‘Jolly good. It looks as though more new staff have arrived,’ Connie said to Molly. ‘Leave your case with theirs and I’ll give you all the grand tour. Not that we can cover the entire camp. There just isn’t time,’ she added as they approached the group and introductions were made. ‘Once you have your uniforms and have settled into your chalets, you have the rest of the day free to explore. Tomorrow, your training starts in earnest. Follow me and try to keep up,’ she called out loudly so the people at the back could hear.
Molly stepped in line beside a pretty blonde girl. ‘Hello. I’m Molly Missons.’
‘Bunty Grainger.’ The girl smiled back, holding her hand out for Molly to shake. ‘Pleased to meet you. This is all rather exciting, isn’t it?’
‘To be honest, I’m finding it a bit daunting. The camp is so large. I’m sure I shall get lost.’
‘If you do get lost, you can head to one of the “lost child” posts and we can collect you.’
The two girls giggled, which attracted raised eyebrows from Connie Sinclair. ‘Keep up, ladies, and no gossiping in the ranks,’ she added with a twinkle in her eye. ‘We are passing the dining room. Over there is our swimming pool. I hope you can all swim. You will be allocated a dining time and house duties when we meet for staff training tomorrow.’
Molly and Bunty gazed through the windows to where rows of tables and chairs were being set out by staff. ‘It’s hard to believe so many people will be sitting down to eat in there on Saturday,’ Molly said in awe.
‘I’ve been told there is to be more than one sitting as well. That’s a lot of food,’ Bunty added. ‘Look out – we’re losing the group.’
The two girls hurried to catch up with their colleagues, marvelling at gardeners planting out flowering plants and rose bushes along the roadside in long stretches of neat beds.
‘I love roses,’ Bunty sighed.
‘You should have been here three weeks ago. All that was growing here then were bloody big air-raid shelters,’ one of the gardeners said as he stood up to stretch his back. ‘The governor’s had us all working flat out digging out the shelters and planting the rose beds. This is just as it was before war broke out.’
Molly could see how proud he was of his work.
‘Who is the governor?’ Bunty asked.
‘That’s Billy Butlin,’ Molly explained. The Butlins staff she’d met so far seemed incredibly proud of their boss. She hoped she’d get to meet him before the season ended.
‘Keep up, ladies,’ Connie called as she disappeared round a corner.
As they caught up with the group, who were now standing by a signpost, the girls could see rows of chalets, again bordered by grassed areas and even more bright flowers.
‘It’s wonderful,’ Bunty sighed. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’
Connie turned to check that the little group was all together before pointing out tennis courts, a gymnasium, a putting green and billiard room. ‘Further over there, you will find the nursery, chapel, children’s area and also our medical centre. We cover every eventuality at Butlins,’ she added proudly.
‘That’s where I’ll be based,’ Bunty said, pointing towards the children’s area.
‘Me too. Are you going to be a Butlins auntie?’ Molly asked.
‘Yes. It’s comforting to know someone else I’ll be working with. Even if we only met a short while ago,’ Bunty said with a nervous smile.
Molly felt the same. Just knowing one friendly face among thousands in this large holiday camp gave her a boost. Bunty seemed a cheerful sort. She may well have fun here after all. Travelling up from London had given her time to think about the life she was leaving behind, if only for a few months. Her last day had been spent sorting a flurry of last-minute queries at the shop, despite George assuring her that he could cope. She had caught up with all business correspondence, leaving her dad’s office bright and clean for George to use. Molly had placed an advertisement in the Erith Observer for a lad to work for them and young Jack had started work three days before Molly left Erith. He was bright and cheerful, and would be able to help out around the shop and also serve customers when George had to pop out on business.
On the afternoon before she headed to Skegness, Molly, accompanied by Kath, paid a visit to Brook Street Cemetery. It was a lovely spring day as the women pulled a few weeds from round the headstone and placed fresh flowers in the vase. Kath left Molly for a while so she could be alone with her thoughts. She felt as though she was deserting them. Goodness knows what they would have made of Harriet and Simon. But, then, the cousins would have had no need to have visited Erith if they weren’t beneficiaries of her dad’s will. It was a real mess and she could see no way out of it apart from going away for a while until the dust settled and she could speak to her family solicitor and ask his advice.
