Summer Holiday

“We’re all going on a summer holiday, no more working for a week or two.” A family vacation to an old haunt brings back touching memories and encourages the grandparents to take on a bit of a challenge

Bren was having great fun in the back of the car, swaying from side to side with the grandchildren in time to the rather out-of-tune singing. She’d been a great fan of Cliff back in the day, and this particular hit was one she had rolled out every year when taking her own children on their annual outing to Bournemouth.

In those days they’d stayed in a B&B in a street on a hill about 10 minutes’ walk from the beach.they went everywhere on foot, though Heather and Stu used to complain about sore feet, particularly when they’d got sand in their shoes.

“Aren’t I always telling you to brush off the sand and dry your feet properly before you put your sandals back on?”

“But, Mummy, you keep telling us to hurry up,” Heather said.

There was a certain amount of justice in the statement, but Bren wasn’t having any of it. She was certain that it was only the walk back up the hill in the evening that stopped the fish and chips and the candy floss settling on her hips.

Julian looked at his wife affectionately. In the middle row of the newly acquired MPV he was facing the back of the vehicle, and from that vantage point he was able to enjoy the spectacle of Bren, wedged between Polly and Jack and having a thoroughly good time.

The old song brought back many memories, but this holiday promised to be different from any they’d experienced before.

For a start, they’d never been away with their grandchildren. Now they’d had this invitation from their daughter and they’d accepted with alacrity.

Heather and Chris were proud of their new car and, once they’d decided on their destination, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to ask Bren and Julian to go with them.

Chris, sitting next to Heather in the front, joined in the singing. He had rather a nice voice.

“I thought you hated this song,” Heather whispered out of the corner of her mouth, not wanting to offend her mother.

“Normally yes, but in the car, well, it seems appropriate. I notice your Dad isn’t joining in.”

“Be grateful for that. His voice is even worse than mine!” she said with a grin.

“In that case, I am grateful.” Chris could see the back of Julian’s head in his rearview mirror.“he may not be singing, but from what I can see he’s got all the movements.”

“Yes, it’s surprising that someone with such a terrible voice has such an amazing sense of rhythm.

“He’s always been a fabulous dancer. In fact, that’s how I learned to dance – with my dad at the ballroom in Bournemouth.”

Chris joined in again but stopped after a while. Not so Bren. She sang all the way, splitting the song into phrases and giving each child their own part to sing.

As a way of keeping them entertained on a long car journey, it was inspired.

“We’re nearly there!” Heather cried as they drove past the big Welcome To Bournemouth sign.

These days the family rented a holiday cottage for the week, the same one for the last three years.with four bedrooms it had more than enough room for the six of them. Bren and Julian were delighted with it, particularly with the en-suite walk-in shower.

“I’d imagined we’d be staying somewhere like the old B and B where we used to go.to tell you the truth, I was dreading climbing up that hill,” Bren confessed.

“When I think what you used to put us through, Mum! I can still remember the ache in my calves because it was so steep.”

“And your brother falling asleep on Dad’s shoulder.that’s just how it was, though, and it didn’t do any of us any harm.”

Bren looked around. “There’s a lot more room in this place than where we used to stay when you were little.there was one bathroom on the landing which we had to share with the other guests. No walk-in showers in those days.” Heather laughed.

“Yes, you don’t have to share with anybody.and we’ve a lovely lounge if we want to be here in the evenings, which is what we usually do.

“I remember we couldn’t go back to the B and B until it was late because there was nowhere to sit.

“These days we spend most of the day on the beach, weather permitting, and maybe go out for lunch.then we come back here later and I cook.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a holiday?”

“It is, Mum. Different kitchen. Not being able to find the right utensils. Different pattern on

the crockery. More of an adventure, and you know I’ve always liked cooking.”

“I’ll help.you’re not the only one who enjoys cooking.”

“Well, you can put your feet up for the time being while I make us all some lunch. Chris and Dad must have finished unpacking the car by now.

“You could help me with supper later, though,” Heather said, leaving her mother to settle in.

Bren put her toiletries in the shower room and laid her brush and a few other bits and pieces on the dressing-table. She lay on the bed with her favourite magazine.

She was fast asleep when Polly came in half an hour later to tell her that lunch was on the table and if she didn’t get a move on they’d start without her. Polly

and Jack wolfed their food down.

They were seven and five and couldn’t wait to get to the beach.

They hired sun-loungers for the adults and the children got busy making sandcastles.

The fourth lounger was pretty much redundant as Chris joined the children, scraping away the layer of warm, dry sand to reach a damper level lower down.

“See, kids? Your castle will hold together much better with this.”

It didn’t take Julian long to forgo his dignity and get down beside them.

Jack ran down to the water to fill his bucket again and again, and emptied the contents into the moat which his father had formed around their creation.

“This is luxury,” Bren said, stretching out on the sunbed.“i’m glad you insisted I brought a sun hat with me.”

Chris and Julian went off with the children to buy some candy floss and Heather looked over at her mother. She was surprised to see tears on her cheeks. “What is it, Mum? What’s wrong?” “Nothing, darling.these are tears of joy. Once you and your brother grew up and left home, your dad and I took several exotic holidays.

“We’ve seen some amazing things but nothing ever came close to our annual week in Bournemouth.we never thought about coming here again, and I don’t suppose we ever would have if you hadn’t asked us.talk about turning the clock back!”

“Well, just enjoy it,” Heather urged.“i haven’t forgotten those times, either.why do you think we started coming here with our own children?” Bren’s face lit up. The family were walking across the sand towards them bearing drippy ice-cream cones and candy floss.

“Have you looked behind you, Bren?” Julian said.“i’ll wager this is the same bit of beach where we used to sit ourselves all those years ago.the parade of shops doesn’t look like it’s changed at all.”

“It’s why we picked it, Dad,” Heather explained.“stu does the same when he brings his family.we often talk about those wonderful times – in spite of the walk up the hill!”

She moved off, leaving Bren and Julian alone.

“What if we see if we can climb the hill to the old place?” Julian said.

“I’m game if you are,” Bren responded, wedging her sun hat more firmly on to her head as the wind blew up.

They headed unerringly towards their old haunt, a route they’d done so many times they could have found it with their eyes closed.

“Oh, no!” Bren wailed as they approached the old B&B.“IT’S gone. They’ve turned it into another shop.”

She was disappointed but Julian took her hand and pulled her forward.

“I just want to see.” He bent down next to the brick pillar.“yes, it’s still here, look. JP and RP scratched into the brickwork. I loved you then, and I love you now, Mrs Pike.” Julian kissed his wife. “I love you, too. But I know what Heather meant when she spoke

This is luxury. I’ll wager this is the same bit of beach where we used to sit ourselves all those years ago

about aching calves from climbing the hill. I think maybe we won’t do that again.”

“OK. I just wanted to see, for old times’ sake.”

“You’re a daft old thing. I wouldn’t change you a bit, though. Did you notice the sweet shop is still there? Let’s pop in on the way back and get some ‘Welcome To Bournemouth’ rock.”

“I wonder if they do one that says ‘Welcome Back To Bournemouth’?” Julian said, as he took her hand and they made their way back down the hill.

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