Chapter 3

The week dragged on and established something of a routine. Each morning a light breakfast was enjoyed by the three (Simon found that he was beginning to like porridge, but he always took a boiled egg too); then, depending upon the weather, they might take a walk. If warm, they would walk very slowly to the edge of the cliff paths and then proceed along the top at an exceeding slow pace. Simon told himself that at least the old lady was trying to maintain mobility, but found himself wishing for worse weather, for, if it seemed cold or windy then they would push the bathchair to the cliff and then take the long gentle slope down to the sea. It could be bracing; but to give her credit, Great Aunt Jo would go out if it was at all possible.

Lunch became a slightly larger affair as a result of these trips out, Josephine Barker found the regular breath of air not tainted from being made musty and dusty by being in the house for years gave her a larger appetite and if she was willing to eat more then the others were also enabled to do the same.

Afternoons were generally spent quietly. Some (Great Aunt Jo) might sleep off their repast, others (Simon Peters) might take a further turn to the sea and back and yet others (Susan Withers-Ainable) might either find themselves at a loss or might have some time to themselves; for a companion has to devote their waking hours to the needs, desires and vicissitudes of their paying friend. There were no days off. The discovery of an hour or two of daylight to use as she wanted was something that she enjoyed.

On his return, Simon would write a letter – two a week to his parents (who felt that their plan was working ‘in spades’, to use a colloqialism that would have cause Miss Barker to wince visibly), one to his friend Jeremy in Scotland and one to Ludo in Prussia (care of the address in his home town). In the second week he received a letter from Ludo, their letters had crossed. Ludovic told him that he had met the most beautiful madchen in all Prussia, Germany, Europe indeed. He was madly in love and nothing would dissuade him from setting up home with her (nothing except penury, his parents’ refusal, her parent’s refusal, and her disinterest).

By the following Saturday what might be termed local traditions had been established: the morning constitutional, the relaxed after lunch period. Being a resident of the town, Great Aunt Josephine had occasional visitors later in the afternoon. Indeed, in the first week or two of Simon being there, the number of visitors increased as a new face always brought some excitement for the residents. Summer was always a source of interest in any case as there were so many day and week trippers about whom one could gossip, complain and be scandalised: ‘did you see that hat? My dear! That was fashionable fully twenty years ago!’; ‘My my, so many children! It’s a wonder (unsaid: that she was ever out of her bed)’; ‘I am sure he was here last year with a different young lady’. These visits sometimes required Simon to be present and politely listen for an hour or two to roundabout and pointless conversations about nothing – it would be a further year or two before he realised that what was unsaid was the important part of these conversations. One would never say that a woman had clearly had relations with more than one man, given the different appearance of her three children, but one could remark upon their unfamilial looks. Susan, of course, was always present; she would pour the tea, offer the biscuits, paint a smile on her face that was as believable as it was false. She was very good at this. In the first two weeks, Simon was allowed not to be present on two occasions. Once because he felt genuinely unwell – the oxtail at lunch had disagreed with him (something that caused Emmie Smith discomfort, which in turn caused Simon to reassure her that it was not her cooking. He recognised that she needed to be kept ‘happy’ for a contented household); and once because some particularly salacious gossip was to be discussed that a young man should not hear. Even Susan would not repeat it later, so it must have been particularly delicious. It concerned Reverend Michael, but more of that later.

In the evening, after Great Aunt Jo went to bed, another tradition had been established. The two young people would make two slices of toast each on the open fire and sit curled on the rug in the fire’s glow. Shoeless was now the order of the day. If Simon got a small thrill at seeing her dainty naked feet, it was all innocent enough to (just) allow a look of incomprehension to overawe any suggestion of impropriety. Yet they recognised something of this being ‘on the edge’, since neither mentioned it to anyone in word or letter. Emmie Smith kept her counsel too; though she was unaware of the naked feet being displayed above stairs. Truth was that Susan enjoyed seeing Simon remove his shoes and socks as well. In the bay, men and women were starting to bathe in sight of each other in bathing costumes, yet in respectable drawing rooms one simply did not disport bare feet. Miss Barker was a child of the Victorian era and her house remained there.

After two weeks, it was clear that young Mr Peters – as the newsagent insisted on calling him – was an accepted part of the house for the summer, his parents were convinced now that their family were in the front of any race to inherit. Not that they would see themselves as grasping or venal, but someone had to inherit and if Simon could act as their representative by proxy then that was all to the good.

Monday at the start of week three the day dawned bright and clear. It was a perfect day for a longer trip out. They would go out for the afternoon, recognising that that needed the bath chair to be employed, it was brought round to the front door by Simon, and Susan helped Miss Barker down the two steps and in. Then they set off. Today, they would travel down to the crowded promenade and then along to the headland where the crowds started to lessen and finally along the North Beach promenade.