Chapter 12

Margaret couldn't believe what she was seeing, Martin and his wife in a passionate embrace, out on the beach in full view of all the resort guests! Whilst she was waiting on room service to bring her evening meal, she was lounging on the balcony of her room gazing out at the sea remembering the delights she had enjoyed earlier in the day. She had noticed that Martin his family were amongst the few remaining resort guests strolling along the beach as the sun dropped further and further below the horizon. Martin was holding his wife's hand as they walked and James was running back and forth between his parents and the water's edge. They were the picture of happy domesticity.

Room service interrupted her reverie and when she returned to the window, she noticed they had stopped to take in the view, such as it was with the sun well below the horizon. She watched them interact standing closely watching James testing the water as it rushed up to tickle his toes and rushed back out again. She was about to sit down to her dinner when Martin suddenly embraced his wife and gave her an extended kiss, a kiss that lasted much longer than was seemly. Did they not realise that they were in full view of other resort guests who might be about? True they were no more than silhouettes against the scant light remaining in the evening sky, but Margaret could see that there were several other guests strolling through the gardens or sitting out on their balconies just as she was. The view of the village lights twinkling on the hillside just over the harbour were enchanting, but any one of those guests, should they glance towards the sea, would be a witness to the couple on the beach sharing an intimate moment. That kind of behaviour should be reserved for the privacy of their room, not the public beach. What if his colleagues were to observe them? It was scandalous.

Thank God for James, who soon required their attention, breaking their embrace. Martin picked him up and they made their way back to the building, Martin carrying James with one arm while still holding Louisa's hand. As they wound their way through the gardens adjacent to the beach, she saw them pause looking at something along the path's edge. They turned to continue, but not before Louisa reached up to kiss Martin's cheek. She supposed the physical affection they shared implied that they were a happy family, but she was embarrassed by their lack of decorum. She knew her dinner was getting cold, but she couldn't stop looking. She felt like the proverbial moth to the flame. They stopped briefly to chat with an older gentleman and his much younger wife and child before entering the building. The man looked familiar and she later realised that it was Robert Dashwood, one of Christopher's younger colleagues. Had he remarried? She remembered his wife Grace had passed away several years ago. She had been a good friend, a colleague of sorts in the hospital auxiliary. They had had two daughters who by now would be grown with families of their own. Perhaps that woman was one of his daughters with his grandson? Whether she was a new wife or his daughter didn't matter. Either way, it must now be considered not only acceptable, but desirable to bring family to these conferences. My, how times had changed!

Margaret lifted the cover to her evening meal. It looked delicious and fortunately it had stayed warm enough whilst she was riveted on the drama out on the beach. This resort certainly had an accomplished chef on staff. Her mid-day meal had been equally gratifying. "Scrummy" was the word they would have used way back in the day in school. It couldn't be better.

All in all, her day had been wonderful until she spied Martin and Louisa on the beach. She sipped her wine and shook her head in disgust as she thought about the two of them and their indiscretions, "Martin, Martin, Martin, you were raised to know better than that." It was obviously his wife's working class proclivities that influenced him to behave so brazenly. There was little she could do now to correct his behavior. "Ah well," she sighed, "Time to forget about them and enjoy what is left of my visit." She lifted the glass of the rich full-bodied red wine she had ordered, swirled it around to release the bouquet, took another sip, and then lifted her glass in a toast to a brief but fabulous holiday.

She had stayed by the pool for a few minutes after Martin and his family had left before making her way to her room just in time for the delivery of her lunch. The remainder of the afternoon she spent at the spa, an entire afternoon of pampering with a full massage, a facial, and a mani and pedi. She couldn't imagine having a more relaxing afternoon. She felt invigorated and gazing out at the beach and water, she felt the sea calling to her. Of course, the sea was much too cold for swimming this time of year, but even if it were summer, a woman of her station would never go cavorting in the surf, it just wasn't done; but a dignified stroll just above the water's edge was always acceptable.

She headed up to her room to change into some slacks and a matching top. It was just half four but the sun was getting low in the sky. The day had been pleasantly warm, warmer than usual for winter in southern Portugal, but Margaret knew that the temperature would drop quickly as sunset approached and the breeze off the ocean picked up. It would be chilly before she returned to her room. She grabbed a sweater, along with her hat and sandals, and took the lift down to the beach level. She exited the elevator and practically ran into Louisa and James who were waiting to go up to their room. She nodded her head in polite acknowledgement of Louisa and gave her a small smile.

Louisa responded in kind, 'Hello. I hope you are having a good visit."

"Lovely, thank you. You? as well?" Margaret replied, and without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away. She could feel Louisa's eyes staring after her as she stepped cautiously over the sand covered tiles heading toward the beach. She quickly glanced back to catch Louisa's puzzled look as if she knew there was something about Margaret she should know, but couldn't put her finger on. Louisa turned away sharply, shrugging her shoulders, and guided James into the elevator, likely to clean up for an early dinner with Martin.

