Time Goes By

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Yes … great, Phil,’ she agreed, trying to sound cheerful. ‘Thanks for taking me.’ At least he leant across and kissed her cheek, and then opened the door for her. But before she had reached her front door he had driven away with a carefree wave.

  So what am I to make of that? she wondered as she took out her key and opened the door. She had expected, at least, that he might have asked her to go out with him that evening, for a drink or to the cinema, or to arrange to see her the following day. Phil Grantley was a mystery and no mistake. She dashed upstairs to her bedroom, unwilling at that moment to face her mother’s cross-questioning.

  Chapter Eight

  Winifred couldn’t help smiling to herself. It seemed that she and her brother, somewhat belatedly, were experiencing emotions and feelings that they had assumed were long past and gone. For her part, she had not told Albert about her meeting with Jeffrey Bancroft. Indeed, there was very little to say about it at the moment. He was just a very nice man whom she had enjoyed talking to and whom she believed had shown the same interest in her as she had in him. She tried to warn herself not to read too much into the situation. From the little she already knew of Jeffrey she had gathered he was a friendly man who would find it easy to get on with most people. But she knew she had not felt so attracted to anyone of the opposite sex since she had fallen in love with – and had then lost – Arthur all those years ago. She would be seeing Jeff again on Wednesday. She felt a lift of her spirits when she thought about it. And as she observed her brother she guessed that he would be glad of an opportunity to see again the young woman who had so appealed to him.

  And then on Monday Kathy brought home a letter from school that seemed to provide an answer to his dilemma. There was to be a spring fayre on Friday afternoon, commencing at half past three, and this was a letter reminding parents of the event. They had had a similar letter a few weeks back but it had quite slipped Winifred’s mind.

  ‘You’ll come, won’t you, Aunty Win?’ begged Kathy. ‘And you as well, Daddy. There’s going to be stalls selling all sorts of things.’ There was a request in the letter for home-made cakes, handmade goods, books, ‘bric-a-brac’, items for a ‘white elephant’ stall; anything, in fact, that would be saleable, apart from old clothing (jumble sales were held from time to time as separate events).

  ‘And there’ll be games,’ Kathy went on excitedly. ‘Guessing the name of a doll, and how much a cake weighs, and a bran tub and a tombola – but I’m not sure what that is – and a raffle with lots of prizes. And cups of tea and drinks and things to eat, ’cause it’s near teatime.’

  ‘Good gracious! It sounds as though your teachers are going to be very busy,’ observed Winifred.

  ‘Some of the mums are going in to help as well,’ said Kathy. ‘Those that are on the committee of that thingy – you know, the PTFA. D’you think you could come and help, Aunty Win?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that, love. I’m not on the committee, am I?’ She imagined they would be all much younger than herself, like Sadie Morris. ‘But I’ll certainly come to the fayre. And I expect your daddy will come as well. You will, won’t you, Albert?’

  ‘I don’t see any reason why not,’ he replied in his usual non-committal way, but Winifred could see that he was not averse to the idea and was even smiling a little. ‘There might not be many fathers there, though,’ he added. ‘Most of ’em’ll be working, won’t they?’

  ‘The teachers are hoping they’ll come later,’ said Kathy, ‘when they finish work. We’re doing a concert, you see; well, just a little one, at half past five. The top class infants – that’s us – we’re going to sing some songs; well, those that can sing nicely have been chosen, and I’m one of them.’

  ‘Good for you, Kathy,’ said her dad.

  ‘And some of the top class juniors are going to do some country dancing. It’s going to be really good.’

  ‘I’m sure it is. It all sounds very exciting,’ said Winifred. ‘We’ll look forward to that, won’t we Albert?’

  ‘Yes … I reckon we will,’ he said reflectively.

  Winifred had been reading through the script, trying to learn by heart as much as she was able, although they would not need to be word-perfect for a few weeks. It was always easier, though, when your movements were not hampered by a book in your hands and, fortunately, she had been blessed with a good memory that had not let her down yet, despite her advancing years.

