’ Then, longing to get it all off her chest, she poured out the entire story. Without names, of course, she told him everything.

  His disgust and indignation were all for what Diana had suffered. He was modern enough in his outlook to say to Dottie, quite emphatically, ‘Well I can’t imagine the woman got into the situation all on her own—what of the man? If I was her father, I’d have horsewhipped him, and seen to it that he made an honest woman of her. There’s too much of this sort of dallying with defenceless girls. We see so much of it in the police force. And from what you’ve told me, this poor woman was little more than a child. The parents were very wrong to lay the blame so entirely on her shoulders. The poor girl! She must have been in complete despair.’

  ‘She was utterly guilt-ridden. She’d been starving herself and living in squalor. I think she felt she deserved to die.’

  ‘You were marvellous to stay with her, to try to help her,’ Gervase said. ‘I’m terribly—and please don’t be offended by this, Dottie dear—I’m terribly proud of your courage and determination. Not many young women of our class would have been so courageous, nor so compassionate. No, really, Dottie, that was quite astonishing. Such strength of character is so, so rare.’

  Dottie was flattered, of course, but she was also embarrassed. But his praise pleased her, his use of the word ‘dear’, his tight hug as he spoke, it all pleased her. Already, she had to acknowledge to herself, she was half in love with him. She wondered if he felt the same, or if he was merely being gentlemanly. Yet he didn’t treat her as a child, or even as the new acquaintance she really was; he seemed to be genuinely in earnest in what he said to her. He was so caring in his behaviour towards her. He seemed to like her, if anything, even more than she liked him.

  They turned to head slowly back, and giving her a teasing glance, his eyes glittering in the moonlight, he kissed her fingertips before tucking her hand back in its warm place in the crook of his arm. He said, ‘We’re leaving for home tomorrow afternoon.’

  Dottie’s heart sank, and she felt suddenly tearful. It was awful news. ‘So soon?’ she said, trying to sound merely politely disappointed. ‘What a shame.’

  ‘It’s a bloody disaster, Dottie, that’s how I feel about it. I know I’ve only just met you, but I already feel...’ He stopped and turned to look at her. ‘Look I know it’s all happening too fast, and this isn’t at all conventional, but... Well I’d like to continue to get to know you. Would you consider a few days in Nottinghamshire? I’ll be driving us back, there’s plenty of room for a little thing like you in my car, and between ourselves, I think that Penny is a bit nervous about going back to the house on her own. You’d be doing me a huge favour if you could stay with her for a few days, help her get used to being in the house without Artie.’

  Everything in Dottie wanted to thrust aside the brevity of their friendship and shout, ‘Yes!’ But she pretended to think about it.
They walked on. After a minute or two she said, ‘I would like that, but only if Penny really wanted me to go back with her. After all, we’ve only just met. And what about her sister arriving shortly from India with her family? I wouldn’t want to be in the way.’

  ‘They won’t be arriving until the middle of next week. And in any case, they’re not staying with Penny, they will be staying with Penny’s parents, a mile or so away. I shan’t be there,’ he hastened to add, as if she was concerned about the impropriety of that. Dottie was simply aware of an acute disappointment. He went on, ‘I have my own home, of course, but that’s also only a mile away from Penny’s, and I intend to make a nuisance of myself by visiting as often as possible.’

  By the time they reached the hotel, and he said goodnight to her—excessively politely, to Dottie’s mind: she had hoped he would kiss her—it was assumed she would be going with them. He had promised to speak to Penny first thing, but he was confident she would be pleased to have Dottie with her.

  They planned to leave soon after lunch, and Gervase expected they would arrive in good time for dinner.

  ‘I’m not going to push it,’ he told Dottie over morning coffee. ‘We’ll take our time. There’s an old mill where they do refreshments and light meals. It’s a lovely spot, very picturesque, and we always stop there to break up the journey. Penny’s not a very good traveller I’m afraid and she’s usually glad of a bit of a breather.’

  Dottie said she thought it sounded perfect. Gervase gave her a grateful smile when she added that she had an excellent line in small talk to take Penny’s mind off the motion of the motor car.

  ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘it’s not just the journey itself, it’s what lies at the end of it that is playing on her mind. She’s been dreading going home and Artie not being there.’

  She’d said the same to Dottie when they went to the ladies’ at one point during the morning, adding that she was glad Gervase had invited Dottie to go back with them. Now, Dottie said simply, ‘It must be so difficult for her.’