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Finally, there was no choice and Ginny was the very last person on the beach to collect her towel and wicker bag, her novel shoved hastily to the bottom, and run towards the nearest approximation to shelter.Only, she wasn't the last one after all.Just when she'd ducked under the low-roofed shelter, pulled her knees up to her chin, bag to one side, another pair of bare feet splattered through the damp sand and she was joined by not just anyone but, of all the people it could be, by her, in her elegant one-piece swimsuit and huge green towel."You don't mind if I join you, do you?" she asked.Ginny shook her head, but inwardly fumed. Why did it have to be this woman? Why anyone at all?When Ginny arrived at the resort, she had none of the energy to socialise she thought she might have. Nor was she engulfed by the eligible bachelors who populated her fantasies. She had no enthusiasm at all for the sixties or seventies discos. Nor was she inclined to go on excursions to ancient Roman. I went back inside and sent everyone home, except Darlene and Maurice.My wife brought Darlene out, who was doing better than before. I asked Maurice to be ready to play, ‘It Won’t Happen Again.’I went to Darlene and said, “He’s gone – I put him in a cab and sent him home. When he gets that way, does he hit, or just yell like today?”“Oh, Richard – heavens no, he doesn’t hit me or my Mom, he just gets stupid drunk every now and again. He often just falls asleep in his chair and Mom doesn’t even bother trying to get him to their bedroom.”“All right, well – while you are as emotional as you are at the moment, I thought we’d try ‘It Won’t Happen Again.’ Are you up to it, young lady?”Sniffling she said, “Richard, the ‘Show Must Go On!’”“That’s my girl, do you know this yet?” I asked.“Yes, I do – I practice every night on the way home and whenever I’m driving in my car.”“All right – Maurice, hit it!”The prelude he added to this song, was amazing and Darlene stood up, ready...NORMA“This day.
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