A Better World than This by Marie Joseph Page A

criss-crossed over his chest, one bag for the money and the other for the tickets. He was well aware of the fact that you met all sorts, but there were some that should be locked up. Definitely.
    By the time Martha was ensconced in a deckchair on the sands with the bag safely between her feet she felt a bit better. Sam had reappeared bearing spades and buckets and two sets of paper flags for the sandpies.
    ‘Would you like a drink of tea out of the flask, Mother?’ Daisy knelt by the deckchair, flushed and excited because
he
had come back.
    Martha said no, even though her mouth felt parched and dry. She hadn’t seen any Conveniences as she stood on the prom, so where on earth would she
go
? They were whispering together, her Daisy and that man. She could see them, even though she couldn’t hear what they were saying, and Daisy was smiling and nodding her head, the silly faggot.
    Martha closed her eyes. What was wrong with her? For a moment the sea and sky had dipped and swayed together, merging in shiny blue and green ripples, all too much for her.
    ‘Are you all right, Mother?’
    She opened her eyes to see Daisy smiling at her. With too much lipstick on, Martha thought. Oh, the silly, silly girl.
    ‘Sam and I are going for a little walk. You won’t mind keeping an eye on the children, will you?’
    ‘As long as they don’t go near the sea.’ Martha nodded through the veil at the row of sandpies and the castle coming on nicely under Jimmy’s expert efforts.
    ‘It’s Windsor Castle. I’m going to put the Union Jack on top. Watch me!’
    Martha smiled and nodded before closing her eyes again, folding her hands over her stomach and settling down into one of her jerky twitchy sleeps.
    Up on the promenade Sam took Daisy’s hand in his. He glanced back at the sands. ‘They like your ma, there’s no doubt about that. Kids are funny the way they take to some people straight away. And they like you too, but that’s not surprising.’
    As they walked away they could see the South Pier in the distance, its Moorish cupolas glistening in the bright sparkling sunshine. Sam was very quiet, but Daisy was so happy she hardly noticed his preoccupation. A trio of girls in floppy hats and beach pyjamas walked past them, licking ice-cream cornets. Mill girls, Daisy guessed, intent on having a good time away from their looms in some vast and noisy weaving shed.
    ‘They used to say that if folks had any money left over at the end of their holiday week they would fling it out of the train window on the journey home. Just to show they’d had a marvellous time and spent the lot. Then start saving again for next year.’
    Daisy pointed out a man with a handkerchief knotted over his bald head trotting along in his wife’s shadow, a fat short woman in a wallpaper-patterned dress, her plump bare arms mottled red by the sun.
    ‘They’re like a couple on one of those rude postcards, aren’t they?’ She watched the couple with delight. ‘Oh, Sam. Thank you for bringing us. I do love you for it.’
    At once Sam dropped her hand, striding along more quickly, but Daisy merely tucked the hand into the crook of his arm.
    ‘Just look at the Pleasure Beach! Isn’t it wonderful? I once went on the Big Dipper. If I’d coughed I’m sure I would have spat me stomach out. It was in me mouth, that’s for sure.’ With the habit she had of suddenly turning serious, her eyes clouded. ‘When you’re here you can forget that behind all this glitter there are thousands of people on the dole who can’t afford to come, even for a day.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘Do you read a lot, Sam?’
    There were so many things about this man she didn’t know. He had told her very little, she realized; almost nothing about his home. Or his wife. She looked up at the sky, as if surprised to find that the sun was not covered by a cloud. But today the sky and the sea were as one, merging into the far distance with a lone seagull wheeling and dipping its wings