A Seaside Affair Read Free Page B

Wise had a season here? Sold out every night. They were on the same bill as … oh what were they called … The Bachelors, that’s it! Lovely boys, they were. Great music.’
    ‘Not exactly The Beatles, were they?’ sniffed Piran, unimpressed. ‘Not my thing, Janet, see you tomorrow.’
    Janet persisted, ‘But it’s heartbreaking. There’ll be a lot of people with a lot of memories.’
    ‘It’s a white elephant and an architectural mess.’
    Leaving Janet shaking her head in disbelief he stamped out of the door with Jack, his devoted Jack Russell, scampering behind him.
    *
    Out on the balcony of the Sail Loft, the new wine bar overlooking the inner harbour, Penny was reading the paper too, with Helen squinting over her shoulder at the photos.
    ‘It’s rather a sweet building, isn’t it?’ she said.
    ‘If you like the garish fifties Festival of Britain look,’ snorted Penny.
    ‘That was a great era,’ protested Helen. ‘The war was over. Rationing was coming to an end. Women could wear full skirts and feminine clothes again.’
    ‘And Trevay built the Pavilions.’ Penny began to read aloud. ‘It says here, “
The opening summer season in 1954 ran for twelve weeks. Local man, Walter Irvine, was the first theatre manager. He called in favours from stars he’d worked with before the war, including top comedian Max Miller. Miller, best known for his risqué jokes, topped the bill and made the theatre one of the most successful entertainment venues of its day. It’s hard to imagine that now. The building is succumbing to half a century of Atlantic gales battering it from all sides on its prominent position on the Trevay headland. It is thought that the new owners may be Café Au Lait, the coffee chain well known for buying up buildings of interest and investing multimillions in redevelopment. Could they be the Pavilions’ saviour? Have your say: email your thoughts to …
blah blah blah.”’ Penny closed the paper and picked up her glass of wine. ‘Another lost cause for Simon to get involved with.’
    Helen chinked her glass with Penny’s. ‘Welcome home!’
    They sat without speaking, enjoying their own thoughts and easy in each other’s company. Helen’s eyes wandered up to the headland and the familiar outline of the Pavilions. From this distance it looked rather grand. Onion domes either side of the grand entrance, silvered central cupola above the auditorium and the tall fly tower behind. The building was still painted in its sugared-almond colours of pale blue, pink and yellow, albeit now cracked and faded. It was in a good location, away from the ancient narrow streets of Trevay, with the spectacular backdrop of the Atlantic Ocean behind it. With all that open space it had the benefit of a large car park (now used for car boot sales) and no neighbours to complain about noisy late-night exoduses.
    Helen sipped on her chilled glass of wine and shifted her focus back to the harbour. The tide was high but on its way out. She looked along the floating pontoons to the spot where Piran kept his boat tied up. It was still there. He’d better hurry if he was going to catch supper and get back before low tide. Then she saw him; his familiar gait, slightly bow-legged in his faded, shabby jeans, but very attractive. His arms hung loosely by his sides, the wind ruffling his long dark curls, lifting them to reveal the grey at his temples. His hands, nut brown, were pulled from the pockets of his salt-stained fisherman’s smock in order to pick up little Jack and help him into the boat. Helen smiled as Jack went straight to the bow and put his paws up on the ledge, almost like a living figurehead.
    ‘Look, there’s Piran,’ said Penny.
    ‘Mmm, I saw him. I wonder what he’ll say about this Pavilions business?’
    ‘He’ll be all for saving the place, I should think. As the local historian, he’s bound to be part of this action committee Simon was talking about. I’ve a sinking feeling that this