One Week in August Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  A Selection of Recent Titles by Margaret Thornton

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A Selection of Recent Titles by Margaret Thornton

  ABOVE THE BRIGHT BLUE SKY

  DOWN AN ENGLISH LANE

  A TRUE LOVE OF MINE

  REMEMBER ME

  UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

  TIME GOES BY

  CAST THE FIRST STONE *

  FAMILIES AND FRIENDSHIPS *

  OLD FRIENDS, NEW FRIENDS *

  FIRST IMPRESSIONS *

  ONE WEEK IN AUGUST *

  * available from Severn House

  ONE WEEK IN AUGUST

  Margaret Thornton

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  This first world edition published 2015

  in Great Britain and the USA by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.

  Trade paperback edition first published 2015 in Great

  Britain and the USA by SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD.

  eBook edition first published in 2015 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Copyright © 2015 by Margaret Thornton.

  The right of Margaret Thornton to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Thornton, Margaret, 1934– author.

  One week in august.

  1. Dance parties–England–Blackpool–Fiction. 2. Love

  stories.

  I. Title

  823.9’14-dc23

  ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8553-1 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-662-6 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-716-5 (e-book)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Falkirk,

  Stirlingshire, Scotland.

  ONE

  ‘Are we fully booked for August, Mum? I know it’s been a good season so far, hasn’t it?’

  Lilian Butler looked questioningly at her daughter, Janice, as she answered her. ‘Yes, it’s been very good, love, and I’m pleased to say we’re fully booked for August …’

  Janice had very little to do with the running of the small hotel. Lilian liked to refer to her business as a hotel rather than a boarding house, which was what her late mother had always called it. Lilian had made sure that her daughter would never be involved in the business as she had been forced to be from an early age. No, Janice had been encouraged to work hard at school and concentrate on her studies. And she had done so. She was now awaiting the results of her A level exams, and in September she would be going off to university.

  ‘Why do you want to know?’ Lilian asked her now. ‘I’m not going to ask you to give up your bedroom, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘Of course I’m not thinking that, Mum, you’ve never done that. No, I was wondering if I could help in some way. I’d love to be a waitress. I’ve never minded washing up – you know that – but I’d like to do something else as well.’

  ‘Oh, there’s no need, love, really there isn’t,’ replied Lilian. ‘Olive and Nancy are very capable waitresses, and they help out in other ways as well. No, you enjoy your holiday while you can. You’ll be off to college soon, so you might as well make the most of your freedom.’

  ‘But I’m bored, Mum! Some of my friends have got jobs for the season. Susan’s working at Marks and Spencer’s, and Jean and Kath have got jobs in big hotels on the prom, so I don’t see them very much. But you didn’t want me to get a job, did you? So why don’t you let me help out here? I know Olive and Nancy are rushed off their feel sometimes. I’ve heard Olive complaining about her swollen ankles and—’

  ‘Oh, all right then!’ Lilian sighed, but she smiled at her daughter. ‘I’ll think about it. But we’ve enough people working for us, in one way or another. That’s why I’ve never wanted you to be part of it, nor your dad …’

  This conversation was taking place one evening towards the end of July of 1955, in the large kitchen at the rear of the hotel. The washing-up – a mammoth task – following the evening meal had been done, with Janice helping as she did nearly every evening, along with Olive and Nancy. This was one job that Lilian allowed her daughter to do. And the waitresses were worth their weight in gold, as Lilian often remarked. Not only did they serve the guests at meal times; they came in each Saturday, which was known as ‘change-over day’, when the beds were changed in readiness for the next lot of visitors. And they arrived early each morning to serve the breakfasts, and had never been late. Both of them were in their forties, with husbands and children who were in their late teens or married. They were glad to earn some money to help with the household expenses, and to give them a bit of independence, without having to travel far to their place of work.

  Lilian reflected now, though, that it might not be a bad idea to have a younger person helping them. They were both attractive enough and were always clean and tidy, but Janice … well, her mother had to admit that she was a lovely-looking girl and was always so bright and cheerful. So Lilian told her that she really would consider it. She was rewarded by a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Thanks, Mum. I’ll work hard, and I’ll get up early for the breakfasts. I’ll go up and read for a while now, and leave you to watch Emergency Ward Ten.’

  Lilian joined her husband, Alec, in the family living room where he was hidden behind the Blackpool Evening Gazette. He put down his paper and smiled at her. ‘All done and dusted, love?’