  Jeff was not there when she arrived, nor had he put in an appearance when they started to rehearse. Snap out of it! she told herself, and concentrate on what you’re doing or you’re going to look a real fool. You’ve been given this leading role, so do justice to it.

  He turned up about half an hour later and, noticing him from the corner of an eye, she felt a relaxing of her tension. She did not look at him but she was aware that he was watching her.

  ‘Well done!’ he said, coming to join her in the interval. ‘You’re getting to grips with Lady B already, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m trying,’ she said. ‘It’ll be easier when I don’t have to rely on the script.’

  ‘When is it being performed?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, not till the end of July. We always give ourselves plenty of time, and make allowances for people going on holiday. We try to arrange our holidays for after the performance, though, if we can. Not that it affects me very much. I can never go away during the summer whilst the visitors are in. We have a break during August, then we meet up again in September … You’ve decided to stay with us, then, have you?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he replied. ‘I’d already decided after the first meeting.’ He smiled at her, his grey eyes looking intently into hers. ‘But, as I said, I shall just assist with the stage managing this time and give a hand with the scenery. I’ll have a chat with Wilfred after the break and see what he’d like me to do. I don’t mind being a “gofer”, seeing that I’m the new boy,’ he laughed good-humouredly.

  Jeff’s sister, Mavis Peacock, stood up then to draw their attention to the notices. The main one was that there was to be a coach outing in a few weeks’ time to the nearby town of Preston. A well-known amateur dramatic group from that town was also presenting The Importance of Being Earnest at one of the smaller theatres there. ‘We don’t want to pinch any of their ideas, of course,’ said Mavis. ‘And it’s possible that their interpretation will be quite different from ours, but we thought it would make an enjoyable outing. If you’re interested in going would you let me know as soon as possible, then I can book the theatre seats.’

  ‘Will you be going?’ Jeff asked Winifred.

  ‘Oh yes, I fully intend to go,’ she replied. The date chosen was the first Friday evening in May. ‘Albert – my brother – sometimes has a darts match on a Friday, but I can always get my next-door neighbour to look after Kathy if necessary.’

  ‘You won’t have any visitors in?’ asked Jeff.

  ‘No, it’s a slack time between Easter and Whitsun. And if we do have a few in we’ll be able to sort something out, I’m sure. It’s something I don’t want to miss … What about you, Jeff?’ she asked. ‘Will you be going?’

  ‘But of course,’ he smiled. ‘That’s why I asked you. I’ll put our names down straight away, shall I?’

  ‘Yes please,’ said Winifred, very pleased at the way things were progressing.

  He was not watching the rehearsal when they started again, but he was there to run her home in his car at the end of the evening.

  ‘Are you doing anything on Saturday?’ he asked as he stopped the car outside Holmleigh.

  ‘Not particularly,’ she replied. ‘Do you mean during the day or in the evening?’ Could he possibly be asking her for a ‘date’, she wondered?

  ‘I was wondering whether you would like to go to the cinema,’ he said. ‘I haven’t checked what is on, but I’m sure we’ll be able to find something that we’ll both enjoy.’ He laughed. ‘I can’t get over the number of cinemas that there ar
e in Blackpool.’

  ‘Yes, we’re pretty fortunate in that respect,’ agreed Winifred. There was the Odeon; the Princess; the Palace Picture Pavilion, as well as the Palace Variety Theatre in the same building; the Winter Gardens cinema; the Tivoli; the Regent; the ABC; and the Imperial, all near the centre of the town, as well as several more in the outlying suburbs. She enjoyed a visit to the cinema but it wasn’t much fun going on her own, and Albert never seemed inclined to go with her. She occasionally took Kathy to a matinee on a Saturday afternoon if there was something suitable showing. The little girl loved the singing and dancing in the musicals of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and 20th Century Fox, featuring such stars as Betty Grable, Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, and of course, she loved the Walt Disney films.

  ‘I’ll look in the Gazette and see what’s on, shall I?’ said Jeff. ‘That is, if you’d like to go?’

  ‘Yes, I would, very much,’ she replied.

