The Acquisition of Memories. Chapter 38- Seaside Entertainments
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Scarborough, Yorkshire. Southern Cove Esplanade
Tuesday 1st June 1926
After their arrival in Scarborough on their afternoon train from London, Charles and Elsie settle into their new rooms at the massive Grand Hotel on the southern cove of the seaside resort town. It is a busy time in the holiday season. Such a strange thing it is to be part of the holidaying class they both think. So different from the world they grew up in and still live in at the Abbey, where every day is filled with the demands of working and the impact of the eight-hour day and the forty-hour working week of the factories has never really touched their lives in service. They have had so little time for any free recreation in their long lives.
In amongst reading through sections of Thomson's Summer poem, they rested and dozed against each other's supporting shoulders in their first-class cabin compartment on the train up from London. However, Charles and Elsie both still feel lethargic from the various emotional and physical demands of being a newly-wed couple. As a bit of a lark, and certainly, with no thoughts that such things will really have much of a restorative impact upon their current state of blissfully sore muscles and other bodily strains, they decide to go and taste the town's famed mineral springs water from the spa rooms on the foreshore.
The water is blood warm and sulphurous and they barely manage to swallow a mouthful each whilst maintaining straight faces. In fact, the sneers on their faces as the disgusting flavour and smell fully hits them is decidedly reminiscent of the squashed features of the Punch and Judy puppets that are putting on a show not far away on the promenade. Finally managing to straighten their faces without bursting into ridiculous laughter and spluttering the foul liquid out at one another in the middle of the elegant spa tearooms, they silently communicate that perhaps a decent cup of tea and some scones with jam and cream would have a far greater impact upon their mutual wellbeing and energy levels.
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Sufficiently restored, they wander closely arm-in-arm for the remainder of the afternoon along the seaside esplanade, chatting lightly and agreeing that they will not fully brave the sands and waters until tomorrow when they will have a whole day to spend picnicking and paddling ad reading together in the sunshine on the quieter northern cove beach.
As the day begins to fade, they wander out onto the western pier, taking care not to hinder the movements of the fishermen who are preparing to ship out for the evening's catch. They look back at the splendour of the Grand Hotel they are staying in and then up to Scarborough Castle in ruins on top of the bluff. It is a lovely town, and quite an impressive site to see in gradually deepening silhouette as the sun sinks behind it all in the west. But Charles and Elsie agree that they cannot imagine ever living right by the seaside the way that Elsie's sister and her husband have for all of these years. However, they do enjoy the novelty of visiting the coast. They watch the boats shipping out and listen as the snatches of shouts of surly boatmen intermingle strangely with the squeals and laughter from children running up and down the sand to avoid the cool waves of the tide as it rolls further and further up the shore at the end of the day. All of it puts them in mind of the bounty the fishermen will bring in and what the two of them may do for their evening meal. Charles, who has not really been to the seaside very often at all across his long lifetime, not really since he played a few seaside towns in his youth touring the Halls, suggests that they try a different type of seaside delicacy.
"How about we try some whelks, Elsie. I've not ever had them before."
"Ugh," she visibly shudders. "Are you sure, Charles? They are noh favourite of mine, even in Lytham, and I would wager there is no more a Mrs Patmore in Scarborough to cook them very well than there is at my sisters on the west coast!"
"Oh, come on, Els, you have me curious now. I want to try them."
"Well, all right," she laughs lightly at his boyish enthusiasm to enjoy all the seaside has to offer them, "but don't say I didn't warn you!"
Having purchased the warm stewy mess, Charles and Elsie decide to venture down onto the sand beside the solid fishing pier to sit with their backs to the sea wall on Charles' spread-out suit jacket.
"Well," Charles says, taking a deep breath and looking at his purchase with quite some trepidation now that he has them all up close. They smell fresh like the sea, and vinegary, but there is something a little disconcerting about the circular brownish tinged lumpy things he is proposing to eat. "Who should go first, Elsie?"
"I don't even want ONE of them, Charles!... But, …I will try it just so that you are not completely alone in this particular trial of life! How about we both go on the count of three?"