She knelt by the grave for a little while longer, saying a quiet prayer for Charlotte and Norman, until Kath’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to the present. ‘Come on, love – we’ll miss that bus if we don’t look sharp. I’ll be up here twice a week, if not more, so you needn’t worry about the grave being kept tidy. You’re not the only one who misses them, you know.’
Molly got to her feet and gave the old woman a hug. She was blessed to have such good friends in Kath and George.
‘Now, I suggest we stop off at Hedley Mitchell’s and treat ourselves to afternoon tea. I think your mum would have approved of that, don’t you?’
Molly nodded in agreement. Blowing a silent kiss to her parents, she left the cemetery, giving a final look over her shoulder as they headed to the bus stop.
By the time they arrived back at Kath’s house in Cross Street, Freda had packed the largest of the suitcases that George had taken from the loft at Avenue Road. Molly had little else to do but relax with her closest friends and think of her journey to Skegness the next morning.
The chalet where Molly was to live during her time at Butlins was sparse but clean. She’d been thrilled when she’d learned that Bunty could share with her, and the two girls had excitedly collected their suitcases from reception and headed along the long rows of identical chalets until they’d reached their home from home. Opening the door, they’d both exclaimed how snug it was with three beds in such a small area. They’d been told that until more chalets had been restored, after six years of use by the navy, Butlins staff would have to share three to a chalet.
‘I’m sure we’ll manage,’ Molly said. ‘Once we unpack and push our suitcases under our beds, there will be plenty of room. We can wash our smalls out in the handbasin and perhaps hang a line across the veranda for them to dry.’
‘As long as we don’t have water dripping off our drawers while we sit out on the veranda sunbathing,’ Bunty giggled.
Molly joined in. Bunty was such a laugh. They would be able to make their chalet very comfortable, somewhere to relax when they weren’t on duty.
She set to unpacking her clothes, shaking out creases from the pretty summer dresses she would wear when not on duty. Carefully hanging them up on a short wooden pole that all three girls would have to share, she smiled to herself as she thought how she’d deliberated over what to bring with her to Butlins and what to leave behind at George and Kath’s house. Molly had been in such a quandary that it had been a relief to find, upon returning from the cemetery, that Freda had finished the packing, thus making the task much easier. Freda had made the right choices. Molly’s friend knew her so well.
Returning to the suitcase to lift out her soap bag and shoes, Molly’s fingers touched a solid object. With a frown on her face, she pulled out a small, worn leather attaché case, recognizing it as belonging to her mum. Why was it in her suitcase? Flicking back two brass clasps, she raised the lid. Inside, she found faded family photographs taken before the war. Freda must have packed them thinking Molly would like mementos from home. It must have been with the suitcases George found in the loft at Avenue Road. She placed it carefully back into the suitcase,
thinking she’d sift through the photos when she was alone.
They’d just finished putting away their possessions when there was a loud banging on the door and a posh voice called out, ‘Open up, gals. I’ve misplaced my blinking key.’
Molly opened the door, her chin almost hitting the ground as a tall woman wearing jodhpurs, a thick green pullover and a hacking jacket strode into the room carrying a large holdall and swinging a riding hat on her arm.
‘Hey up, the cavalry’s arrived.’ Bunty grinned. ‘Hello. You must be our fellow inmate. I’m Bunty Grainger, and this is Molly Missons.’
The woman threw her holdall to the ground and flopped onto the one unmade bed. ‘Phew. What a to-do! The bloody donkeys would not get out of the lorry, no matter how many carrots we dangled in front of them. I reckon we’ll have trouble there, girlies.’
Molly and Bunty looked at each other and frowned.
Seeing the looks on their faces, the woman let out a belly laugh and jumped to her feet. ‘Plum Appleby, pony and donkey rides for the children, at your service. Best you stand downwind of me when I’ve been mucking out the stables.’
The three girls burst out laughing. Butlins was going to be an absolute hoot living with these two, Molly thought to herself.
