The Palace of Strange Girls

by Sallie Day

  “Not the shop,” Alan says with a snigger. “UCP—Under Central Pier for a bit of the other.”

  Helen turns and looks at him. He thinks this is a joke. He couldn’t care less about his own brother, let alone Beth. His sniggering makes Helen furious, but there are more important things to worry about. He might be right. “I’m going to look under the pier. She’s been nattering to explore rock pools for her I-Spy book.”

  Alan looks delighted at the prospect, as if all the hard work has been done for him. He leads her down the wooden steps on to the beach and they step into the shade under the pier. It takes a minute or two for Helen’s eyes to get used to the darkness, let alone begin to look for Beth. The pier is supported by a forest of pillars, their tops hidden in the darkness of planking and their bottoms swathed in seaweed and surrounded by pools of salt water and rocks. There’s a dank, brown, slow-dripping smell of rust, wood and rot. Alan leads her further into the darkness until she stumbles on a tussock of rotting seaweed and slips. She stretches out her hand towards the nearest iron pillar but misses and starts to fall, grazing her arm against the barnacles that cover the concrete footings. Alan catches hold of her other hand and she doesn’t know how it happens, but she ends up flat on her back in the sand with Alan beside her. He immediately rolls on top of her and, before she has a chance even to catch her breath, clamps his lips over hers.

  Helen struggles to free herself. His kiss slathers her mouth in saliva. His lips forced on hers, he angles his face harshly against her cheekbone, squashing her nose sideways. Helen is suffocating. When she raises her hands to push him off he grabs both her arms and traps her wrists under her, tearing at the neckline of her top. Her lungs are bursting with the effort of fighting for air. She’s afraid she’ll faint. She stops struggling and lies still. It’s no good. He’s too heavy for her to throw off. Her mind races, trying to work out a way to outwit him. She lies quite still and finally his grip on her relaxes in response. Helen manages to work one hand free, her wrist burning with the aftermath of his loosened grip. She pushes her arm between their bodies, the heel of her hand hard against his shoulder and he shifts slightly, allowing her a single breath before his full weight is over her again. His knee is forcing her legs open and his hand scrabbling through the layers of her underskirt, his nails raking her thighs. He lifts his head for a second and she grasps another breath, her scream silenced by the return of his lips. His teeth cut into her lip and there’s the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Her throat retches on the choke of his tongue until he moves again and she turns away, teeth clenched shut against him.

  His hand moves over her mouth and presses the side of her face into the putrid sand now, and she is fighting for air again as the particles of sand cover her lips and block her nose. She is trapped, trussed up in his arms, weak from the effort of trying to throw him off. Helen stops struggling and starts to sob, turning her head away, sickened by the knowledge of what he is doing to her. There in the semidarkness, six or seven feet away, she can see another couple. The girl is familiar. It’s Connie. She’s flat on her back with the figure of a man lying on his side facing her. They are murmuring and he bends and kisses her lightly, and there is another burst of laughter. It’s Doug. It is a moment before he recognizes Helen. When he does his eyes take in the scene. For a second he looks her in the eye, an expression of disbelief followed by anger. Connie turns to see what has attracted his attention and seeing that it is Helen, she slides her arm round Doug’s neck and pulls him towards her. They roll loosely together, Connie laughing as if she hasn’t a care in the world. Alan too has recognized Connie but now, as she turns away, he renews his assault on Helen. Her panties rip easily under his hungry fingers.

  The darkness closes in over Helen, she is weak with trying to resist the onslaught. “Keep still or I’ll do for you,” he hisses in her ear.

  Suddenly Helen hears a scream of fury that echoes around them. Above her, out of the darkness, Beth’s face suddenly appears. The little girl is screaming, over and over and over again, as if she will never stop. Her lungs heaving with the effort, her face contorted in fury, she hurls herself towards Alan. “Get off her! Get off! Get off my sister, you big bugger.”

  Alan kicks out at the child, sending her sprawling at the foot of one of the pier supports, but Beth gets up again and, heedless of her injuries, renews her attack. It is an unequal struggle. Alan reaches out a lazy arm and pushes her away. “Bugger off, you bloody cripple.”

