He was glad he had done so when the vehicle began to fill up and the driver stood at the top of the steps with his checklist of passengers in one hand, ticking people off as they boarded. Albert was relieved to see that there was a good sprinkling of men amongst the trippers, and though most people seemed to be accompanied, there were one or two lonely souls like himself. At the last minute a handsome white-haired woman hurried up the steps just as the driver slid into his seat, and when she had given her name and been ticked off the checklist she smiled at Albert. ‘Do you mind if I sit here?’ she said, indicating the empty seat beside him. ‘I’m afraid I’m sometimes travel-sick, so I don’t want to sit at the back – it’s always worse there, don’t you think?’

Reluctantly, Albert agreed that the motion of the coach could be unpleasant if one were occupying a rear seat, and the woman sat down with a word of thanks. ‘Isn’t it marvellous weather for the seaside?’ she said happily. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this for days. I wondered how I would get on, being by myself, and I did mean to arrive at the coach station earlier so that I could choose my seat. But I managed to oversleep and then I had to run most of the way, a thing I haven’t done for years. I expect you were early, since you got the best place in the whole coach!’

‘I was,’ Albert admitted. He had intended to smile briefly at his fellow passenger and then to turn his shoulder on her, putting a stop to any attempt at conversation. But this woman, he was suddenly sure, was not the type to force her unwanted attention on anyone. In fact, chatting now and then would shorten the coach journey, make the fifty miles or so pleasanter than they might have been, so he smiled at his companion and held out a hand. ‘Since we’re fellow passengers, I think we ought to introduce ourselves,’ he said. ‘My name’s Payne . . . and you are . . .?’

‘I’m Mrs Williams,’ the woman said. She chuckled. ‘I’d take a bet that half the people on this coach are either Williams, Evans or Jones. And when we get to Rhyl we’ll find even more Williamses, Evanses and Joneses. Have you ever been to Rhyl before? This is my first visit.’

By now the coach was bumping down towards the tunnel which would take them up on to the Wirral. Albert nodded. ‘Oh yes, I’ve been to Rhyl a great many times, though this is my first visit since the war. When my wife was alive we had a holiday somewhere on the Welsh coast every summer. After she died my daughter and I used to have days out, visiting Chester or Wrexham or one of the little Welsh villages where you could get a meal and a drink, but of course the beaches were all closed during the war so we couldn’t go there. My wife and I were great walkers, but Janine didn’t take after us, I’m afraid. After the war I fancied starting an ice cream parlour and putting Janine in charge, though of course the financial side of it would have been my concern, but she upped and offed to America to marry a GI. She’s got a good job in the family business, earns a far better salary than I did at her age and keeps trying to persuade me to have a holiday over there.’ He chuckled. ‘Wish I could, but money’s pretty tight and I’m still hoping to have my own ice cream parlour one of these days, even if I have to employ someone else to run it.’