For Molly, the next couple of days passed in a haze of meeting colleagues, learning her duties and finding her way around the vast holiday camp. She was enchanted by the Viennese dance hall and an olde worlde pub called the Pig and Whistle Inn. Even though she was busy from dawn to dusk, she felt the strain of the past months fall away and soon she was relaxed and ready to welcome the many hundreds of guests who would arrive by bus, car, train and coach the next day. She and her colleagues would first greet guests in the main reception area, helping parents to register the younger children for the nursery and then directing holidaymakers to their chalets. Every visitor would be given the name of their ‘house’ for the week, which would determine at what times they would eat in the large dining room she’d spotted on the day they’d arrived, and where she’d so far enjoyed delicious shepherd’s pie, jam roly-poly and steak-and-kidney pudding as tasty as any her mum had made, all cooked by onsite chefs and served by the well-trained waiters and waitresses.
Molly, Bunty and Plum had decided to take a walk down to the beach next to the camp, where they could enjoy the mild, quiet evening before the invasion of visitors the following day. Kicking off their shoes, they sat on the sand looking out to sea. The tide was in and lapped quietly on the shore yards from where they sat.
‘My feet are killing me,’ Plum declared, kicking off her sandals. ‘I may well go for a paddle in a minute.’
‘I’m not surprised. You must have walked miles with those ponies and horses. I thought you were supposed to ride them,’ Molly said.
With her hair loose from the tight bun she kept it in while working, and dressed in a pretty cotton printed skirt and white blouse, Plum looked more like a woman and less like a jockey about to take part in the Grand National. She scrubs up well, as George would say, Molly thought to herself.
‘I’ve been getting them used to their surroundings ready for when they have to give rides to the youngsters,’ Plum explained.
‘I feel a bit sorry for them, giving rides all day long with excitable children on their backs,’ Bunty said, who lay on her side, running her fingers through the soft sand as she picked out shells and made a small pile next to her.
‘Don’t be,’ Plum said, getting to her feet and dipping her toes in the incoming tide. ‘I’ve split them into three teams so they don’t have to work every day. Plus the stables are the best available, with stable hands at their beck and call, and the best food this side of Skegness.’
‘I bet their stable mates don’t snore,’ Bunty said pointedly to Plum.
Plum ignored the comment as she looked along the beach to where twinkling lights from the Butlins funfair could be seen in the early evening sky. ‘What fun,’ she said, pointing to the fairground. ‘I haven’t thrown wooden balls at a coconut since I was a young gal.’
Bunty was on her feet at once and striding along the beach. The strains of music from a steam organ could be heard across the sand. ‘The organ’s playing “The Waltz of the Flowers”. Come on, you two. It must be open.’
Molly struggled to catch up with her two new chums as they ran across the sandy beach towards the bright lights. It was May and the days were becoming warmer, but the evening was turning chilly. Molly pulled her arms through the cardigan she’d slung across her shoulders. ‘Wait for me,’ she shouted, but the girls were now far ahead of her and didn’t hear her cries. Kicking off her white sandals in exasperation, she picked them up and managed to run much faster in the loose sand.
Entering the fairground was like stepping into another world. Even without the holidaymakers, who would arrive in their droves tomorrow, it was busy. Molly assumed that the fair also attracted locals. She made a decision to discover towns and villages in the vicinity of the holiday camp when she had time.
Plum was waving to her from where she was standing alongside Bunty in a short queue for the dodgem cars. ‘I’ve always wanted to ride on one of these. Come and join us,’ she shouted above the din of the music and men calling out to the punters to throw a hoop or take a ride on the flying boats.
Molly had never been keen on the way the cars bumped into each other. It was all rather rough. ‘I’m not sure,’ she faltered until she saw the disappointment on Plum’s face. ‘Have you never been on them?’
Plum shrugged her shoulders, trying to hide her disappointment. ‘My mother thought it wasn’t very ladylike,’ she sighed.
‘What? You work with horses. Surely that’s more energetic than a fairground ride?’ Molly asked.
Plum gave one of her loud laughs. ‘Goodness, no! In our set, the folk are out with the hounds most days. That is considered normal,’ she added, noticing Molly’s perplexed expression.
‘It’s not normal where I come from. Are you really posh?’ she asked in awe.
