‘Ah, Molly, come and join us.’ A redcoat from the entertainment team she’d been introduced to as Terry beckoned her over. ‘I want you to work the back part of the hall with Dave. He will show you what to do. We have four games, plus the special.’ He saw a few questioning looks. ‘The special is a straight full house with the prize of a week’s family holiday at the end of the season. There will be a break before the final game, so encourage the campers to buy extra cards and join in. The rest of the games will be either a line or the four corners, followed by a full house.’ Molly nodded her head; she understood Terry’s instructions. Fingers crossed she’d get through the evening in one piece.
‘A family holiday is a very generous prize,’ Molly said as she followed Dave towards the back of the large ballroom. They’d stopped at the bar to buy a drink on their way. Terry said they’d need a drink to see them through the evening. This puzzled Molly, as she knew Billy Butlin did not like his staff to be intoxicated while on duty. She chose a glass of orange juice, while Terry had a pint glass of bitter shandy.
‘It keeps the camps full during the final weeks of the season when the weather changes,’ Dave explained. ‘The punters love it and often book to come the following year. It worked before the war and we expect it to work again.’ Dave was one of the older redcoats and had worked at the camp before war broke out.
They reached the back of the hall and placed their drinks on the edge of a nearby table, which was occupied by the two Mrs Sangsters.
‘Hello,’ Molly said. ‘Are you enjoying yourselves?’
The older lady patted a vacant seat next to her. ‘Sit yourself down, love. You’re going to be run ragged before too long. Might as well have a little sit-down.’
Dave nodded for her to take the offered seat as he leaned against a nearby wall and drank deeply from his glass.
‘How are the children, Mrs Sangster?’
‘Please, you must call me Gladys.’
‘And I’m Olive,’ her mother-in-law added. ‘It always confuses people, what with there being two Mrs Sangsters.’
‘We lost my husband, Joe, last year—’ Gladys started to explain.
‘It was his chest,’ Olive interrupted, rubbing her own ample bosom. ‘He’d not been right since Dunkirk. Too long in the sea,’ she added wisely.
‘I’m sorry,’ Molly said. ‘I lost my own parents last year. It must be hard for the children.’
‘I’m sorry for your loss, love,’ Olive said, patting her knee. Molly felt a lump form in her throat. Would she ever be able to accept condolences without wanting to cry?
‘Edith is too young to remember much, but young Freddie’s been a bit of a handful since,’ Gladys said ruefully. ‘That’s why we thought a holiday would be nice. Joe had an insurance policy he took out when we first married. A penny policy, they called it. Blow me down if it wasn’t a fair windfall when the man from the Prudential came round the day after the funeral.’
‘So we decided there and then to have a nice holiday when the weather was brighter,’ Olive said. ‘I stuck the money in my post-office account. We used a bit to have a nice Christmas. After all, money’s no good to you when you’re dead. That’s what my old man always said.’
‘And that’s why the old man left you penniless,’ Gladys was quick to point out.
Olive ignored her daughter-in-law. ‘We’d heard about Butlins from Joe and thought the kiddies would like it. So here we are.’
‘I hope you and the children have a wonderful time,’ Molly said, wondering what it would be like to be left without a husband when you had two young children to bring up.
‘We get by. Family stick together through thick and thin,’ Olive said proudly. ‘As long as the kids are happy, then we’re happy too. I reckon they’re gonna have a great time here. Young Freddie could hardly settle in his bed he was that excited about going along to your nature trail tomorrow. Gawd help you if you don’t find him a crab to look at. I hope he doesn’t wake our Edith. We don’t want them calling out our chalet number to say a youngster’s crying before we get to finish playing bingo.’
Molly held up both hands with her fingers crossed. ‘Let’s hope so.’ She grinned.
Dave tapped Molly on the shoulder. ‘Time to start, love.’
Molly rose to her feet. Butterflies danced in her stomach. ‘I’d better get ready for the bingo. It’s my first time.’
Gladys laughed out loud. ‘You’re a bingo virgin? As long as you don’t get your “Kelly’s eye” mixed up with your “legs eleven”, you’ll be all right.’
