17 Flashback

Her eyebrows rise at the name on the envelope. She checks if Simon is coming back, sees that he is not about yet, and decides to have a look inside the envelope. It contains a bunch of single-sheet sales-brochures.

Meanwhile, Simon is now heading back to the car, without actually having checked anything about the train-times.

Sarah spots him coming and quickly stuffs the envelope with the brochures. She carefully places it, out of sight, under the dashboard again. The driver’s door opens. Simon leans in.

"The last train just left," he informs her.

"But there’s one at 2 O’clock?" She looks surprised.

He shakes his head. "There isn’t another one ‘till tomorrow." Her face indicates that she is not entirely convinced. "Well, it’s Sunday. They only run a skeleton service," he reinforces. She looks confused. Not quite buying it. "You can go and check for yourself, if you like," he says, causally, in such a way as to emphasise that there would really be no point. He then leans back in the driver's seat.

"It’s my fault," he says, apologetically, "if I hadn’t taken that wrong turning we might have made it."

"I better find some place to stay." Sarah makes a motion to get out of the car.  

He reacts quickly.  "No. You won’t find anywhere around here," he says, with concern in his voice. She pauses, and looks directly at him. He carries on. "Look, I’ve got some business to do, in Highcliff.  There’s a small hotel I sometimes stay, near there. They’re bound to have some rooms. What would you say?" He holds his gaze on her.

"I don’t think I have much choice," she replies, with resignation.

Now, they are speeding down the road. The rain has stopped, and it is bright and dry outside.

"I know Strickham," he says, with a lift in his voice. "Beautiful beach."  

"Yes." She acknowledges him, but her voice is distant.

Sarah starts to day-dream. She experiences a flashback of herself as a young girl, riding a small horse, along a beach. There is a big, fancy, Humber car, with white tyres, parked on the sand. Her mother is dressed in a smart red suit and her father is wearing a dark jacket and lighter trousers. Sarah has a yellow top on, over blue jeans. The parents look well-to-do, judging by their clothes and car. They have a floppy-eared, friendly-looking, black dog, with them, which is straining on a short leash.

17 Flashback

Her eyebrows rise at the name on the envelope. She checks if Simon is coming back, sees that he is not about yet, and decides to have a look inside the envelope. It contains a bunch of single-sheet sales-brochures.

Meanwhile, Simon is now heading back to the car, without actually having checked anything about the train-times.

Sarah spots him coming and quickly stuffs the envelope with the brochures. She carefully places it, out of sight, under the dashboard again. The driver’s door opens. Simon leans in.

"The last train just left," he informs her.

"But there’s one at 2 O’clock?" She looks surprised.

He shakes his head. "There isn’t another one ‘till tomorrow." Her face indicates that she is not entirely convinced. "Well, it’s Sunday. They only run a skeleton service," he reinforces. She looks confused. Not quite buying it. "You can go and check for yourself, if you like," he says, causally, in such a way as to emphasise that there would really be no point. He then leans back in the driver's seat.

"It’s my fault," he says, apologetically, "if I hadn’t taken that wrong turning we might have made it."

"I better find some place to stay." Sarah makes a motion to get out of the car.  

He reacts quickly.  "No. You won’t find anywhere around here," he says, with concern in his voice. She pauses, and looks directly at him. He carries on. "Look, I’ve got some business to do, in Highcliff.  There’s a small hotel I sometimes stay, near there. They’re bound to have some rooms. What would you say?" He holds his gaze on her.

"I don’t think I have much choice," she replies, with resignation.

Now, they are speeding down the road. The rain has stopped, and it is bright and dry outside.

"I know Strickham," he says, with a lift in his voice. "Beautiful beach."  

"Yes." She acknowledges him, but her voice is distant.

Sarah starts to day-dream. She experiences a flashback of herself as a young girl, riding a small horse, along a beach. There is a big, fancy, Humber car, with white tyres, parked on the sand. Her mother is dressed in a smart red suit and her father is wearing a dark jacket and lighter trousers. Sarah has a yellow top on, over blue jeans. The parents look well-to-do, judging by their clothes and car. They have a floppy-eared, friendly-looking, black dog, with them, which is straining on a short leash.