  ‘That’s great, then.’ He grinned at her. ‘What sort of films do you like? Have you any preference?’

  ‘Oh, my taste is pretty general,’ she told him. ‘But I’m not keen on cowboy films, or on gangsters. James Cagney is not one of my favourites,’ she smiled.

  ‘Nor mine,’ he agreed. ‘Laurence Olivier now, or James Mason; they’re what I call real actors. But I must confess I’m not averse to something more light-hearted now and again. The ‘Road’ films, for instance. Bing Crosby and Bob Hope …’

  ‘And Dorothy Lamour,’ added Winifred. ‘Yes, I like those too. I took Kathy to see The Road to Morocco and she loved it.’

  ‘Will there be any problem regarding your niece?’ Jeff asked her. ‘Will your brother be able to look after her? He might be going out himself.’

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ said Winifred. ‘He’s usually in on a Saturday. His darts matches are during the week. Don’t worry; we’ll sort something out, I’m sure.’

  ‘I’ll phone you, then, shall I, when we’ve both looked at the paper?’

  ‘Lovely,’ she agreed, smiling at him and feeling like a twenty-year-old going on her first date. He put his hand over hers, then leant across and kissed her gently on the cheek, before getting out of the car and going round to open the door for her.

  ‘Goodnight, Winifred, my dear,’ he said. ‘Sleep well …’

  ‘You too,’ she replied. ‘And … thanks, Jeff. I’ll look forward to Saturday.’

  ‘Me too.’ He gave a broad smile and a cheery wave as he drove away.

  Winifred decided not to tell her brother straight away about her outing with Jeff. He could hardly object, though. She scarcely ever went out, except to church functions or to the drama group. It would be ironic, though, if he should happen to have a date of his own on the same night; two middle-aged people whose life had followed the same routine for so long, and who were now seeking just a little excitement. She forced herself to wake up to reality. She knew – and she knew that Albert would realise, too – that whatever might happen in their personal lives, Katherine had to come first.

  Very little work was done on that Friday afternoon at the North Shore school; that is to say very little schoolwork. Lessons were largely abandoned as classes were ‘doubled up’, releasing half of the teachers to prepare the stalls and games for the spring fayre, helped by the ladies of the committee and their friends who would, later, be in charge of the refreshment room. Several of the older children, those in the fourth-year junior classes, were enlisted to help as well, and they considered themselves to be very important. The rest of the pupils had to contain their excitement all afternoon as they looked forward to what was one of the great social events of the year.

  It had been planned to start at three-thirty, which was the finishing time for the infant classes; the juniors did not normally finish until four o’clock, but on this day they were all going home at the same time. It was hoped, though, that very few of them would be going home. It was assumed that mothers – and fathers – meeting their younger children from school would stay for the fayre, and that the older children would have persuaded their parents, grandparents and aunts and uncles to come along as well.

  Sally Roberts felt very sad as she watched a few of her pupils, and some from the other classes, put on their coats and then walk dejectedly across the playground. There were only three such in her class, the very ones that she might have known would not be staying to join in the fun; they were the ones whose parents rarely supported the school events or even bothered to turn up on open evenings. Those parents were the ones, however, who would be there, with all guns blazing, should there be a complaint to be made about the teacher or the headmaster.

  There was little time to brood, though, as the other children eagerly greeted their parents and guests, leading them proudly around the school. It was not a time for looking at the children’s books or talking about their progress, but the teachers had pulled out all the stops to make the school look as attractive as possible. The corridors were decorated with large paintings and friezes made by the various classes. Sally’s ‘Pied Piper’ was there, as well as springtime collages, a depiction of the ‘Noah’s Ark’ story, paintings of Blackpool’s attractions – the Tower, the big dipper at the Pleasure Beach, the bright yellow sands and the unusually blue sea, and the tramcars on the busy promenade – and drawings of Mummy and Daddy and ‘my house’ done by the youngest children, aged four and five.