Molly’s butterflies grew into vultures. Whatever was Gladys talking about?
Dave whispered to Molly as lively music from the stage alerted everyone to the start of the first game. ‘Keep your eye on our tables to make sure no one’s having a problem marking off their numbers. If someone shouts, check that Terry can hear you from the stage, then make sure it’s the right card and read off the numbers so he can check them. We collect the envelope with the money prize, or a bottle if it’s a bottle game, and hand it to the winner. Got it?’
Molly nodded nervously. ‘I think so. What tables are we watching?’
‘From here down to the pillars near the end of the bar.’ He pointed to an area with around fifty tables.
‘Crikey, that’s a lot of campers.’ She grinned at Dave. ‘I’ll do my best.’
‘That’s my girl. You’ll be fine.’
Terry introduced the first game. Campers had to cover a line on their card to win a voucher for one of the many shops on the campsite. A female redcoat started to turn the handle on a circular wire basket and small coloured balls within began to rattle as they rolled inside. The noise travelled around the room as the microphone in Terry’s hand picked up the sound. ‘Eyes down and looking. The first game this evening is on the green card. Good luck, everyone. The first ball is . . . “two little ducks” . . .’
Molly was confused. Why was everyone making quacking noises?
‘. . . twenty-two,’ Terry announced, placing the ball on a table in front of him before taking a second ball from the basket. ‘“Was she worth it?” Seven and six, seventy-six.’
Molly giggled as the men in the room shouted a loud ‘No!’ to Terry’s question. She knew he was referring to the price of a marriage licence, seven shillings and sixpence. It was then the penny dropped. The numbers in the bingo game had funny sayings attached to them. Once she knew the numbers, she could join in with the shouts. What fun!
Terry continued to call out numbers. Molly could hear people in her area grumbling as they waited on one number for a full line. A shout of ‘Here you are!’ was heard from midway down the ballroom. A redcoat waved his arms and called out, ‘We have a winner!’ Some people cheered, while others groaned. The redcoat then called out the colour of the card, followed by the five numbers in a line. This time, just the numbers were called. No one used the funny names – this was too serious for funny games.
Once the numbers were checked and the prize handed over, Terry announced, ‘Eyes down for a full house,’ and the next round began.
Molly listened intently for each number: legs eleven; Kelly’s eye, number one; two fat ladies, eighty-eight; top of the shop, blind ninety.
You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife as Terry pulled number after number from the basket. Molly was aware of several people near to where she was standing muttering that they only needed one more number. All at once, a lady close to the front screamed, ‘Bingo!’ at the same time as a man in her own section shouted, ‘House!’
She glanced at Dave and he nodded for her to attend to the man. Molly took a deep breath and waved her arms to attract Terry’s attention.
‘We have two claims for the full house. That’ll be thirty bob for each winner. Redcoat Molly, you go first.’ Molly felt all eyes on her as she cleared her throat and called out the colour of the card followed by the winning numbers. Dave collected an envelope with the prize money and handed it to Molly.
/> The man who had won his game gave Molly a big kiss as she presented his prize. ‘Thank you, my love. I’ll stand you a drink later,’ he beamed as his wife snatched away the envelope and tucked it inside her handbag.
The evening passed quickly, and before she knew it, it was time for a short break before the final game. Molly went to the bar to buy a round for Dave and herself. Many of the campers offered to buy her a drink, but Molly wasn’t sure if she should accept. It was something she would have to check with Connie at the next staff meeting.
‘Are you enjoying the bingo?’
Molly froze; she would know that voice anywhere. To her left, she spotted Johnny Johnson sitting at the bar as a camper moved away carrying a heavily laden tray of drinks. Please don’t knock the tray, she thought to herself, as the man brushed her arm in passing. Johnny was wearing a well-cut tuxedo and sparkling white shirt. At his elbow was Gloria, a woman Molly recognized who worked in an office behind the reception desk. From the deep blue satin gown she was wearing, it was apparent the pair were not here to play bingo.
