He pointed to an older woman sitting in the next row, who said to give the fainting holidaymaker a sip of water and ask a female member of staff to escort her to the medical block.
Moving along the front row, he stopped at a young woman and looked at her name badge. ‘Deirdre, you are off duty in the ballroom and a gentleman approaches you. He is slightly the worse for drink. How do you react?’
Deirdre thought for a moment. ‘Well, Johnny . . . I mean Mr Johnson,’ she faltered. ‘I would call a male colleague and request his assistance. I would try not to create a scene. After all, the gentleman concerned is on holiday and is entitled to . . . relax. I would ask my colleague to assist the man outside for some fresh air. Perhaps take him to a coffee bar until he feels better.’ She blushed as Johnny praised her considerate actions.
Molly did wonder how Deirdre would act if she came face to face with her inebriated second cousin Simon. At once the image of his groping hands and insistent ways came into her mind. She shuddered just as Johnny came to a standstill in front of her. He held out his hand and she took it.
‘Then we have the wallflower who is lost in a world of her own. Gentlemen, there will always be a lady who is not dancing. It may be that her partner is not a dancer. She may be holidaying alone.’ He looked at the name badge on Molly’s lapel. ‘Molly, would you care to dance?’
Molly rose to her feet and gazed into Johnny’s eyes as he took her into his arms and held her close. She had often dreamed of this moment and now it was happening.
She felt the blood pounding in her head and at once became light-headed. Johnny took a few steps of what could have been a waltz, but it was all Molly could do to hang on tightly in case she fainted. A look of pain shot across his face as she stumbled and trod heavily on his foot. Johnny groaned and let go of her hand, indicating to Molly to return to her seat. The magical moment had passed.
As he limped back to the stage in an exaggerated manner, Johnny turned to his audience. ‘Of course, it does help if the lady knows her left foot from her right.’
The room erupted into laughter and Molly, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her, slid further into her seat, unhappy that he had made a joke of her mishap.
‘That was rather ungallant of him,’ Freda said. ‘He’s not quite the gentleman he portrays in the movies, is he?’
Molly couldn’t speak. She was disappointed in what should have been a dream come true. Looking up to where Johnny now sat on the stage, she noticed he was watching her. A soft smile flickered across his face. Was he enjoying her humiliation?
‘Gosh, I never thought we’d get away. I’d have faded away to nothing if we’d not had time for a meal before heading to the theatre,’ Freda said as she looked at the menu. They had chosen to eat at Lyons Corner House as it was Freda and Molly’s favourite place to dine on their rare trips to London. ‘What shall we have?’
Molly glanced at the menu. ‘I don’t feel that hungry.’
‘You must eat something. Don’t let that wretched man spoil your day. It wasn’t your fault he caught you off guard when he asked you to dance. Anyone would have felt dizzy having to stand up in front of a crowd of strangers like that. I think I’ll have Welsh rarebit.’
‘It wasn’t that so much as what happened afterwards,’ Molly said, trying hard to suppress the feelings that surfaced every time Johnny Johnson came up in conversation. She could still feel his strong arms as he held her close and the beating of his heart – and the fluttering of her own. Would she ever be able to separate the romantic movie star Johnny Johnson from the mocking entertainment adviser?
‘It wasn’t your fault that someone knocked your arm. Anyone would have spilt tea under those circumstances. Hmm, yes, the rarebit does look nice.’
‘But it was me who spilt the tea, and the look he gave me . . .’ Molly would never forget that moment. It would be frozen in time. All around them, staff arrived to mop up the mess and put things straight while Molly apologized profusely, but it was his puzzled, then cynical expression as he watched Molly’s face before walking away from her that troubled her.
‘Don’t worry – I’m sure it’s all been forgotten by now. Besides, you were offered a job and that’s all that matters. Now, you’d better decided what to order as our waitress is on her way over. Why don’t we both have the Welsh rarebit? We have two hours before the musical starts, and a Butlins children’s auntie shouldn’t be late for the show!’
