Looking back, it hadn’t really been a bad day after all. His good humour had returned as he had watched her hitch up the skirt of her dress, slip off her shoes then run down the beach to paddle her feet in the cold water. He had watched her splashing about among children and young people who were braving the chilly sea. She was just like a child herself, he had thought, as she had run back to him her eyes sparkling, her feet caked in sand and the skirt of her dress soaking wet. She’d never been to the seaside before she confided. The first time she had even seen sand was when they had entered the mouth of the Mersey on the Leinster and that had only been at a distance. He had given her his handkerchief to wipe off the sand before she replaced her shoes and then, arm in arm, they had toured the fairground. They had indulged in one daring ride on the ferris wheel which had her in paroxysms of laughter one minute and screams the next, when she had clung to him like a limpet.