Having both managed to capture on their wooden skewers a curled-up lump of ugliness that may once have been a fruit of the sea, they both swallow hard to gird themselves.
"Well." Charles counts them in, "One …two… three."
Bravely they take the little morsels in their mouths and immediately turn to one another with looks of utter disgust and nausea on their faces as the slippery gels release a terribly salty brine onto their tongues and their teeth fail to bite through the flesh of the whelks that have all the consistency of an Indian rubber ball. Before both of them burst into fits of laughter at the look on the other's face, they both gulp and swallow their dubious prize in one go.
"Urrgh!" they cry in unison.
"That was the most disgusting thing that has ever passed over my palate!"
"Well, I did try to warn you, Charles!" Elsie giggles at him heartily.
"Urk! I need something to wash my mouth out with," he grouses with a look of pure distaste on his face.
"How about we go back for some more refreshing spa waters!" Elsie continues cackling at Charles looking so pained and in desperate need to spit the residue of whelk broth onto the sands. She has never seen Mr Carson even motion towards spitting in public. She doubts he ever has ever done more than discreetly spit wines at a tasting shared with his Lordship, or his daily toothpaste anywhere in his entire life!
"That would probably equate to being the worst matching of food with a beverage on the entire planet, Els. Urgh!"
Taking pity on him, she offers him some of the lemonade she was wise enough to buy from a neighbouring stand when Charles was intent on buying the worst that seaside resorts have to offer in summertime snacks.
Once Charles has washed the brine away with the bittersweet of the lemonade. He catches properly the sight of Elsie's broad smile and bright eyes beneath her straw hat- some of her hair wisping out of its styling with the early evening sea breeze and she looks as young and carefree and pretty as that day at Brighton when everything shifted for the better beneath Charles' feet. He bends his head to kiss her firmly- just as he wished he had been brave enough to do that day three years ago- when she stopped his heart in his throat and held him captive with the hope and love he saw shining in her eyes for him.
As they break apart, Elsie is a little breathless and wide–eyed.
"That was rather forward of you, Mr Carson."
Charles still feels a little taken aback himself, whenever he feels and acts upon his overwhelming desire to kiss his new wife, especially when they are in public. He speaks low and close to her face.
"I..I..wish I could have done that … on the beach that day at Brighton, Mrs Hughes…so very much. You looked just like you did that day right then…and I … I just couldn't stop myself... I am sorry if I embarrassed you."
"Well, I was hardly complaining, Charles! In fact, I do not mind if you should like to do it again," she smiles sweetly up at him, "since we seem to be out of sight of any people who might care. But, …" she looks down and strokes his arm seductively, and quite incongruously so, given her next words to him, "…but perhaps you should like to dispose of those watery horrors before I am wearing a particularly strident brand of new perfume."
"It seems that I have married a very wise woman indeed. No more whelks and spa waters for me. I have learnt my lesson."
"Indeed. A man should always heed his wife's advice. What are we going to do with these monstrosities?"
Charles looks like a little cheeky rascal all of a sudden as he places the tub between them on a rock. He leans over and briefly captures Elsie's mouth in a smiling little kiss, with plans in mind for a more thorough return to her lips after he enjoys a bit of twilight sport with his new rubber play toys. With a twinkle in his eyes, Charles wedges another whelk on his thick wooden eating skewer and uses it as a miniature catapult to fling the whelk as far away from himself as he can across the sand.
"Charles!" Elsie exclaims, "you are worse than a little school boy! Can I not take you anywhere? I have never known you to play with your food!"
"Oh, I think one would be hard pressed to classify these little miscreations as food, Love. Besides which, we are getting on and I believe my very wise waife-o-mine once said that we can afford to live a little. Here Elsie, see if you can get yours further than mine and he hands her a fully whelk-loaded skewer. Elsie just giggles. My Cheeky Charles. And she pecks him on the chubby smiling cheek before she bites her bottom lip and concentrates on besting Charles' first attempt, feeling rather silly and hoping no one sees her acting in such and unladylike manner.