  ‘Yes, thank goodness! I really think washing up is the worst chore of all. I’ve been thinking, Alec, we should get one of those dish-washing machines. It would be a real godsend, I’m sure.’

  ‘Then why don’t you?’ said her husband. ‘We can afford it, can’t we? You’ve said we’ve been nearly fully booked all season, so you might as well get all the mod cons you need.’ He laughed. ‘Just listen to me, “We’re fully booked!” As though I had anything to do with it! It’s your business, Lilian, and you make a damned good job of it an’ all.’

  ‘I couldn’t do it without your support, Alec. You’re always there when I need you. You do all the odd jobs, and move the furniture around, things that wom
en can’t do very well. And you know that I made it quite clear to Mother when you first came here that you were to have no part in the running of the boarding house. That’s one place where I did put my foot down. You’d already given up your job and moved here so that we could get married. And I made sure we had our own rooms as well; a bedroom for us and one each for our Janice and Ian when they came along. I never knew where I’d be sleeping next when I was a kiddie, and our Len as well. We shared a room until … well, until long after the age when we should have had our own rooms. And many a time at the height of the season we had to sleep on the floor; well, on a mattress, in any odd corner where there was room.’

  ‘Never mind, love,’ said Alec. ‘Those days are over now. I know you still work jolly hard, but you’re no longer the slave that you used to be for your mother, are you? You’re able to please yourself and do things the way you want to. So you go ahead and get that dishwasher and anything else you want.’

  Lilian nodded. ‘Yes I think I will … Janice has just asked me if she can help out as a waitress; and I’ve more or less said that she can. What do you think?’

  ‘I think that’s a great idea, love. Good for her! These school holidays are so long and the kids get bored … Where’s our Ian, by the way?’

  ‘He’s off playing football with his mates. You can’t really say he gets bored; he’s always out and about somewhere. But Janice says she’s a bit fed up at the moment with her friends working, and she’s no need to do any more studying, not yet.’

  ‘Well, you let her be a waitress then. You can be sure she’ll go down well with the visitors. But make sure you pay her a reasonable wage. She’ll need a bit of extra cash when she goes off to college.’

  ‘Yes, you can be sure I’ll do that. I was working for peanuts when I was her age. Mother seemed to imagine I didn’t need paying when I was getting my bed and board.’

  Alec chuckled. ‘Yes, but I made her change her tune when I came to live here, didn’t I? She wasn’t such a bad old girl, your mother, all things considered. I managed to get on the right side of her, though God knows how I did it!’

  ‘She was relieved that you weren’t carrying me off to live in Burnley, wasn’t she pleased that you’d decided to come and live here? Of course, I could have defied her and left home; I was well turned twenty-one. But it was hard – well, impossible – to say no to my mother …’

  Florence Cartwright, always known as Florrie, had moved to Blackpool from Wigan in the spring of 1919 with her two children, Lilian, then aged nine, and Leonard, aged seven. She had been widowed in the Great War, like so many of her generation. But Florrie had never been one to give way and feel sorry for herself, or let the grass grow under her feet. She had a little money put by, earned during the long hours she had worked at the cotton mill, and with a little help from her parents she was able to scrape together enough money to put down a deposit on a boarding house in Blackpool. She had enjoyed a couple of holidays and day trips to the seaside town, as had many of her friends at the mill.

  In 1919, in the aftermath of the dreadful war, Blackpool was the place to be to recapture some of the fun and gaiety of the prewar days. The introduction of cheap railway excursions meant that ordinary working folk were able to afford a few days’ holiday, and motor charabancs, too, were becoming a popular means of travel.

  The boarding house where the Cartwright family came to live was in Blackpool’s North Shore, in a long street of similar three-storeyed buildings, adjacent to the promenade. There were fifteen bedrooms, including the attic rooms, one of which was assigned to Lilian and Leonard. It was a mid-Victorian dwelling with none of the facilities that the owners and the visitors now took for granted in the mid-fifties. There was no bathroom and only one indoor toilet, known as the WC, on the first landing; plus another lavatory outside at the bottom of the backyard.

  There was no running water in the bedrooms, only a large jug and bowl on a washstand in each room (with a chamber pot, known as a ‘guzzunder’, on the bottom shelf of the stand). Hot water had to be carried up to each room every morning, and then, later, the slops had to be emptied. There was running water downstairs, of course, heated by a coal fire in the kitchen range, then, later, by a geyser.

