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Through the Tunnel
Doris Lessing

Going the shore the first morning the holiday, the young English boy
stopped a turning the path and looked down a wild and rocky bay, and then over
the crowded beach he knew so well other years. His mother walked on front
him, carrying a bright-striped bag one hand. Her other arm, swinging loose, was very
white the sun. The boy watched that white, naked arm, and turned his eyes, which had a
frown them, the bay and back again his mother. When she felt he was not
her, she swung around. `Oh, there you are, Jerry!' she said. She looked impatient, then
smiled. `Why, darling, would you rather not come me? Would you rather-' She
frowned, conscientiously worrying what amusements he might secretly be longing
which she had been too busy or too careless to imagine. He was very familiar that
anxious, apologetic smile. Contrition sent him running her. And yet, as he ran, he
looked back his shoulder the wild bay; and all morning, as he played the safe
beach, he was thinking it.