Open Writing

She took him to a pub called The Union for lunch. It was far enough from the Promenade to escape the crowds.

Ten minutes after they had arrived, Ruth walked in, ex¬changed a joke with the landlord, and noticed them as if by chance.

"Have you been sending invitations?" Maudie asked Toni.

"She called this morning when you were asleep and wouldn't be put off. I thought this would be the safest way to see her."

"Keep it light and distant," he said, standing as Ruth ar¬rived.

"Oh, a perfect gentleman," she said.

"I'm going to the chemist."

"Really?"

She raised her eyebrows suggestively and he felt foolish.

"For shampoo. And you need your backside smacking."

"Promises, promises."

He left them and went outside. Toni would be okay for five minutes. He had noticed a chemist's shop a few doors away when they arrived.

He bought two different products that professed to do the same job, one a spray, the other a cream. He also bought shampoo.

They returned to the house before two o'clock. Julian let them in without comment.

"What now?" Toni asked.

"I'm going to have a nap. You freshen up. Later you can go shopping.

"I don't need anything."

"It doesn't matter. We are going to be seen around town. I'll carry the parcels and look like George Raft."

"Who?"

"Clint Eastwood."

His leg tightened up again during the nap and he used the cream before they left for a high-profile afternoon. It seemed to help. The penetrating heat had a definite beneficial effect.

Toni entered into the spirit of the shopping trip when she realised she could have fun. It consisted of making him un¬comfortable by leaving him standing outside ladies' changing rooms, or asking his opinion about intimate garments in lin¬gerie shops.

The sun had decided to stay out and once again he regret¬ted the solid craftsmanship of the woollen suit. She noticed his discomfort and insisted that if he was going to wear a suit, he should have one of lightweight material.

Despite his opposition, she took him to the men's depart¬ment of C&A's and chose a two piece, single breasted, light grey summerweight suit.

The way she fussed, he began to think the impression she was creating was that he was her father rather than her minder. He knew she was doing it on purpose and he agreed to try it on, and to let her buy it, to humour her and escape the attention.

When they were outside, she laughed.

"Come on. You've suffered enough," she said.

She took him through a restaurant busy with holidaymakers, upstairs to a coffee lounge with views of the sea through floor-to-ceiling double glazing.

Conversations were conducted in a murmur, tea, coffee and cakes were served by waitresses in black dresses and white aprons that he remembered from Joe Lyons days, and the customers appeared to be mainly local and well off.

It was a pleasant interlude, despite the weight of the suit. Down below, the beach was full of small family camps, col¬ourful deckchairs and windbreakers marking perimeter lines. Escapers splashed in the sea.

"Can you smell something?" Toni asked.

"What?"

"A funny smell. Sort of antiseptic."

He could smell something. The deep-heat cream. He crossed his legs away from her.

"Cleaning fluid," he said. "Somebody's spilled something and they've cleaned it up."

When they returned to the house, Maudie took a shower and washed off the liniment. He would suffer the pain rather than the
embarrassment.

That night they dined out in a seafood restaurant in South Shore.

Later, they made an appearance at Dolly's. It was brief and almost formal. Like a royal visit.

Finally they went back to the house for the last time and relieved Julian, who took a taxi home.

Maudie checked the interior of the house and then out¬side, with the floodlights on and Toni keeping brick-chewing Paolo under control.

Back inside, they switched on the burglar alarm.

"End of a perfect day," he said.

"Perfect?"

"No one got hurt."

"And so to bed?"

Maudie nodded.

"And the world service."