Queen Mum (21 page)

Sophie knelt up and turned right round to watch him go, open-mouthed.

‘All right, Soph?’ asked Juno. ‘Do you need the loo?’

Sophie slumped back down. ‘No, Mum. I can control my own bladder without being reminded, thanks.’

‘Pardon me for asking.’

Were they? Sophie’s eyes asked me. Were they really? On a train?

Her expression made me smile, then we both started to giggle. The more we tried not to, the worse we got.

‘I don’t know what’s tickled you two,’ said Juno.

Sophie’s eyes were watering, her chest heaving with suppressed laughter. She fell against me, helpless.

Pascale looked on, frowning in puzzlement. ‘What?’ she said. ‘What?’

‘Hey, I’ve got another one for you,’ said Manny. ‘Whose carriage do you think this is?’

‘Bored with that,’ said Juno. ‘Sophie, blow your nose, for goodness’ sake. Sit up. Now, a pound for the first person to spot the tower!’

I turned my gaze dutifully to the window, but all I could see was the couple in the toilet.

I’d been amazed when the taxi had drawn up outside the B & B. Dear God, was this it?

Juno had booked it; stick with Juno and you’ll always find the perfect restaurant, tea shop, lay-by. Her family walks in the countryside always yielded sightings of wild animals, or
encounters with interesting locals who gave them fresh pears from the orchard or let the girls hold newborn piglets. When Tom and I took Ben out for a day trip, one of us would get stung by a wasp,
or decide to be travel sick, or we’d drive forty miles to find whatever it was closed and end up eating in a motorway service station.

So if there’d been a hotel in Blackpool with William Morris soft furnishings and the
Observer
in the guest lounge, Juno would have found it. Not this.

‘I wanted to go for the authentic Blackpool experience,’ she said as we walked into the pine-panelled hall.

‘It smells of smoke,’ whispered Pascale, wrinkling her nose. ‘Why is there plastic on the carpet?’

‘We like our guests to pay up front,’ the little thin landlady was saying.

Why am I not surprised, I thought.

She pointed to a handwritten notice above the telephone. ‘Cash, cheque or any major credit card.’

‘Over to you, Manny,’ said Juno brightly.

*

*

Juno and I arrived down to breakfast at the same time, even though it was only just past seven. I’d had a bad night.

‘Where’s Tom?’

‘Asleep still. So’s Ben. I hadn’t the heart to wake them.’

‘Yes, my two are sleeping like princesses.’ Juno lowered her voice. ‘Did you know, Soph still sucks her thumb? She’d kill me if she knew I’d told you. It’s
quite sweet. By the way, I don’t know what you said to her while I was away, but she’s been positively angelic the last fortnight. For Soph, I mean.’

She glanced up at the door but there was no one there.

‘Is Manny on his way?’

‘No, he’s taken it into his head to go for a walk along the beach. Banging about the room at six thirty, like it was a weekday. I said to him, “It’s not Suffolk, you
know; if you want windswept and deserted, you’ve come to the wrong place.” By then, of course, I was properly awake. I said I’d go with him but he had a headache and wanted quiet.
Do you think we should ring the bell in reception, or something? I’m parched.’

I wandered out into the hall and listened at the kitchen door. I could hear movement behind it, so I knocked timidly. The landlady opened it and said, ‘Breakfast starts seven thirty, but
I’ll do you a pot of tea.’

‘Is there coffee?’ I said, thinking of Juno, but the door had closed again.

I went back to wait. Juno was gazing round the room as though she was at a gallery. ‘Look at all the crystal animals. And the wall plates threaded with ribbon. It’s so kitsch. But
then that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? Like us eating fish and chips out of newspaper.’

I nodded. Mum had some crystal animals that she displayed on a mirror for dramatic effect. She’d have thought this place was home from home.

‘Though I say it myself,’ Juno went on, ‘this trip was one of my better ideas. You know, that corner bureau’s quite a nice piece. Look at the little ivory insert round
the keyhole.’

The landlady came in then with the teapot and crockery. ‘Planning anything nice today?’

‘What would you recommend?’

She tilted her head and considered. ‘There’s no end of fun you can have in Blackpool. There’s the piers, the Winter Gardens, the trams, the waxworks. Take your pick. All
sorts.’