  Victorian families had been visiting Blackpool throughout the nineteenth century and even before that time, often returning year after year to the same house. In those days they were usually referred to as lodging houses. The landladies – they were invariably women who were in charge of the houses – worked long hours from early dawn till dusk. Not only did they take care of their visitors’ ablutions, they also cleaned their shoes and cooked a vast variety of food stuffs brought in each day by the separate families. There was a nominal charge each day for milk and potatoes, and some landladies even charged extra for the use of a cruet. This was something that Florrie Cartwright had never done. By the time she took over the boarding house the rule of charging for the cruet had come to be regarded as a music hall joke.

  There were many of the old Victorian ways, though, that were still being adhered to. Every available bed was filled during the summer season, visitors sometimes sleeping three to a bed, but no one ever complained. Lilian, nine years old at the time, remembered those days very well, more so than her brother, Leonard. It was taken for granted that Lilian, on leaving school, would work full time in the boarding house, but Florrie had had no such plans for Leonard. She had agreed that he should do as he wished and start work as an apprentice at a local garage. He had been fascinated by this newish form of transport ever since he was a tiny boy. Now, in 1955, he had his own business, a thriving garage on the outskirts of Blackpool, on the road leading to Poulton-le-Fylde.

  Lilian had enjoyed going to school. She was a clever girl, always near to the top of the class, and she had not wanted to leave. But she had been given no choice in the matter, there was a ready-made ‘career’ waiting for her. Some of her friends were in the same position, many of them were the daughters of landladies. Other girls were going to work in shops or offices in the town, to learn the skills of typing and shorthand, and some were going on to further study, maybe to train eventually as teachers or nurses. Lilian had never really considered what her chosen career might have been, had she been given the choice. She was catapulted at fourteen into boarding-house work: cooking, cleaning, mending, shopping, washing, ironing … She was paid little more than the spending money she had been given as a child, although her mother did still buy – and usually chose – the clothes she wore.

  During this period, until the early 1930s, the boarding houses were run largely on the old lodging house system, with visitors bringing, then buying their own food each day. But this was gradually phased out until, by the late 1930s, the visitors were enjoying ‘Bed and full board’. This tariff consisted of a cooked breakfast, a midday dinner, and a meal at around five thirty known as ‘high tea’.

  It must be said, in all fairness, that Florrie did employ extra help to assist with the many and varied chores. There were two full-time chamber maids and a cleaning woman who came once a week to do the rough housework.

  Florrie did all the cooking, following the skills she had learnt from her mother. The job came naturally to her and she did not find it arduous, although it was tricky, to say the least, juggling with the various foods that the visitors brought in to be cooked to their special requirements. A young girl who had just left school was employed as a scullery maid to help with the menial tasks: peeling potatoes, preparing vegetables and coping with the endless round of washing up.

  So when Lilian left school there were three of them working in the kitchen. Lilian was trained, by her mother, in the art of cooking. Florrie, though largely self-taught, conjured up palatable meals from the most basic ingredients. Lilian was a quick learner and, on the whole, she enjoyed the work. It was best not to think of the lost opportunities, the various paths that she might have followed if she had been allowed to please herself.

  Her mother did al
low her a certain amount of freedom. She had a half-day off each week when she could look round the shops and treat herself to something to wear from the small allowance she was paid; or she could walk along the promenade or the North Pier, which was near to the boarding house, enjoying the fresh sea air and the bracing Blackpool breezes. She had a few friends from her school days and they occasionally visited the cinema or went dancing at the Winter Gardens or the Tower Ballroom. But visiting the dance halls was something that Lilian was not allowed to do until she had reached the age of eighteen.

  It was in 1930, when she was twenty years of age, that Lilian met Alec Butler. He came, with two friends, as a visitor to the boarding house. The three young men were from the Lancashire town of Burnley where they were all employed in a cotton mill. Alec had progressed from his first job as a weaver and was now an overlooker – often referred to as a tackler – in charge of a weaving shed.

  The twenty-two-year-old Alec was immediately attracted to the pretty dark-haired young woman who served their meals. In addition to her work in the kitchen Lilian also waited on the guests at meal times along with the current scullery maid. They quickly discarded their working overalls and donned white aprons. Alec soon discovered that she was the daughter of Mrs Cartwright the proprietor, and he lost no time in asking her to accompany him to the cinema.

  Florrie had no objection to this. She soon summed up Alec as a nice, well-brought-up young man, and she watched with interest as the two of them became friendlier over the week that the lads were staying there. He had certainly brought a sparkle to Lilian’s eyes and a rosy glow to her cheeks. That would be the end of it, though, she surmised, when the trio returned to Burnley.