he made with the leftovers from his cobbler’s shop. She could feel the cool leather against her bare legs, and the way the seat cushioned her, but she sat ramrod stiff, terrified she might damage it. Mrs Reilly must be very rich to own such a car.
‘Off we go then. Hold on tight. This old girl gets a bit temperamental, but she’ll be fine once we get going.’
Sally pressed back into the seat and held on as the engine spluttered into life and they jerked their way down the hill. But as the car slowly rattled and backfired its way past Woolworths and the Odeon cinema, she forgot to be nervous, for the patch of blue at the bottom of the road had captured her full attention.
They reached the crossroads at the bottom of the hill and Peggy drew to a halt. ‘There you are,’ she said, with obvious pride. ‘That’s the English Channel.’
‘So it’s not the sea then?’
‘Well, it is, but only the bit that divides us from France and the rest of Europe.’
‘Cor,’ breathed Ernie. ‘It’s big, ain’t it?’
Sally gazed in awe and disbelief, unable to voice her agreement. It was enormous, stretching from the towering white cliffs at one end of the promenade to the rolling hills at the other – and as far as the eye could see to the horizon where it seemed to melt into the sky. The blue was laced with white frothy waves that splashed against the shingle and the enormous concrete blocks that had been placed haphazardly across the bay. Gulls swooped and swirled overhead, flags fluttered, and the people walking on the promenade had to hold on to their hats and bend into the October wind.
She thought how envious her friends back home would be, but as she eyed the thick coils of barbed wire, the warnings that the beach had been mined, and the concrete gun emplacements that lined the promenade, she realised that, even if she did get up the nerve, she would never be able to actually get down on the beach, or dip her toes in the water.
Peggy seemed to have read her thoughts. ‘It doesn’t look its best at the moment,’ she said, engaging the gears with a clash. ‘Even the pier has been closed off for the duration. The army came the other day and dismantled half of it to prevent enemy landings.’
She turned the steering wheel and they headed east along the road towards the high white cliffs that were topped with grass, and the occasional gun emplacement. ‘If you want to go on the beach, then the only place is down there where the fishing fleet comes in – but it’s a busy place with the boats in and out, and not very safe.’
Sally stared up at the cliffs and back to the sea. She took in the black boats with their sails and ropes, and the men who clambered over them in their thick jumpers and sturdy rubber boots. She could even see the nets hanging out to dry in the wind, and the lobster pots stacked on the shingle. The nearest she’d ever come to seeing fish was in Billingsgate Market.
‘I feel sick,’ muttered Ernie.
Peggy slammed on the brake and Sally rushed to get him out of the car. ‘Oh, Ernie,’ she sighed, as he vomited copiously down a nearby drain. ‘I told you not to eat so much,’ she scolded softly.
Ernie’s little face was green-tinged as she cleaned him up with Mrs Reilly’s spotless handkerchief, and gave him a hug.
‘Too much excitement and chocolate cake, by the look of it,’ Peggy said, as she helped him back to the car, told him to lie down, and gently tucked a blanket round him. ‘We’ll be home soon,’ she soothed.
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Reilly.’ Sally’s face felt hot and she couldn’t look the woman in the eye. ‘He’s ruined yer ’ankie, an’ all. I’ll get you another one as soon as I’m earning.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Peggy, taking the offending article and stuffing it in her handbag. ‘All children are sick at one time or another and the handkerchief can go in the wash with everything else.’ She clashed the gears and the car stuttered along the seafront. ‘If I had a penny for every time Bob and Charlie had been sick, then I’d be a rich woman.’ She smiled at Sally and patted her knee. ‘Don’t worry, dear,’ she murmured. ‘We’re nearly home, and he’ll be as right as rain after a