The Love Beach Read Free Page B

Kate. Kate had told Mag to be careful not to fall from the seat. Mag, who was four, said: 'We are going on the ship too! We're going too!'
    'Soon,' he had assured them. 'Quite soon. When I write a letter to Mam.'
    Kate had put the little girl on her lap and showed her the sea‑birds from the Channel who had come to winter in the marshes. They went through Cardiff, Bute Street trying to get its Sunday morning eyes open, and then to Barry where they got a taxi to the beach because the little seaside station was closed at that wrong end of the year.
    What a day that had been. What a wonderful last day. He had never realized the beach was so big and he had been going there all the years he could remember. All the rubbish of summer had been taken away by the huge tide and by the corporation workmen. The sand was flat and damp, the sea grey and tired, and there was no one there but a man taking a mongrel for a walk. The road made by their footsteps went clearly along the sand into the remote end of the beach and up there the man could be seen throwing stones for the dog.
    Davies and Kate, hands held, each holding the glove of one child, walked the empty beach. David and Mag wanted to go into the sea or make sand castles. Kate told them they could draw pictures and write their names in the sand. Davies walked her on a little way. A dozen oyster catchers, strangers, black and white with orange beaks, hobbled about like men on crutches.
    'Never see them down here in the summer,' he had said. 'Don't blame them,' replied Kate. They seemed to have less to discuss today than ever. He was going to tell her again, how good it would be in Australia, but he stopped himself. He had already said it. The funfair was all closed up and covered with sheets of tarpaulin and canvas, like an exhibition waiting to be unveiled. The cafés and the hotels across from the beach looked out to the slate sea and the cold ships moving on it, speechlessly and with blind, shuttered eyes. No one, it seemed, had anything to say.
    'We'd better go back,' she had suggested, half turning as she said it. 'We can't leave them too far behind.'
    'No, of course,' he said. The ' children were drawing and digging by the shore and had not looked up. Davies turned and as he did so caught Kate and clumsily folded his arms about her. She was a bit taller than he was and it had always embarrassed him to embrace her standing up. It had probably looked just as odd on the beach, on that last day, but there was no one to see or to laugh. He put his lips to her cheek and turned her head so that they could kiss properly. It was not timed very well, not very successful he thought now, but they kissed anyway, miles from anybody but David and little Mag.
    'It'll be all right, you know,' he had said. 'It will, truly, Kate.'
    'Yes,' she had answered.
    It had been a wonderful last day.
     
     
    Conway pushed against the cabin door. 'Didn't go to sleep on me did you?' he said.
    Davies turned. 'I didn't,' he confirmed. 'Did she?'
    Conway breathed a laugh without any sound coming out. He angled his head to hear the boots of MacAndrews. 'Still navigating eh? He's a fine skipper that.'
    'And you're a fine bastard,' said Davies.
    Conway said: 'And you're a great butter and fats salesman, not to mention adulterer's look‑out. Thanks.'
    'I wasn't sleeping anyway. The boots keep me awake.
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    Were you well received, or is that being a bit indelicate for a mere adulterer's look‑out?'
    'Very well received,' nodded Conway. 'You should try it yourself. She's open all night.'
    'No thanks. I'm married anyway, and I keep to it.'
    'Do you?' said Conway as though Davies had revealed some strange hobby. 'Where's your wife. In New South Wales?'
    'No, the old one.'
    'Oh, I forgot, you're one of those bloody Taffy people.'
    'And adulterer's look‑out.'
    'You should try it some time. Help you a hell of a lot. You wouldn't be so worked uD and intense.'
    'I told you, she's in South Wales.'
    Conway said: