The tram came to its final stop just before the beach. Jason alighted and crossed the esplanade which ran along the foreshore. Mrs Cumberledge had been right. It wasn't much of a beach. But it would do. There was sea, gold sands, sunshine, and nearby, all the essential paraphernalia of beaches: Cokes, ice-creams, ice lollies, pies. The air was redolent of suntan lotion and coconut oil. Tying Eleanor Cumberledge's towel round his waist, he changed into his new Speedos underneath it. They were a little snug, but after all, he was gay.
The sea wasn't clear, but on the other hand it didn't appear filthy. There were no breakers, he supposed because of the headlands at the mouth of the bay. He dived in to the water, which was deliciously cold, and swam out for a couple of hundred metres. After, he lay on the towel until he became too hot. He decided it was time to apply the suntan lotion. He did as much of his back as he could reach, but there was an area he missed, and he was wondering whether he'd burn just in that spot and how bad it would be when he heard a voice saying, “Do you need any help with that, mate?”
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