Molly’s question caused Plum to roar with laughter once more. ‘The folk aren’t royalty, but they’ve been around since the year dot. Though there is a bit of the landed gentry about them.’
‘Gosh, that must be wonderful,’ Molly said, imagining hunt balls and manor houses.
For a moment, Plum’s smile disappeared. She looked sad. ‘It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It can be a lot to live up to.’ She nudged Bunty, who was in a daydream. ‘Wake up, there. We are next in the queue. Who’s coming on with me?’
‘I’d rather just watch, if you don’t mind,’ Bunty said wistfully.
‘Oh, I’ll come with you, then,’ Molly said, climbing into a dodgem car that had just been vacated. ‘But you can be the driver.’
The car headed off, the girls shrieking loudly as they were bumped from behind by two young lads. Molly grabbed the sides of the little vehicle. She was convinced she would be thrown out. It was fun but just a touch scary. Plum chased the lads, trying to bump them back. Looking over at Bunty, Molly could see the girl watching across the dodgems to where a man was guiding a long length of sheet music into the organ. He raised his hand in recognition and Bunty waved back excitedly and headed off into the crowd towards him until Molly lost sight of her.
How strange, Molly thought to herself. Bunty hadn’t mentioned that she knew anyone who worked on the fairground, though she supposed it was none of her business. She knew so little about Bunty and Plum, and this evening had shown there was much to learn about her new friends. She wasn’t convinced either was completely happy. What a trio they made!
8
‘Oh my goodness. Whatever is that noise?’ Plum groaned as she buried her head beneath her pillow.
‘You’d better get used to it. We’ll be living with that sound from now on.’ Molly laughed as she straightened her bedcovers, then picked up her towel and soap bag before pulling on a coat over her nightdress. ‘It’s Radio Butlins, and there will be bro
adcasts from dawn to dusk, waking the inmates and telling them when to eat and what events are happening. I think it’s fun.’
‘Fun? What’s fun about some woman with a plum in her voice waking me from my slumbers?’
Bunty and Molly burst out laughing as Plum disappeared under her bedcovers.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘We are laughing because your name is Plum and you have a posh voice,’ Bunty said, trying to keep a straight face in case Plum was offended.
Plum peeped out and grinned at them. ‘No one is that posh! Now, call me in half an hour. I only need a quick wash in the basin. I’ll be stinking of donkeys before the hour’s out.’
‘You’re always with those animals. That’s why you missed the staff meeting when they told us about Radio Butlins.’
‘So who’s the daft one?’ a muffled voice said from beneath the bedcovers.
‘I’m off to have a bath,’ Molly said. ‘Don’t forget we have our final staff meeting before the first holidaymakers arrive. Not that I expect to see you there,’ she muttered to the now snoring Plum. Molly headed for the bathroom block, leaving Bunty and Plum snuggled in their beds.
Although still early, the sun was already peeping out from behind the clouds. It bode well for the reopening of Butlins. Molly felt a stirring of excitement at the thought of so many people arriving to enjoy a week of fun after enduring the deprivation of six years of war. She waved to the ground staff, who were out watering flowerbeds. They’d worked wonders in the weeks since the navy had returned the camp to Billy Butlin. Little remained to show that this had been an important part of the armed services’ fight to win the war.
She enjoyed a leisurely soak in the hot water, knowing that come tomorrow, there would be queues for the facilities that Butlins provided for its guests. Wrapping a towel round her head turban style, Molly pulled on her clothes and headed back to the chalet. Turning the corner into the long aisle of identical chalets that led to her own home from home, she was deep in thought about the day ahead. It would be the first time she’d worn her uniform of pleated skirt, white blouse and red blazer. Flat shoes were the order of the day, as she’d be on her feet for ages welcoming the holidaymakers and showing them to their chalets. The Butlins aunties were on duty in reception, encouraging parents to allow their youngsters to join in games and fun so the older members of the party would be able to enjoy some time to themselves. In the meetings and training sessions, Molly had suggested games that she’d devised for the Brownies and Guides in the past that would be of interest to the children on holiday. A nature trail had been planned for the first full day for junior holidaymakers to enjoy. Hopefully, the day would be as bright and sunny as it was today.
The Butlins Girls Page 9