Margaret was surprised when she ran into Louisa as she left the lift. The conference was still in session, but Martin could easily have been with them, and that realisation left her with a fright that shook her usual composure. She must be more careful for the remainder of her visit. The encounter at the pool after seeing them at the playground the evening before had been more than sufficient. Margaret had no desire to become friends with this woman, not before she had been able to sort out her feelings about this little family.

She opened the door leading to the terrace where she threaded her way through the tables and chairs now scattered haphazardly around the patio after a busy day of tourists enjoying the amenities of the resort. She slipped her sandals off and stepped onto the soft sand, still warm from the sun. She took a few steps and stopped, inhaling the sweet smell of the ocean, fresh and briny at the same time. Only a few families were still on the beach gathering their things to come in and prepare for afternoon refreshments or an early dinner. There were several walkers as well, singles and couples bent over looking for shells, or striding determinedly to work up an appetite, or simply wandering staring out to the sea watching the few remaining sailboats manoeuvre their way back to the harbour before dusk.

She walked out to the edge of the ocean, staying just to the outer edge of the water without actually getting wet, but close enough to feel the cool sand between her toes. How often did she do this as a girl? It had been years since she had swum and splashed in the sea, a lifetime really. She had played often enough as a child; any daughter of the royal navy had to be at home in the sea and she had spent hours cavorting in the waves with all the other children and running along the edge of the water as they chased one another laughing. But that all stopped once she entered her teens. Her mother was adamant that young ladies must always behave appropriately and appear well groomed at all times. Always stay on the edge, her mother cautioned her, never actually in the water. Getting wet would be unseemly for a young society girl; the right sort of young men wanted their future wives to comport themselves with dignity, not recklessness. Even wading in the water's edge could be seen as common.

She pondered how times had changed, how her mother's advice might no longer be relevant; and even if it were, she wasn't there to admonish her if she were to venture a few steps into the water. Would it hurt to dip her feet into the water? She stood still and when the surf surged up, she didn't budge. It was a tad cold and she shivered a bit as it bubbled over her toes and up to her ankles. "What a delicious sensation!" she thought to herself, and she followed the water as it sped back down to go out and repeat its cycle. Soon a new waved crashed on shore and the water sped towards her, faster than she had expected when suddenly it covered her ankles and half her calves, soaking the hem of her slacks. She backed away for a moment, long enough to roll up the cuffs of her slacks, and then she ventured back toward the rushing water as it washed up onto the sand to tickle her toes again. She was entranced. How was it that she had waited all these year before going back in the water? She stood letting the surf wash over her ankles as she stared out to sea. Was strict adherence to her mother's code of conduct really necessary? Margaret had never questioned it before, but now she wondered.

She wandered on, keeping her feet just near enough to feel the rush of the surf on her toes and ankles each time a new wave hit the beach. She thought about her son and his family, how Martin had both his wife and his child accompany him to this conference. It baffled her. She and Christopher would never have considered taking Martin with them while travelling; it just wasn't done. Children were an inconvenience in such a venue where socializing with the other attendees and their wives was of primary importance if one wished to further one's career. Best to leave them home with the nanny.

She wondered if James had a nanny. She thought back to what Miriam had told her of Louisa's life. She seemed to remember that she had left her job as head teacher at Portwenn Primary and had taken a position in one of the primary schools near their home in London. There must be a nanny if they were both working. Perhaps she would stop working when the new baby came. But even then, she would need help if she were to continue on in her work with the hospital auxiliary. Margaret had a sudden horrifying thought, "Did Louisa participate in the auxiliary, as any well-bred department head's wife should?" Margaret had just assumed, but with her working-class upbringing, she might not have understood the importance of her role as Martin's wife. It was all wrong. Once again, she fretted over Martin's poor choice of a wife. If only she and Christopher had been able to guide him, but once he left for university he ignored their advice and the example they had tried to set, preferring to make his own way. If she had been able to help him find a more socially appropriate wife, she would now be able to show off photos of her grandchildren as proudly as any of her friends. But now …. it was hopeless.

Her drive home was uneventful. She was able to check out of the hotel from her room and leave mid-morning without encountering any of the conference attendees. Most were either attending the last session that morning or had left to do some sightseeing before catching a flight back from whence they came. She had been tempted to visit the water's edge before checking out. Her walk on the beach the evening before had been so delightful, but she decided against it. It wasn't prudent to expose herself so openly among the remaining guests. Martin may not have left and there were others who might recognise her. But the memory of her glorious stroll in the water remained; she must do it again.

Back at home, nothing had changed. The Tuesday morning bridge group continued as usual, with "tea" every afternoon at the club followed by dinner with the other couples with whom they socialized. And the gossip; it never changed; in one way the sameness of it all was comforting, but in another way, it was stifling. Was this all there was to be for the next twenty years before her time came. Yes, there was her monthly book club discussing the latest English language best-sellers, there was occasional travel, and there was always her charity work. It was pleasant and occasionally fun … and it was safe. But was that what she really wanted?