"Ah-ha! The Germans would have been no match for you, Mrs Hughes. If only the war office new of such a lethal weapon to defend the shores of fair Scarborough with!" Charles announces outlandishly.
They giggle along together as they reload for the continued bombardment of Scarborough's fair sands with the vilest weapon of war known to man or mouth.
"Count of three again. Ready? One… two… three! Oh! You beat me again! You are quite the sportswoman it would appear, Mrs Carson. That's two: one in your favour now, I believe."
"You are just soh silly, Charles. How is it you get me doing such undignified things?" she asks as they release another miniature volley of aquatic globules into the air, laughing aloud again at their varied successes.
"That's three: one. Oh dear, Carson of Yorkshire has some work on his hands to catch up now!" he commentates jovially as he reloads their skewers. "And you do these things with me because… you are fun, Elsie-love." And he smiles widely at her. "And we probably should both have had a lot more fun when we were children. Ready? One…two…three! Oooh… I believe that round went to me. That's three: two" he gleefully declares as some seagulls start noticing the actions near the sea wall and swoop in to claim some easy supper from the sand. "We should have much more childish fun in our retirement years don't you agree, Els?"
"Well, I would prefer we don't always end up smelling like fish brine at the end of it- but yes… why, indeed, not?
"One… two…. three- Launch!" Charles shouts. "Wah-hey! Look at that! Does that count, Els? Mine got caught in mid-air by a member of the Ripon 76th Home Defense Bomber Squadron. Hmmm… If only these fellows were recruited before the Germans bombed up the poor old castle on the hill. So! Fair Lady Carson, who wins that latest joust?"
"I shall award that round to the good, Sir Carson d'Clicky-Knees," Elsie proclaims without missing a beat.
Charles laughs happily at her new name for him. "Three-a-piece it is then. Let's both try to get them caught this time. Ready? One… two… three! Bombs away!"
"Yes!" They shout triumphantly as both of their whelks are captured by gulls before they hit the turf. Charles is quite expansive in his gestures now, waving his skewer around in celebration. And as he looks towards Elsie's shining face he finds that he desperately needs to kiss her again. So, he tosses the remaining whelks willy-nilly from their tub out onto the sand and grasps Elsie into his arms to kiss her quite thoroughly as the gulls squawk and flutter in a flurry of white all around them.
As they break apart Elsie complains, "Charles, I was enjoying that!"
"Oh! And my kisses aren't more fun than launching whelks into the welkin in fair Scarborough?" He looks at her with an exaggeratedly hurt face, complete with drooping puppy dog eyes.
"I meant the kisses – silly!" she laughs out as she leans in to kiss him again. "And,…well… I do suppose you still taste a little bit like a whelk—a sort of sweet and salty, lemonade-y one, so, all is not lost!" she ribs him and then leans up to kiss him once again. "Hmmm," she sighs dreamily into his smiling lips. "Let's go find a place to wash our hands, Charles… then why don't we go buy some fish and Chips for dinner to eat on the pier… most seaside towns can't go too far wrong with those. And she stands before him and offers her hand to help him up- but then as she sees Charles looking so relaxed and happy and bright eyed on the beach, with his hair fluttering in the breeze all around his smooth clear brow it just stops her short. He looks young and carefree. She leans down towards him, "You are not such a stodgy old bean after all, are you? You really are such fun, my Cheeky Charles." She smiles broadly at him and then kisses him firmly. "Hmm… I love you so."
Charles grins like a bright, happy young fool up into her face."
"And the happiest and luckiest of men I am for it, Elsie-love. Not that I ever really needed reminding!" And he takes her hand to steady his rise and then escorts her back up to the esplanade to hunt down a dinner far worthier of his fair Lady Carson.
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A/N: The 76th Ripon Home Defence Air Squadron did exist on a base not far from the fictional Downton Abbey- and from what I can gather- they could do little in time to stop the German's bombing Scarborough from the air and leaving the castle in further ruins in WW1.