She felt so grand sitting beside him in his fine motor which he said was a Rover, she who’d never been in a motor car in her life much less knew the name of any. Her first sight of the sea took her breath away; the expanse of it, the salt tang of it, the way the wavelets kissed the pebble beach with small hissing sounds, the bathing huts, the bathers. They had lunch in a little cafe on the promenade and later a cream tea, driving home as the summer sun began to sink, his hand on her knee, she letting it stay there; she felt very much at ease and in charge of things, like a real lady. Sometimes he drove in silence, other times he talked of all they’d done that day. ‘I’ve just had my apartment redecorated,’ he said as they drove across London Bridge. He’d told her about his apartment in Chelsea. ‘Cost a mint. I think it looks terrific but it would be nice if you could take a peek at it for a minute or two, to tell me what you think. It’s not far out of your way and I can take you home immediately afterwards.’ ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ The idea made her sink back into her seat.
