III
"Well, here we are!" Mary exclaims happily as she, Aggie, Diana, Adora, Lidia and Arch, each carrying small valises, step singly onto one of the bustling rail station platforms from the doorway of their first-class car on the Brighton Main Line.
"Merda, so many people here!" marvels Lidia. "It's not a holiday, right?"
"My God, it's feels worse here than it did in London!" complains Diana as she delicately mops her brow.
"I'm sure it'll feel much nicer once we're by the water," says Aggie hopefully. "That is, if we make it to the beach through all this consarned lot."
"Was there anyplace anyone wanted to see first?" asks Mary. "Remember it's not every day one can see Brighton."
Diana shakes her head. "Just about any other time I'd be agreeable to a prolonged visit - well, except in the much colder months, of course - but today I'd really rather just bathe. Isn't that why we all packed our suits?"
"Yes, all right. Arch?"
"Me, too. Bathe."
"Ladies?"
"Bathe," Aggie, Lidia and Adora reply in near-unison.
"Fine. That being said, there's a sweet shop on the pier I want to visit first."
Low groans sound from the little group.
"Whatever for, Mary?" asks Diana with a petulant sigh.
"It's the only shop in England that sells those brandy-flavored sticks you can actually play like penny whistles. Special only in Brighton for some reason. 'Tootle-oos,' they're called. That's T-O-O-T-L-E-oos. I've always wanted to try them but have somehow never found the chance to come here. Ever hear of 'em?"
"'Tootle-oos'?" asks Lidia. "Hmm. I might have heard a flutist at the Company mention them once."
"They sound amusing, Mary," adds Diana flatly. "And if I wasn't sweating like Gertrude Bell in Mesopotamia at high noon right now I might actually purchase one, but-"
"Di, why not go and have a quick look-see?" interjects Adora. "I'm a bit curious now."
"Christ, Addie, really?"
Aggie nods. "I'm with Addie on this. Let's go there first, then change and look for a nice open spot on the beach. If we can."
"I'm for going there, Mary!" Arch says brightly. "Perhaps I'll buy a few chocs to nosh on."
"Lovely!" Mary exclaims. "And we can form a penny whistle sextet and play on the beach! My treat!"
"Swell," mutters Diana. "She'll get us drowned in the Channel!"
About fifteen minutes later the group stand at the foot of the shop-lined pier and gaze numbly at the people in the shimmering heat crossing to and fro and passing up and down their flanks, yet never detracting one whit from the larger immovable mass matching the one they viewed at the station.
"Look at that crowd!" says Arch in awe.
"Feels like half of England's here," Lidia observes wearily.
"Maybe we should high-tail it to the Isle of Wight or Devon or...somewhere a bit less peopled," suggests Aggie.
"No, no, I'm sorry, I've had it," says an exasperated Diana. "Mary, I really must break away for a little while because thank God, thank God there is a cafe right over there, so I'd like to get to shade and have a drink, alcoholic or non-alcoholic, but definitely with ice. I love sweets as much as the next girl but right now... "
"I wouldn't mind having something cool to drink," says Lidia.
"That's only fair," replies Mary. "Right, how's this for a plan: anyone who wants the cafe can go now while the rest of us visit the sweet shop, then about half-past -what's it now? three?-we'll have a go at the cafe ourselves and stay 'til four, at least. Whoever's for the sweet shop, or anything else for that matter, may still make use of second half, assuming they want to do more than lounge in a cafe for a full hour, Diana."
"Well, who wouldn't?" winks Diana, who then furiously dabs perspiration out of her eye. "Ah, damn it!"
"Then if anyone is still willing we shall hit the beach at four, while away an hour then take the 5:15 back to Victoria Station and go our separate ways for supper. Plan complete, summer fete and hot horrid day thus ending happily. Objections?"
No one objects.
"Splendid! And much easier than I thought. Now who's for the ca-well, there goes Di, already."
"I'm, as Aggie might say, just a-hankerin' for an iced coffee," chuckles Lidia as she moves away. "Well, she might not say the 'iced coffee' part. A dopo, ladies, Milord!"
"What about you, Addie? Still want to see those penny whistles?"
Adora chews her lower lip and glances over to where Diana seems to be waiting impatiently for her at the cafe door.
"Perhaps-perhaps I oughtn't to, after all."
"Oh, are you sure?" asks Mary.
"You know you don't have to go just because she-" Aggie begins but stops as Adora momentarily rummages through her handbag, fishes out a few crisply folded pounds and with a taut smile presses them into Mary's hand.
"Half a dozen of those 'Tootle-oos', and plenty of anything Cadbury, please, Mary," Adora mutters. "Oh, and I suppose some 'Cressida Dots' for Di." She laughs dryly. "Thanks so much. I-really must go, ladies, Arch. I'll see you all later." Adora hustles to rejoin her significant other.
"Is she all right?" asks Arch.
"Don't know," replies Mary tersely, concern clouding her brow. "Hope so."
"I reckon it's to do with their little tiff back in your flat," opines Aggie.
"Tiff?" Arch asks.
"Di was mulling over quitting painting, it was big news to Addie today. Today! So yeah, tiff."
"Shame. Hope they don't call it quits, they seem awfully good together."
"Maybe not anymore," Aggie says uneasily. "Here she comes!"
Adora stalks moodily back over to the trio and bares her palm to Mary.
"You've still got my money?" she grunts.
A dazed Mary cedes the now slightly more moist pounds in her hand back to her friend. "But what-"
"Thanks. See you there." Adora hurries on ahead.
"Let's follow her, quickly!" Mary insists, and the three weave through the crowd until they arrive a few feet away from the shop door. The building itself is simply another small business wedged between two others, with the notable difference of its storefront is a facade of garish vertical rainbow hues while its name announces in like colorful aspect in Gill Sans on a white oblong plaque the establishment's name of GUMM'S SWEETS, its lightly streaked display window heavily displaying a terraced array of tempting candies. Small children occasionally hop and squeal joyfully in and out the door, out always with their own small bag of tasty new treasures, escorted by their beaming, indulgent parents.
"Whoa, Nellie!" shouts Aggie as she halts dead in her tracks.
"What, what?! What's 'whoa, Nellie'?!" demands Mary, following suit.
"I just saw her dash in there, ladies," remarks Arch. "But yeah, what is it, Ag? Why are we stopped?"
"Look who's come out!" Aggie whispers dramatically.
From the front door of the busy shop, each holding a large brown paper bag in their hand and smiling cheerfully at each other, emerge Ginny Blompton's two erstwhile party companions - Tim Boxleigh and 'Poppy' St. Cecile.
TO BE CONTINUED
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