High Street. After a leisurely stroll, during which she’d explored every shop window and market stall, she bought a penny’s-worth of humbugs for Ernie to share with Bob and Charlie, and headed back down the hill towards the seafront. The town hall clock was striking two, and she was amazed at how quickly the morning had passed.
She reached the seafront and settled out of the wind on a concrete bench that had been set inside an ornate, open-fronted shelter. Her first, awestruck impression of Cliffehaven had been interrupted by Ernie being sick; now she had time to take it in and get a real feel for the place.
The pier must have looked lovely before the army ruined it. Now the once-elegant attraction had been boarded up and festooned in barbed wire. It stretched into the sea rather forlornly, stranded like some forgotten island far from shore. But the sea still sparkled and softly splashed against the great iron feet of the abandoned pier, and Sally hoped it wouldn’t be too long before it was open again, and she could have the chance to explore it.
She turned her attention to the way the town sprawled along the edges of the crescent of shingle that ran between jagged white cliffs to the east, and softly rolling hills to the west. It wasn’t anywhere as big as London, of course, but it was a fair size, with houses thickly massed nearest the sea, thinning out beyond the town centre and dotted among the hills that ran behind it like protective arms. She could imagine it in peacetime, with lots of families walking the promenade, children splashing in the sea, music coming from the pier, and colourful stalls selling cockles and whelks and candyfloss.
Sally let her gaze drift over the large hotels and private houses that lined the seafront. They were mostly boarded up for the duration, but it was clear from the different flags that fluttered from turrets and poles that some of them had been taken over by the forces. She could even see servicemen rushing back and forth or lounging on the balconies and terraces with pints of beer.
She turned her attention back to the promenade which had been closed off with rolls of barbed wire and heavy artillery emplacements, There was still a strip of pavement to stroll along and, although there were no deckchairs like in the postcards she’d seen in the corner-shop window, the bright winter’s day had brought people out of their houses to stroll, or watch the Australian soldiers play a noisy game of football in the street.
Soldiers, sailors and airmen in the uniforms of many countries strolled in groups along what was left of the promenade. They were whistling and calling out to the giggling girls, who pretended not to be watching them. Sally smiled wistfully, and felt strangely distanced from it all.
She moved away from the bench and pulled up her coat collar as she headed into the east wind. The London streets were full of servicemen as well, and she’d come to recognise the nasal twang of New Zealanders, and the slow drawl of the Australians, which was so different to that of the Yanks, who seemed to think they owned the place, regardless of the fact they weren’t even part of the war yet.
She shyly walked past a group of whistling sailors, keeping her chin tucked into her collar, and her gaze firmly on the pavement as they tried to coax her into talking to them. She wished she knew how to react without giving them the come-on – wished she could laugh, and flirt, and treat the whole thing as a bit of harmless fun. But she was too inexperienced and unsure of herself. Unlike her mother, who always had an answer, a smile, or a flirtatious look to throw back at them. It would have driven Dad wild if he’d caught her behaving the way she did when he wasn’t around.
The sailors finally gave up and she was left in peace to continue her walk towards the fishing boats that sheltered beneath the cliffs. There were several moored on the narrow strip of shingle that was free of barbed wire and hidden mines, and the fishermen were doing a roaring trade as the housewives jostled to buy a share of the day’s catch. It was all very different to Billingsgate, and even the smell wasn’t quite so bad because of the sharp sea wind.