  Beth renews her onslaught, her fury reaching new heights. She leaps like a tiger, kicking and punching until she is breathless. Her fingers claw at his face and her feet thud into his flesh. This frenzied attack has drawn the attention of other couples who look on bemused. There’s a parting of embraces as strangers turn and take in the sight. It is only when Beth begins to shout for help that Alan hesitates. He pauses, releasing his hold on Helen’s arms and half turns towards the snarling, screaming child. At last Helen struggles free and crawls towards the light, her face pitted with sand, her cheeks stained with mascara and her mouth bloody.

  24

  Wreck

  There are all sorts of unusual sights you might see at the seaside. A wreck is one of the saddest. Boats that have run aground on sandbanks may be floated again at the next tide. But a ship that has been driven on to the rocks is more serious. When this happens the only question to be asked is “What can be salvaged?” What unusual sights have you spotted at the seaside? Score 20 points for anything you can salvage.

  Ruth makes her way back to the hotel conservatory at a smart pace, leaving Cora hurrying in her wake.

  “Ruth! What a welcome return,” Ronald says, getting to his feet. Glancing at Cora, he adds, “Nothing wrong, I hope.”

  “No, not at all. I just wanted to thank you both for your hospitality but it is time we left. Where’s Jack?”

  “I imagine he decided to wait for you outside. I fear I may have offended him. I hope we haven’t upset you as well?” Ronald asks, his face wreathed in apparent concern. “Forgive me, I hadn’t meant to interfere. I was merely congratulating Jack on his promotion to manager of Prospect Mill. He didn’t seem to want to discuss it.” Ronald pauses, waiting for a reaction. Ruth stands openmouthed, staring in disbelief. “Oh, didn’t you know?” Ronald says. “Jack been keeping it quiet, has he? Still, I’ve only known for a week.”

  Ruth finds her voice. “Of course I knew.”

  “Of course,” Ronald agrees in a condescending tone. “Of course.”

  Glancing around the room, he snaps his fingers. “Here, let me get the bellboy to see you out.”

  “There’s no need,” Ruth assures him. “Good afternoon.” She turns away and walks quickly to the door.

  Ruth doesn’t speak until they are well clear of the hotel and walking back down the avenue of limes. A piece of gravel has lodged itself under the canvas at the side of her shoe but she’s too angry to stop and shake it free.

  “What’s got into you?” Jack asks. “You’ve a face like thunder, which is rich considering it was you who wanted to come in the first place. Given a choice, I’d have been happier with a poke in the eye from a sharp stick.”

  Ruth interrupts: “What happened with you and Ronald? Why were you standing outside?”

  “Oh, nothing. He was just being his usual obnoxious self. Will you slow down, Ruth? If you keep this pace up we’ll make it back to the hotel before the tram.”

  Ruth stops dead and glares at her husband. “You’ve been made up to manager, haven’t you?”

  “Well…”

  “Haven’t you!”

  “Well, yes, in a way. It’s been…”

  “Just this once, Jack, tell me the truth.”

  “What do you mean by that? I’ve not lied to you, Ruth. OK, Fosters have offered me the job. I was going to tell you after we’d finished with the Lloyds. This is the first time we’ve been alone without the girls for ages.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before? Why did I have
to hear it from Ronald, a near stranger?”

  “I haven’t known about it that long.”

  “Ronald heard last week.”

  “Well, I only got wind of it recently. I didn’t tell you immediately because you were so flustered about Beth when I got home. And later we were both busy getting the house straight and the bags packed for the holiday. I felt I needed time to think about it before I started bothering you with it.”

  “And what about allowing me to think about it? What about discussing it with me?”

  “Well, I was going to.”

  “You’re lying. You were only going to tell me once you’d made up your mind.”

  “I haven’t said anything to John Foster yet.”

  “You haven’t been at work to see him.”

  “Bloomin’ ’eck, Ruth. We can talk about it till kingdom come, but in the end it’s still me who has to do the job.”