Molly grinned and pushed her encounter with the man who so often frequented her dreams to the back of her mind. Her future was beginning to look rosy once more.
6
‘Freda, I can’t thank you enough for my lovely birthday surprise. This is a day I’ll remember for a long time,’ Molly said, linking her arm through her mate’s as they left the Victoria Palace Theatre and stepped onto the busy London street.
‘I’m sorry the seats were up in the gods, but it was good, wasn’t it? We have three-quarters of an hour before our train departs. Shall we go to the stage door and watch the stars leave? We may even manage to collect a few autographs.’ Both girls had purchased souvenir programmes of Me and My Girl, the most popular musical in London.
‘That would be wonderful,’ Molly said, and they headed to the side door of the theatre, both humming the title song from the show and giggling when they sang the wrong words.
It seemed that they were not the only ones in a happy mood, because as they joined the already large crowd waiting for the stars of the show to appear, many others were enjoying themselves and singing enthusiastically. A loud cheer erupted as the door opened and a group of young actors appeared. Although not yet well known, their autographs were eagerly sought by many people present. The performers stopped and signed autograph books and programmes before disappearing down the street with a parting wave to the theatregoers.
Molly shivered. It was now very cold, and there’d been a shower of rain while they’d been at the theatre, judging by the puddles in the uneven road. She tried to avoid them so as not to spoil her best shoes. Nearby, a man started to sing another tune from the show. Before long she found herself being pulled along arm in arm with others walking up and down the side road by the theatre singing ‘The Lambeth Walk’. After shouting a loud ‘oi!’ at the end of the song, she headed back to the stage door, where she could see Freda patiently waiting. The door started to open again and there was a rush to get to the front to see the major stars of the show. People were chanting for Lupino Lane and his co-star Valerie Tandy. As the stars appeared and waved to the crowd, those at the back again started to sing and a row of people were soon strolling arm in arm and doing ‘The Lambeth Walk’ once more. Not wanting to appear to be a spoilsport, Molly again joined in with the rousing song. She would much rather have been closer to the stars of the show and hoped that Freda had managed to obtain at least one autograph before the stars climbed into their limousine. The car edged down the road and disappeared into the distance, and the crowd started to disperse. Molly headed back to the stage door to join Freda as the door again opened and a couple left, an elegant blonde woman, swathed in a mink stole over an ivory silk gown, accompanied by a man wearing a top hat and tails. The woman held on to his arm possessively. No doubt heading off to a late post-theatre dinner, Molly thought, a little enviously. How the other half live!
‘All right for some, love, isn’t it?’ the man holding on to Molly’s arm said. ‘Me and the missus have gotta go catch the bus. No taxicab home for us.’
They both jumped onto the pavement as a shiny black taxi screeched to a halt close by. Molly leaped to one side as a wave of muddy water from a large puddle whooshed up towards her. She escaped the worst of it but shrieked as cold water seeped through one shoe to her stockinged foot. The water squelched between her toes. What a state to travel home in. Her shoe was sure to be ruined.
Molly was not the only one to shriek loudly. Looking up, she could see the beautiful young starlet shaking water from her mud-splattered iv
ory silk dress. Water dripped from her face. The woman glared at Molly. ‘You stupid, stupid girl. Look what you’ve done to my gown. Johnny, do something!’
‘I’m sorry but this is not my fault.’ Molly started to explain.
The man in evening dress stepped forward and took the woman by the arm.
Molly couldn’t believe her eyes. It was Johnny Johnson with his lady friend. They made a handsome couple, or had until a couple of moments ago.
Leading his agitated companion to the cab, he helped her inside before turning to face Molly. ‘Well, well, if it isn’t Molly Missons. You seem to have a way of getting into scrapes.’ He gave a slight nod of his head and followed the woman into the vehicle.
Molly watched open-mouthed in astonishment as the taxi left, once more splashing her with rainwater, this time filling her other shoe.
