Time Goes By Page 5

  ‘I haven’t said anything to Frank,’ Sadie continued. ‘He would only say no, we can manage, and there’s Brenda to consider, and all that. I thought if I sorted something out first and then told him later, it would be a question of “fait accompli”.’

  Kathy didn’t understand all that, but she thought how nice it would be to have Shirley’s mum working at the hotel. She couldn’t leave little Brenda at home, though. Wouldn’t it be good if she could bring Brenda with her, then she, Kathy, could look after her? It would be nearly as good as having a little sister of her own.

  ‘Mmm …’ Aunty Win was nodding solemnly. ‘Yes, I see the problem … Sadie. You don’t want to cause trouble with your husband, do you?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure it won’t come to that,’ replied Mrs Morris. ‘But he’s like all men; he likes to think he’s the one in charge.’ She glanced cautiously at Kathy’s dad, but he didn’t seem to be listening.

  ‘You could bring your little girl with you,’ said Aunty Win. ‘You’d look after her, wouldn’t you, Kathy?’ She seemed to realise that Kathy had been listening all the time.

  ‘Ooh, yes! I’d like that,’ agreed Kathy.

  ‘And Shirley could come as well, if you like,’ Aunty Win went on. ‘They could amuse themselves, I’m sure, whilst you were busy. And Shirley and Kathy are such good friends, aren’t they?’

  Kathy pondered that it would have been rather nice to look after Brenda on her own. Shirley was inclined to be bossy and to want to be in charge all the time; like her mum had said that Mr Morris liked to be. Still, it would be good to have somebody to play with during the school holiday. It was often a lonely time with her dad and aunt busy working all the day.

  Kathy heard her aunt suggest that Mrs Morris – Sadie – could be a waitress for the midday meals, except for Sunday when she would be at home with her family, and then perhaps she could help with the washing-up. ‘It’s a mammoth task when we’re fully booked,’ said Aunty Win. ‘At the height of the season we might have as many as thirty guests.’

  But Mrs Morris just smiled. ‘It’s all in a day’s work,’ she said. ‘I’ve never minded washing up.’

  ‘What I could really do with, though, is some help with the bookkeeping,’ said Winifred. ‘Albert leaves all that side of things to me, and it’s a bit of a headache sometimes. The books have to be kept in order for the taxman, and maths has never been my strong point. We’ve muddled through so far, more by good luck than good management, but the laws are getting stricter now. I don’t suppose you could …?’ She looked hopefully at Mrs Morris.

  ‘I’d be delighted,’ said Sadie. ‘That’s a job I could do at home, if it’s all right with you. I studied bookkeeping at night school. I’ve got a typewriter too – I’ve had it since I was doing my studying – so I could do any letters you want typing.’

  ‘Do you know, this is like an answer to a prayer!’ exclaimed Winifred. ‘Except that I’d never have thought of asking God for help with my office work!’

  The two ladies settled down to a long chat over a cup of tea. Kathy’s bedtime seemed to have been forgotten, so she kept quiet. So had little Brenda’s and Shirley’s, she thought. She hoped that Mrs Morris wouldn’t be in trouble with her husband when she got home.

  Chapter Five

  Winifred had been a member of the dramatic society ever since it had started, back in 1920. She had felt the need of an interest outside of the home which, in her case, was also her place of work. In some ways it had been a lonely sort of life compared with some of her friends, girls of the same age who had jobs outside of the home; that was until they married, when it was expected that young women would stay at home, caring for their husbands and families. But the recent war had taken its toll, and many young women, bereaved, as Winifred had been, viewed the future as one of inevitable spinsterhood.

  The boarding house had been very much a family affair, with her mother, Alice Leigh, at the helm. Alice was just one of a vast army of seaside landladies, veritable matriarchs, who were becoming quite a force to be reckoned with. Blackpool landladies, in particular, were often the butt of music hall jokes and comic postcards, and even more so were their husbands. It was said that these downtrodden little men spent most of their lives in the kitchen, peeling endless amounts of spuds, and tackling great mountains of washing-up. This was not strictly true in all cases. William Leigh, Alice’s husband, for instance, had had a job outside of the home. He was a painter and decorator by trade, the job he had been apprenticed to on leaving school and in which he was employed when he met Alice.

  Alice’s parents had ‘not been short of a bob or two’, as Lancashire folk were often heard to say. Soon after the marriage of the young couple they had helped Alice and William to buy the North Shore boarding house, and it had proved to be an excellent investment. It had been intended at first that Alice should run the business on her own, with just a little paid help. Later on, however, it had seemed only sensible that William should put his weight behind it as well, taking decorating jobs for other people during the winter months, at the same time doing the painting and decorating that was continually needed at the boarding house.

