Pam Weaver - A Mother’s Gift

‘They were only one and eleven each,’ said Dottie happily. ‘And besides, it was my pleasure.’

‘What do you say?’ Mary demanded of her children.

Five happy faces looked in her direction and chorused, ‘Thank you, Auntie Dottie.’

Reg gave Dottie a dirty look but just then Jack and Tom appeared with the crate of beer and fizzy pop.

‘Hope you’ve remembered a bottle opener,’ Reg remarked as he tied a knot in each corner of his handkerchief to make a sun hat. He had already bagged a deckchair and placed himself on the edge of the group.

Everyone looked helplessly from one to the other until Peaches rummaged in her handbag and produced one. ‘Thank the Lord for that,’ laughed Jack as he set about offering the bottles around and removing the tops.

When it came to her turn, Peaches shook her head. ‘I’d sooner have a cuppa.’

‘Then look no further,’ smiled Dottie, reaching for her Thermos flask.

In the end, the men had beer, the women had a cup of tea and the kids shared from a big bottle of cherryade with a replaceable glass stopper.

‘Can I take the empties back to the off-licence and get the tuppence, Mum?’ asked Billy.

‘We haven’t emptied the buggers yet,’ laughed Tom.

‘Language,’ said Mary.

‘Whoops, sorry love.’

The deckchair attendant turned up. Reg appeared to be asleep, so Tom parted with three bob. ‘He didn’t waste much time,’ he grumbled good-naturedly.

The sea glistened in the bright sunlight and the air was filled with the happy shouts of excited children. Dottie kicked off her shoes and let the sand get between her bare toes. Mary’s kids kept themselves amused for hours, making sandcastles and running to the sea with their new buckets to get water for the moat.

Little Gary joined in for a while but it was obvious he wasn’t really feeling well. It didn’t take long before he was all curled up on Mary’s lap with his thumb in his mouth.

At one o’clock they ate their lunch: egg sandwiches, bloater paste sandwiches and cheese sandwiches; but no matter how hard they tried, they all ended up with a little sand on them. Mary handed round some of her fruitcake and Dottie offered them some Victoria sponge. Then they made the kids lay down for a rest. The little ones were shaded by the deckchairs or a blanket suspended between the chairs as they lay underneath.

‘I reckon you should have gone in for the Miss Littlehampton, Dottie,’ said Tom holding out his newspaper. ‘You’re better-looking than that June Hadden any day.’

‘Oh, Tom,’ laughed Dottie. ‘I’m a married woman!’

‘So is she,’ said Mary. ‘She’s a mother of two.’

‘Have a go at the Miss Sussex competition.’ Tom encouraged. ‘That feller from Variety Bandbox is going to crown the winner. Derek Roy.’

‘I don’t think Reg …’ Dottie began.

‘Reg won’t mind, will you, Reg?’

Reg had been lying back in the deckchair with his eyes closed. He opened them to find everyone staring at him, willing him to agree.

‘What, and make a fool of herself?’

‘Your Dottie is a real smasher, Reg,’ Tom protested.

‘Come on, Reg,’ said Mary. ‘Be a sport.’

Reg’s eyes narrowed and Dottie laid her hand on Mary’s arm.

‘Who’s for ice cream?’ said Jack and a chorus of little voices, all wide-awake now, cried out, ‘Me, me!’

‘Good timing, Jack,’ grinned Peaches.

After their ice creams, Gary, Connie and Christopher slept for upwards of an hour while Susan and Maureen managed half an hour. Billy was allowed to go to play by the water’s edge as soon as the others were asleep. Dottie walked with him, not only to keep an eye on him, but also to have a bit of a paddle herself.

She and Billy had a special relationship. He was only little when his dad died but until Tom Prior came along, he’d so desperately tried to do what everyone told him and be the man of the house. He was fiercely protective of his mum. Dottie had never ever told Mary how he’d cried the day of their wedding. His mother and Tom were off on honeymoon – an afternoon at the pictures in Brighton – and Dottie was looking after Billy, Maureen and Susan in their new home. The babies were sleeping and she’d thought Billy was quite happy playing with his toy farmyard but all at once he’d burst into tears. At first she’d thought it was because he was jealous of Tom: after all, he’d had his mother to himself for most of his life. Up until the time Billy’s father was killed, the war had meant that, apart from a couple of periods of leave, Billy had hardly ever seen him. But as she comforted him, Dottie realised the child had taken his ‘job’ as ‘man of the house’ so seriously, that the tears were tears of relief. Now at last Tom could have the responsibility of looking after his mother.

As she and Billy paddled in the water, Reg, his trouser legs rolled up to his calves, came to join them.

Earlier that morning, Dottie had been thinking about that letter from Australia again. She kept forgetting to say something about it and, although he’d obviously taken it and read it, Reg still hadn’t said anything about it. It was probably of no con sequence. A letter from the wife of an old army pal or something … but it was funny that he hadn’t mentioned it again.

She was about to ask him about it, when he said, ‘You’d make somebody a good little mother.’ His remark caught Dottie by surprise. She stared at him, unsure what to say. How odd. Was he feeling the urge again? Oh dear. Could he hang onto it until they were home, or was he going to suggest they go somewhere?

As they all paddled together, Dottie felt she couldn’t be happier. The sun, the sea, the lovely weather, their friends on the beach and Reg … She wanted to tell him so, but she couldn’t embarrass him in front of Billy.

Picking up her skirts, Dottie ran further into the water. Billy followed and the two of them splashed about a bit.

‘Fancy a quick look around Woolworths?’ Mary suggested when Dottie and Billy came back. Reg was already back in his deckchair.

‘Ye-ah,’ said Billy.

‘What about the kids?’ asked Dottie.

‘I’ll stay and keep an eye on them,’ said Peaches.

‘The men can look after them for five minutes, can’t they?’ said Mary.

‘Reg?’ Dottie asked.

‘I’m reading the paper.’

‘Can I come?’ said Billy.

Tom and Jack waved them away. ‘Go on, get on with you and enjoy yourselves.’

‘And me?’ Billy tried again.

‘You heard your mother,’ said Tom. ‘Us men’ll have to look after the kids. About time you took our Christopher over to the toilets, isn’t it?’

‘Aw, Dad!’

The three friends set off for the town. As they walked along the promenade, Peaches fluffed out her blonde hair with her fingers. Dottie linked her arms through theirs and they began an impromptu dance until Mary slipped and trod on some man’s toe.

‘Oi!’ he shouted.

‘Sorry,’ Mary called as they all dissolved into laughter.

‘He’ll have a flat foot now,’ said Peaches. ‘Step – flip, step – flop …’

It was all very silly but Dottie laughed until she held her sides. ‘I haven’t had a laugh like this for ages.’

They stopped off to look at the exhibits in the big marquee on the green.

‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Mary, holding a prize-winning jar of lemon curd up to the light, ‘your preserves are every bit as good as these, Dottie.’

Dottie blushed happily.

‘And I tell you what,’ said Peaches. ‘I’m busting for the toilet again. Let’s head towards the town.’

The friends linked arms once more and set off to find the public conveniences. Outside again Peaches said, ‘I’ll be glad when this one comes and I can have some fun again. Fancy coming to Brighton with me once I get my figure back? I can’t wait to get some new things.’