Within days a letter confirming Molly’s position as a Butlins children’s auntie arrived at George and Kath’s house. She would be part of a team that entertained children during the day with games and competitions, leaving their parents free to enjoy the adult events. The emphasis was on fun and making sure that every member of the family had an enjoyable time while at Butlins. Molly couldn’t help but wonder if her experiences with the Brownies and Girl Guides would really equip her with the skills required to provide all-day entertainment for children. She was relieved, at least, that the toddlers and babies would be cared for elsewhere, in a special block where all eventualities would be covered. There, qualified nursery nurses would look after the little ones, even preparing bottles and food for the younger children. In the evenings, part of Molly’s job would be to help out with chalet patrol and she would be provided with a bicycle in order to cover row upon row of chalets listening for crying children. Aware she had not cycled since her Land Army days, and then not that successfully, she had borrowed George’s bike to brush up on her skills. It would be one less thing to worry about once in Skegness.
Molly’s job started four days before the holiday camp welcomed the first of its visitors. With just under three weeks to go, she began to panic about what to take with her. She would be supplied with her Butlins uniform, along with shorts and blouses, but for off duty and evenings, she’d be able to wear her own clothes. Her other problem was that she didn’t have a suitcase large enough to carry her worldly possessions via train to Skegness. She knew her parents had suitcases in the loft at Avenue Road but didn’t think it would be possible to get into the house, find a stepladder and rummage around without Harriet or Simon becoming aware. Plus, what to tell her cousins? She couldn’t vanish for the summer without them becoming suspicious. Although Erith was a bustling town, for her not to return to Avenue Road at some point, or to bump into her cousins, would appear extremely strange. Molly voiced her concerns one evening as she helped Kath prepare the evening meal in the cosy kitchen.
Kath stopped mashing the potatoes to think. ‘You have a point there, Molly. From what I’ve been told, that Harriet doesn’t miss a trick. You are going to have to visit her and make some excuse as to why you’ll not be around for the summer.’
‘I really don’t want to lie to her. As much as I dislike her and Simon for how they’ve disrupted my life, I’m not one for telling fibs.’
Kath looked at Molly’s sad face. ‘It’s not such a big problem. Let’s get this food on the table. George will be home soon and I reckon he’ll come up with an answer. In the meantime, watch those bangers and onions in the pan or they’ll burn.’
Molly quickly shook the large frying pan. ‘They’re fine. There is something else, Kath . . .’
‘Spit it out, girl.’
‘It’s Mum and Dad’s grave. Would you keep an eye on it while I’m away? Do a bit of weeding every so often so it doesn’t get overgrown? I reckon Freda will help out as well.’
‘Bless my soul, I thought I’d already told you,’ she said, piling the fluffy mashed potato into a dish and placing it in the oven to keep warm. ‘I plan to go up the cemetery twice a week. I’m even planting a few extra bulbs in the garden so there’s always something nice to leave in the vase up there.’
Molly left the pan she was watching and gave the older woman a hug. ‘That’s a big weight off my mind. Thank you, Kath.’
Kath reached into the pocket of her apron for her handkerchief and wiped her nose. ‘I was very fond of your mum. She’d not say a harsh word about even the devil himself. There’s much of her in you, you know. I miss her a lot. Popping up to Brook Street Cemetery with a few flowers isn’t any trouble, and each time I’m there I’ll tell your mum, and your dad, what you’re up to. They’d be so proud of their girl and how she’s coping.’
‘I’m not sure they’d be impressed with me going to work at Butlins. Dad would laugh if he knew I was to be an “auntie” entertaining the children. He was always reminding me how I once lost two Brownies on a ramble along the riverbank.’
‘Don’t you be so sure. They were that proud when you went off to join the Land Army and there was you not knowing one end of a garden spade from the other.’
Molly snorted with laughter. ‘I did find it hard to begin with, but I wasn’t alone. We had no choice other than to stick it out until we won the war.’
‘What’s all this, then? I could hear the laughter as I came in the gate,’ George said, entering through the back door. ‘She hasn’t burned my dinner again, has she?’ he asked, nudging Kath as he hung his coat on a hook behind the door.