‘Joe would have loved the trams,’ said Juno, when we were alone again.

I loved her for remembering to include him. Tom might have thought the same thing but he’d never have said it aloud.

‘That’s true. He’d have been badgering for a ride from the minute we got here. And a go on the donkeys. And those drop handles on the bureau would have all been flipped up
before you could say “Edwardian”. I used to be forever telling him off about that.’

Juno poured the tea but said nothing. It was all right, though.

An old couple wandered in and sat at the table by the window. The man had tusks of tissue coming out of each nostril.

‘He gets these very bad bleeds,’ the woman explained, turning in her chair to stare at Juno. ‘I think it’s his tablets.’ She picked up the menu but continued to
look over at our corner. When her pot of tea came, she was so busy gawping she poured her milk on the cloth.

‘Whatever are you doing?’ said her husband. ‘You chow me for mekkin’ a mess.’

‘Shift your plate,’ she snapped.

Juno raised her eyebrows. ‘What it is to be famous,’ she whispered.

*

*

Manny made an appearance just as we were finishing our toast.

‘Everything all right, ladies?’ He bent to kiss Juno, then pulled up a chair between us. ‘Breakfast good?’

‘Lovely, thanks. I said no to the big plate of grease but Ally’s had it and wolfed it down.’

‘I can see.’ Manny took the last piece of toast from the rack and, leaning across, wiped it round my plate. Then he took a huge bite.

‘Really!’ said Juno. ‘Headache’s gone, then?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Did you have a nice walk?’ I asked. He hadn’t shaved and his chin, as it moved up and down, was dark and rough.

He swallowed the toast and looked pleased with himself. ‘I went for a paddle.’

Both of us looked in surprise at his feet as if we expected to see waves lapping there.

‘It was great, refreshing. You should try it.’

*

Juno had decided we should go up to the top of the tower first.

‘It’s an intrinsic part of the Blackpool experience,’ she said. ‘You can’t come to Blackpool and not have a trip up the tower. It’s part of our cultural
heritage.’

‘The tower was opened in 1894,’ read Pascale as we rose slowly in the lift. ‘It weighs two thousand, nine hundred and forty-three tons. Ten thousand light bulbs are used to
decorate its exterior. Two thousand ice creams and six thousand cups of coffee are sold in the tower premises every day.’

I shut my eyes and tried to pretend I was on the ground. Tom reached for my hand.

When the doors opened it was into an enclosed space with large windows.

‘You all right?’ said Tom.

‘I don’t think she’ll be doing the Walk of Faith, will you, Ally?’ said Manny, slapping me on the back. ‘Come on, there’s no need to be so anxious. Look, even
those Brownies are having a good time.’

It was true; seven-year-old girls in yellow sweatshirts were taking it in turns to skid across the glass plate set into the floor. One of them even stopped in the middle and stared straight down
at the three-hundred-and-eighty-foot drop below her little feet. I wanted to rush over and drag her to safety.

‘Not coming up to the next level, then?’ Manny called, already halfway up the spiral staircase.

‘I will,’ said Tom at once. Ben and the girls scrambled after him. I stayed by the gift shop playing with the snow globes.

‘Spectacular views,’ said Juno. ‘You can see of all the piers, the big dipper, the ferris wheel; some gorgeous Victorian buildings too. Do you want to come to the side and look
out?’

‘I’m fine,’ I said, and she left me alone.

On the way down to the ground floor we stopped off at the ballroom balcony and marvelled at the gold on the ceiling and the classical-style murals.

‘Isn’t it deliciously tacky?’ said Juno, sitting herself down on one of the red-velvet seats.

I didn’t think it was tacky at all. I flopped down next to her and leaned over the side to watch the elderly couples waltzing below. For some reason, I wanted to cry.

‘It’s like
The Wheeltappers and Shunters Club
,’ said Tom. ‘Look at the stage!’

Out of the floor, in front of the magnificent swagged curtains, rose a white Wurlitzer. The music flowed round the room eerily.

‘That Wurlitzer organ delivers seventeen thousand, seven hundred and forty-five numbers each season,’ read Pascale. ‘Between the months of July and October, four hundred and
forty-eight thousand people dance in the Tower ballroom.’