‘It’s been interesting, thank you,’ she replied politely as she paid for her drinks. ‘Do you play?’
Gloria smiled as she tucked her arm through Johnny’s. ‘Does it look as though we do?’ she replied. Her smile did not quite reach her icy-blue eyes.
‘I do play, but I prefer to be doing what you’re doing,’ Johnny said, which made his companion scowl.
Molly felt uncomfortable. ‘I have to get back. It’s the big game next,’ she said as she concentrated hard on not spilling the contents of the two glasses, only too aware that Johnny was watching her as she threaded her way across the room.
She had just placed the drinks down when Terry called attention for the big game.
There was much cheering as campers were told the prize was a week’s family holiday at Butlins. Then the room fell silent apart from the sound of the balls turning round in their basket and Terry’s voice as he announced each number. This time, there wasn’t a prize for a line, or the four corners of the card, as there had been in the previous games. The tension increased as each number was called. Molly felt the stirrings of excitement as she watched the campers in her section of the ballroom. She really hoped one of them would win the valuable prize. Just as she was beginning to think that no one was going to call out, there was a scream near where she was standing.
Gladys Sangster leaped to her feet, waving the card above her head. ‘I’ve won! I’ve only bloody won!’
9
Molly sipped the hot cocoa. It had been a good idea of Plum’s to fill a thermos flask in the cafe and take it back to their chalet for their night-time drink. Plum was already snoring gently in her bed. As her duties were different to the redcoats’, she was often in bed earlier than them, then up with the lark to tend to her charges.
It had been a wonderful evening, and when the Sangster family had won a week’s holiday at the camp, Molly had been delighted to join them to celebrate. She had really taken to the two ladies. They’d been through so much, what with losing a son and husband, but their outlook on life and how to enjoy themselves had made her think she could learn from this in her own life. Then again, the Sangsters hadn’t had two mysterious relatives arrive out of the blue and lay claim to their family’s property. Molly had never been materialistic, but something just wasn’t right about Harriet and Simon. She shuddered as she thought of the man’s advances, and snuggled under the bedcovers, warming her hands on her mug. It was close to summer, but the evenings were still chilly. The holiday camp was settling down for the night. For the first time that day, silence fell, broken only by the hoot of an owl and by occasional footsteps and whispered words as campers headed down the rows of chalets to their beds.
Placing her mug on the small table by her bed, Molly reminded herself to post the letters she’d managed to find time to write before heading off to the bingo game that evening. Her letter to Kath and George described the camp and the chalet she shared with Plum and Bunty, whereas the letter to Freda included more about Johnny Johnson and how she felt he was not quite the dashing matinee idol she’d formed a secret crush on in the days when she went to the Erith Odeon. As the envelopes had not been sealed, Molly opened her letter to Freda and added a postscript describing Johnny’s appearance at the bingo along with his snooty companion. Johnny had approached the Sangsters’ table after their win to offer his congratulations. Like Molly, he had accepted the invitation to sit with the family for a while. He’d not only charmed the two ladies but had also bought a round of drinks to celebrate their win. His companion, Gloria from the office, had walked off in a huff. Johnny hadn’t seemed to notice and spent the time charming the two ladies and even promised to dance with Olive when she mentioned wistfully that she hadn’t been old-time dancing since her husband had passed away, some years ago. Molly speculated that perhaps it didn’t bother Johnny that Gloria had not joined the party because he was so used to having women on his arm or fluttery around him. She realized she would be a fool if she didn’t admit to being just slightly attracted to the handsome man, but nevertheless assured herself, and Freda, in her letter to her, that it was more the allure of the world of the movies than of the man she had met in the flesh. The Johnny Johnson of her dreams was not the man she knew at Butlins. The film star Johnny would have swept her off her feet, as he had done more than once in her dreams, whereas the Butlins Johnny simply annoyed her, and his presence seemed to bring out her clumsiness.
Molly was just drifting off to sleep when she heard the door to their chalet slowly open and saw Bunty, outlined by the light of the moon, creep in, clutching her shoes. Looking at the luminous hands of her bedside clock, Molly noticed it was past one o’clock.