‘Honestly, George, Molly only let the cabbage boil dry that once. You’ll never let her forget that, will you?’ Kath said, nodding to Molly to check the sausages again before George noticed they were turning a little black. ‘We was saying as how Molly thinks she should go and tell those cousins of hers that she is going away.’
George pulled the evening paper from the pocket of his jacket and sat at the kitchen table. ‘I don’t see why she should,’ he said, before turning to the sports page.
‘George Jones, you’re a fool. What if they come calling here looking for Molly? What will we say when they know she isn’t living here and not likely to be back by late September?’
George sighed. He could see he wasn’t going to get a moment of peace until his wife had answers to her questions. ‘Tell me this, and I don’t want to upset you, Molly, love. How long is it you’ve been living under this roof?’
Molly started to think as Kath tried to add the weeks up on her fingers.
‘I’ll tell you. It’s been a good few weeks. They’ve not been near nor by, have they? Furthermore, I’ve seen them both walk by the shop on numerous occasions and not even look our way. That Simon has been sitting at the bar engrossed with that brassy barmaid in the Prince of Wales most days, so his attention is elsewhere for a while. What makes you think they even care where Molly is or what she’s doing?’
‘My God, you’re right, old man. A bit of me thinks that Molly should be insulted, but then it just shows what money-grabbing people they are,’ Kath said with a shocked look on her face. ‘I hope this hasn’t upset you, love?’
Molly grinned. ‘Not one bit. It’s a relief really. This whole time I’ve been thinking they’d be wanting to know what I’m up to when most likely they don’t care about me at all. At least I can head off to Lincolnshire and not worry about the pair of them.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong. It’s half-day tomorrow, so we’re going to visit that solicitor and see if there is any news. Then we will take a walk up the avenue to the house and collect a few bits for you as if nothing has changed.’
‘What?’ Kath and Molly said in unison.
George tapped his head with a knowing smile. ‘Stands to reason that if the pair of them aren’t worried about what you’ve been doing all this time, it won’t bother them when you walk in the door. However, if they act shifty, then we know they’re up to something.’ He picked up his newspaper and started to read the football results as if nothing had been said.
‘My, but you’re a cunning bu
gger,’ Kath said. ‘I think I’ll come with you to see the looks on their faces.’
‘No, you don’t. The pair of them have been told you’re poorly. We can at least keep that side of the story running, just to be on the safe side. Now, are we going to eat those bangers before they burn any more?’
‘I’ll just make a drop of gravy to cover them,’ Kath said, winking at Molly.
It was a beautiful spring day as Molly and George crossed Queens Road, headed over the small railway bridge and up the tree-lined avenue towards Molly’s home. Molly was due to start her job at Butlins in two days’ time and all she had on her mind was her packing and the reception she would receive from Harriet and Simon. They’d not had much luck at her dad’s solicitor’s office. Mr Denton was still absent from his office. His nephew was no more help than he had been when Molly had visited previously. She doubted there would be a further will. After all, how many wills would a man make in his short life? There was the one at Mr Denton’s office, made before her birth, when her parents had not long arrived in Erith after their marriage, and Harriet claimed she had another showing the house was hers. There was unlikely to be a third. However, she felt she owed it to George to wait until Mr Denton returned from wherever he had departed to. George had been very patient while Mr Denton’s nephew turned out box after box looking for anything relating to Norman and Charlotte Missons’s business.
It was apparent that Timothy Denton had not kept a tight ship while in charge of the business. The office was dustier than before, with the remains of several days’ packed lunches strewn over the desk and cups collecting mould. If it hadn’t been for Molly wanting to get to the bottom of her parents’ wishes, she would have left the office and never returned.
As they sat watching, it became obvious to both Molly and George that the solicitor’s nephew was not going to find the paperwork they so desperately wished to see. George made a polite cough and nodded to Molly. She pulled an envelope from her handbag. ‘I have to go away for a few months. In my absence, I wish Mr George Jones to act on my behalf. I also require all correspondence to be sent to his address in Cross Street, Erith. Here are my instructions.’ She handed over the envelope and bid good day to the young man.
The Butlins Girls Page 7