  “Well, are you going to take it or are you sticking with the Union?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk about. There’s a couple of things we need some time to discuss. Things that I need to explain.”

  “You can explain until you’re blue in the face. It isn’t going to make any difference. When I think about all the support and care and encouragement I’ve given you. You don’t deserve it. None of it.” She starts walking again and Jack lengthens his stride to catch up.

  Out on the sands the retreating tide reveals the rusty ironwork of a wreck, draped in seaweed and studded with limpets, a seagoing vessel reduced by the rush of disaster to a hopeless shell of what it once was. Jack catches hold of Ruth’s hand and puts it in the crook of his arm.

  Ruth turns to face him, livid with fury. “How could you?” she shouts. “How could you make such a fool of me? In front of the Lloyds, of all people?” Ruth pulls her hand away from Jack and they do not speak again.

  The three-mile walk has made them late back to the hotel and Ruth is getting anxious about the absence of the girls when they suddenly turn up. Ruth is still angry. When she sees Helen in a torn blouse and muddied skirt she snaps, “Go upstairs and take that blouse off. It’s torn to bits. You look a sight.” Seeing Helen’s tear-stained cheeks, she continues, “It’s no good crying over spilt milk. I told you that top wasn’t at all suitable for a girl your age. I said it would fall to bits, didn’t I? How on earth have you got yourself in this mess?”

  “It was my fault,” Beth says. “I dragged her down the steps to the beach and she fell. That’s why she scratched her leg and everything.”

  Ruth finally loses her patience. “What did I tell you, Helen? I told you to stay here, not to go out. You should know, you’re the eldest. Does nobody ever give a thought to me? Does what I say matter so little? Go upstairs and get washed and changed. Here are the keys. You’ll have to put on your other skirt, it’s in the suitcase under the bed.”

  Jack has been standing back during this exchange between mother and daughter. He has noted the state of Helen’s clothes, watched as the color in Beth’s cheeks rises as she speaks. He is almost convinced that Beth is lying, but he doesn’t want to begin thinking about what has happened and how his older daughter got into that state. The sight of her may infuriate Ruth, but it troubles Jack.

  The Singletons are first into the dining room at six o’clock. Helen has no appetite, she pushes the fish and chips around her plate and is relieved when the waitress clears the table. Ruth confines herself to two cups of tea and a slice of bread. It is left to Jack and Beth to maintain an air of normality. Sensing the parental rift, Beth fills the silence with an account of her progress with the I-Spy book. It is, she claims, almost full. She pulls the book out of the side pocket of her shorts and, starting with page one, recites all the items she has spied. She hands the book to Jack and asks him to add up the scores. Some of the pages are crumpled, folded back, or have come loose altogether. Her handwriting is a mixture of over- and undersized letters scattered across the page, squashed circles, bent strings and backward-facing “s”s.

  Nevertheless Jack is moved to paternal pride by the effort his daughter has made. He turns to Beth and says, “Leave it with me, Sputnik. When we get home I’ll straighten out all the pages and tot up your points. All right?”

  Beth nods happily.

  The family are leaving the dining room just as the Cleggs arrive. Florrie is disappointed and expresses the hope that they’ll all meet up later in the Residents’ Lounge, but Ruth shakes her head. She has packing to do.

  Jack spends the evening closeted with Victor in the office. Together they drink the best part of a bottle of Irish whiskey and, when conversation shifts to the war, Victor talks about how things might have been if his wife had survived. Before they part company at ten, Jack has made up his mind to tell Ruth about the letter from Eleni.

  Ruth is busy, as usual, when Jack gets to the room. She has everything they brought away on holiday laid out across the double bed—everything from medicines and cleaning materials to the piles of dirty clothes. She ignores his presence and continues to empty the dressing-table drawers. Eventually she looks up and says, “You’re back early. Dougie finally drunk the pub dry, has he?”

  “I haven’t been out. I’ve just been in the office chatting to Victor. I’ve settled the bill. I haven’t made the usual booking for next year. I thought you might like to try somewhere different. You’ve always said you fancy a week in Llandudno.”

  “You think a week in Llandudno makes up for what you’ve done?”