  Sally was in charge of the tombola game. Each person, after paying their sixpence, drew out a raffle ticket and was awarded the corresponding prize. In a true tombola some of the tickets won nothing at all, but it had been agreed that this was too disappointing for the very young children; and so every ticket won a prize, although it might only be a few sweets or a tiny bar of chocolate. The initial outlay was worth it in the end as many were encouraged to have another go.

  Kathy Leigh came into the tombola room about ten minutes into the proceedings, with her father and aunt.

  ‘Now, Kathy, are you going to have a turn?’ said Sally. ‘There are some lovely prizes; you might not win one of the big ones, but you’re sure to win something.’

  ‘Yes, we’ll all have a go,’ said Mr Leigh, feeling in his pocket for some change. ‘Here you are, Kathy. You go first.’

  The little girl won a brightly coloured pencil and a rubber, with which she seemed highly pleased. Her aunt then won a bottle of Amami shampoo, and her father a bottle of ginger beer.

  ‘It would go very nicely with that whisky,’ he remarked, pointing to one of the star prizes.

  ‘Have another go, then, Albert,’ said his sister.

  ‘OK. Nothing venture, nothing win,’ he said, handing over another sixpence.

  They were all astonished when he won the bottle of Black & White whisky.

  ‘Well done!’ exclaimed Sally, handing him the bottle. ‘I’m very pleased it’s going to such a good home! You’re not teetotal, then, Mr Leigh?’

  ‘No fear!’ he chuckled. ‘I’m wondering – Miss Roberts – may we leave these bottles here and collect them later? It’ll save us carrying them all round the school. We’ve a lot to see, haven’t we, Kathy?’ Kathy nodded, quite pink-cheeked with excitement.

  ‘Certainly,’ said Sally. ‘I’ll put them in the cupboard. Don’t forget them, though.’

  ‘There’s no chance of that,’ said Mr Leigh, smiling warmly at her.

  A nice man, she mused as they went away. He had a lovely smile; but she reflected, as she had done before, that he probably did not smile all that often.

  Kathy was enjoying herself immensely, showing her dad and aunty all the interesting pictures on the walls, and then leading them into the classrooms where the various stalls and games were going on. She chose the name of a doll from a long list of names.

  ‘I think she might be called Sally,’ she said, printing her own name carefully on the list. ‘It’s Miss Roberts’ name,’ she whispered to her aunt, ‘but I don’t think many of the others know that.’

  It was a lo
vely baby doll with eyes that closed, dressed in a hand-knitted coat and bonnet. ‘You might not win, you know,’ her aunt told her. ‘It’s just luck, really, like the raffle and the tombola.’

  ‘I’m not bothered,’ Kathy replied. ‘I’ve got my prize from the tombola and these books, and I’m having a lovely time. Are you enjoying it, Aunty Win?’

  ‘Indeed I am,’ Winifred replied. She was pleased to see how delighted Kathy was by everything. She was such a good little girl and so easily pleased. Not like some badly behaved children who were to be seen in Woolworths on a Saturday afternoon, crying blue murder because they couldn’t get their own way. Winifred noticed that her brother seemed to be getting into the spirit of things too, in his own quiet way.

  In the next room, where there was a home-made cake stall, they met Shirley with her dad. Her mum, who was a member of the committee, was serving on the stall. Shirley had told Kathy that her dad would be able to come because he was on early shift that day and finished at dinner time. Introductions were made whilst Shirley and Kathy smiled at one another.

  ‘I’m pleased to see that most of my fairy cakes have been sold,’ said Winifred, ‘and the fruit cake that I made.’

  ‘Oh yes, they went very quickly,’ said Sadie Morris. ‘I didn’t know they were yours. You could say they sold like hot cakes,’ she laughed, ‘whatever that means.’

  ‘Can we go round on our own, me and Kathy?’ asked Shirley, after a whispered consultation between the two of them.

  ‘It’s all right with me,’ said Shirley’s mum, ‘but you’re supposed to be showing your dad round, aren’t you?’

  ‘Oh, that’s OK,’ said Mr Morris, winking at Winifred. ‘I think I’ll just nip out for a quick smoke in the playground.’