‘What’s going on?’ Plum muttered from her bed.
Bunty switched on the light. ‘I’m sorry I woke you,’ she whispered.
‘I wasn’t asleep,’ Molly said, squinting in the harsh light. ‘Were you working late?’ she asked, although she couldn’t think what duties a Butlins redcoat could have at this time of night, before she noticed Bunty was not wearing her uniform and was clutching a small doll.
‘I’m sorry – I lost track of the time.’
Molly could see Bunty had been crying, as her eyes were red and puffy. Apart from that, her face was as white as a ghost and she was shaking. Quickly climbing out of bed, she helped Bunty to her own bed and made her sit down. Pulling a cover around herself, Molly sat beside her and put an arm round the girl’s shoulders. ‘Now, tell us what’s happened.’
Plum poured the last of the cocoa into a mug and placed it in the girl’s hands. ‘Take a sip of this. There’s plenty of sugar, and that’s good for shock. Did something happen at the fairground?’
Molly frowned. ‘How . . . ?’
Plum nodded to Bunty’s feet and then the doll. The girl still had sand between her toes, and the small doll was identical to ones they’d seen being given away as prizes on several of the have-a-go stalls. She then remembered having spotted Bunty heading along the beach in the direction of the fairground that afternoon. ‘What happened to you, Bunty? You can confide in us. We won’t tell a soul.’
Plum nodded her agreement and reached for her brown flannelette dressing gown, pulling it on over the striped men’s pyjamas that she favoured. It was chilly in the wooden cabin without any form of heating.
Bunty sipped her drink and looked into space, deep in thought, before speaking. ‘It’s Gordon, my fiancé. He says they know where he is . . .’
Plum looked towards Molly and frowned, silently mouthing the word ‘What?’
‘Who are these people, Bunty?’ Molly asked, full of concern for her new friend.
‘Private investigators . . . perhaps even the police. Gordon said he’d been sent word they know where we are. He wants us to leave, move on . . .’ She looked at Molly and started to weep. ‘I’m so fed up with having to run all the time,’ she gulped. ‘I thought we’d be safe here for a while. We
ll, at least for the summer.’
Molly felt helpless. Whatever was this all about? From the look on Plum’s face, she was thinking the same. ‘I think it’s best if you get yourself into bed and try to sleep,’ she advised the weeping girl. ‘We can talk about this in the morning. That’s if you want to confide in us.’
Bunty nodded before wiping her eyes and blowing her nose on the handkerchief Plum had passed her. ‘Thank you. I’d like that. I don’t have anyone else. Well, apart from Gordon.’
‘Then that’s a plan,’ Plum said, pulling off her dressing gown and climbing back into bed.
‘I’m on breakfast duty in the morning, but I have an hour before I help with your nature ramble,’ Bunty said to Molly as she started to unbutton her cardigan.
‘Then I suggest we meet up and have a little chat, and until then you pin a Butlins smile on your face and we’ll see what can be done,’ instructed Molly.
‘You’d better meet me at the stables,’ said Plum. ‘I’ll be halfway through mucking out by the time you two have eaten and spent your time smiling at people. Some of us have to start work at the crack of dawn. Now, turn the light out and let me get some shut-eye.’
Molly grinned at Bunty and patted her shoulder. From the sound of it, whatever was behind Bunty’s problem, she wasn’t sure a little chat would solve it. Then again, having a shoulder to cry on when one felt low helped enormously. She knew that to be true.
The sun was shining brightly as Molly and Bunty headed for breakfast the next morning. Both were wearing white shorts and blouses with their red jackets on top and received admiring glances from a few of the younger male campers. Knowing she would be leading the nature trail after they’d met up with Plum for their chat, Molly had left her equipment in a staffroom close to reception. With her hair pinned up in a neat pleat, she looked as cool as a cucumber and prepared for whatever would be thrown at her during the morning’s trek with a crowd of children. She’d organized a few surprises for the children during their walk and was looking forward to seeing the expression on their faces.
The Butlins Girls Page 11
