Blackpool is the first of three trips Toby Knight engineers in Chapter Twenty-Two: Exits and Entrances, three days after a car-park conversation in which Declan Marsden had suggested, carefully, that a change of scenery can help. Toby reads it for what it is — an exit strategy dressed as concern — and turns it into a plan of his own: the well-dressing, the fête and the carnival are the three weekends the village will “pull itself open like a stage set”, and rather than let that happen with Robert at home, he proposes three trips to match: Blackpool first, Alton Towers after, and Twycross in July, if they can manage it. Ben agrees reluctantly — “We're not doing the rides” — and checks the train times without being asked.
They travel up by train via Manchester, Toby buying Robert a copy of Match magazine for the journey. Arriving on “a breath of salt and burning oil,” Robert spots the Tower first; Ben asks who built it, and Toby supplies the answer — Victorians, modelled on the Eiffel Tower — that this page's own History section repeats as simple fact. Their B&B looks out over the funfair; from the twin room's window, Robert can see the Big One's steel frame “stitched with red bulbs” before they have even unpacked.
The afternoon is spent in the arcades along the front — Tekken 2, Daytona USA, and Street Fighter II cabinets “that had been earning their keep since before Robert started school,” a row of Time Crisis machines standing dark and idle, too early in the day for the serious players. Toby wins a small avalanche of tokens on the pushers; Ben warns Robert off the claw machine as rigged, and is proven right — Robert loses every coin he has to it, the prize always falling just short, as though the machine had been taught exactly where to stop. At the machine beside his, a girl — black hair in soft waves, a four-leaf-clover charm at her throat — plucks prize after prize with what the text calls eerie precision, and, watching him fail, simply bends and presses one of her own winnings into his hand without being asked: “Better luck next time.”
For tea they eat chips under a bus shelter in the rain, a hen party tottering past on the far pavement; at the fairground, Robert declines the ghost train and every ride that follows, circling their edges instead and watching the crowd rather than the machines. On the carousel he rides alone while Toby climbs the horse beside him and Ben stands at the post behind them, not riding, simply anchoring the moment the way he anchors most moments.
That night, watching the Big One from the B&B window, Robert sees every one of its lights go out at once for a full second, then return exactly as before. He waits for it to happen again. It doesn't. He tells himself it was a power dip. The text does not resolve the moment either way — it sits in the same register as the small unexplained things the saga scatters throughout its quieter chapters, felt rather than confirmed. The day ends as most of theirs do: Toby reading aloud from Robert's book — a story, this time, of a knight, a dragon and a kingdom built on sand — a ritual Robert notices happens every single night, without once asking why.