  “I’ve said I’m sorry time and again. I should have told you about the management job sooner.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve discussed it with Dougie.”

  Jack picks up a sock from the floor and puts it back in the pile on the bed. “None of this matters. All that matters is that we get over this and start looking to the future.”

  “But why didn’t you tell me? Why do you have to keep secrets?”

  “I was worried that you’d talk me out of taking the Union job and then I’d regret the decision. But I’m sure now. If you agree I’m going to take the job with Fosters.”

  Ruth pauses in the task of stuffing the dirty clothes into a clean white laundry bag and looks Jack in the eye. “I’m glad. I know it was a difficult decision, but you’ll see, it’ll turn out to be the best thing. Just think of what we’ll be able to do with the extra money.” She turns and sits down on the edge of the bed.

  “There’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Jack slips his hand inside his jacket and feels for the letter. It’s not there, it must be in his trousers.

  “What?”

  “Something that’s been bothering me a lot. It’s about a girl I got friendly with…”

  Ruth’s heart sinks. She lets the laundry bag slide from her fingers. “So it’s true,” she says, her eyes filling with tears. “Cora told me and I wouldn’t believe her. I told her she was a liar, that just because her husband messed around it didn’t mean that mine did. But she saw you with that girl.”

  “But she can’t have. Cora saw me doing what?”

  “She saw you with a girl on Wednesday night. She had your jacket on, Cora said. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe you’d be unfaithful. She saw you at eleven and it was well past midnight before you got back here. You had sex with her, didn’t you?” Jack refuses to answer. “Didn’t you? You had sex with that girl, didn’t you?” Jack drops his head and nods. “It’s true! I can tell from your face. Where did you go?”

  “Ruth, please. It doesn’t matter. There are more important things we need to talk about.” Jack pulls the letter from his pocket.

  But Ruth, blinded by tears, fails to notice. “What could be more important than you committing adultery? Where did you have sex? On a backstreet somewhere? What’s her name, or didn’t you bother to find out?” Ruth starts to cry. Jack walks round the bed and tries to sit next to her, but she throws out her arms and shouts, “Get away. Get away from me. You liar. You cheat. You’re nothing be
tter than a dog.”

  Jack moves away and sits on the opposite side of the bed, his shoulders slumped in despair. He tries again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. I know that. I’d had a few pints. It meant nothing at all.”

  “What if you’ve made her pregnant? Or is that what you wanted? Then you could have the chance of a son?”

  The absurdity of this accusation makes Jack finally lose his temper. “That’s a bloody ridiculous thing to say, Ruth. Rubbish. It’s just rubbish. And I’m getting tired of forever making allowances for you. Whatever I do, I’m always in the wrong. It’s been obvious for a long time that you don’t want me. I’ve tried to be reasonable. I’ve tried to be patient. I know you’ve been upset about Beth, but I have too. Anybody would think you were the only one who cares.” Jack looks down, and seeing Eleni’s letter crumpled in his hand, he pushes it back in his pocket.

  Ruth looks up at him, her face streaked with tears. “Well, you needn’t worry. You won’t have to put up with me for much longer. I shall be leaving when we get back tomorrow. And I’ll be taking the girls with me.”

  This threat strikes home. “Don’t be daft. Where would you go?”

  “Anywhere will do as long as it’s away from you.”

  “It’s a waste of time trying to talk to you when you’re in this state.”

  “Get out, then. Go on, get out.”

  Ruth launches herself at Jack, thumping his shoulder and chest until he pushes her arms away and gets up from the bed. “I’m going for a walk on the prom.”

  Ruth doesn’t reply.

  There’s a southwesterly wind blowing when he gets outside. He buttons his jacket and strides towards the prom. There are still a fair number of people about, spending their final evening in the resort strolling arm in arm and admiring the sunset. Jack finds an empty bench and sits down. Ruth’s threat to take the girls has hit him hard. It’s ironic that he’d meant to tell her about his relationship with Eleni and ended up having to admit to a meaningless one-night stand with Connie. There’s some small comfort to be had from the fact that Cora may have seen him, but she won’t have recognized who he was with.