  Now, in 1950, William and Alice were thankfully and happily retired. Albert was more or less in the same position as his father had been. His skills as a painter and decorator had been taught to him by his father. The difference was that Albert had also learnt to cook – in fact he was considered to be an excellent cook – something his father would never have dreamt of doing, and unheard of in the days of the old Blackpool landladies. And the boarding house – now a private hotel – was doing so well that Albert did not need to do jobs for other people. The ongoing work at Holmleigh kept him quite busy enough.

  Winifred had never given a great deal of thought as to whether or not she would be able to act, when she had first joined the dramatic group. She had seen it mainly as a way of meeting other young people, and as a means of helping her to recover from the ache in her heart, still there after more than a year, whenever she thought about Arthur. Maybe, at the back of her mind, there had been the thought that she might, sooner or later, meet another young man who could come to mean as much to her as Arthur had done. But the years had gone by and this had not happened. There was, inevitably, a dearth of younger men – as the girls often complained, they were either too young or too old – and the few that joined the dramatic society, in the first instance and then in later years, had somehow never ignited that vital spark of interest in Winifred.

  She had, many years ago, struck up a friendship with a friend of her brother. But he, like Albert, was five years younger than herself, not that that would have been of any consequence had they been truly attracted to one another. But after a couple of outings to the cinema and the music hall she had told him that she didn’t wish to go out with him again. He had not seemed bothered at all, and she had wondered then if he had only asked her out at the request of her brother who, she knew, sympathised with her predicament.

  Then there had been an older man, a solicitor in the town, who had been left a widower in his early thirties. There again, though, Winifred had known that there was no way she would ever want to spend the rest of her life with him, although he had seemed rather keen that she should consider doing so.

  Nowadays she did not fret about her lack of a husband. Neither did she envy her married friends. Sometimes, indeed, she felt that she, as a spinster, had the best of it. Some men were so dogmatic and domineering. She was contented – happy, even – in her own quiet way. The dramatic society that she had joined initially to ease her loneliness had proved to be a source of inspiration and motivation to her. To her amazement she had found that she could act and, to her surprise and delight, after a year or two she was playing the female lead in some of the plays they performed.

  She was not, by nature, an outgoing sort of person, but she did not find it difficult to take on the guise and the personality of the character she was playing. Neither would she have consi
dered herself to be beautiful; she was certainly not at all like Joan Crawford or Gloria Swanson, the film stars of the time, but she supposed she had a pleasing face and figure, which, with her warm brown hair and greenish eyes, could be used onstage to her best advantage.

  Her days of playing the young heroine, alas, were well past. However, she still enjoyed acting the more mature parts, as mothers or unmarried aunts. She had played the mother in J.B. Priestley’s An Inspector Calls, and one of the middle-aged wives, which called for a certain amount of comedy, in When We Are Married, another of Priestley’s plays. That one had been their last production. He was one of their favourite playwrights, but this year they were planning to put on a play from the end of the last century.

  One of Winifred’s best-loved roles, as a young woman, had been that of Gwendolen Fairfax in The Importance of Being Earnest. They had performed that way back in 1925 and now the producer – a different one by this time – had decided it was time to bring back Oscar Wilde’s most famous play.

  Would she be able to cope with the part of Lady Bracknell, she wondered? It was widely expected that it would be given to Winifred, but it was not yet cut and dried. There was to be a preliminary reading of the play at the next meeting. That would be on Wednesday evening.

  But before that it was Kathy’s Brownie meeting on Tuesday. They met in the church hall at six o’ clock. Girls were supposed to be seven years old before they joined the Brownies, but as Kathy would be seven in June she had been allowed to join a couple of months early. This was really a special favour because Brown Owl was a friend of her Aunty Win, and also because Shirley, who had turned seven in January, had pleaded with Brown Owl for her friend to be allowed to join.

  This would be her fourth time at Brownies and to Kathy it was one of the special times in the week. She was proud of her brown tunic, the real leather belt and silver buckle, and the yellow tie with a lovely little tiepin shaped like an elf that was fastened to it. Some of the older girls – the eight- or nine-year-olds – had badges sewn on to their sleeves that they had been awarded for passing tests: homecraft, needlework, artwork, music, swimming and all sorts of other things. Kathy was already learning to tie knots – that was one of the first tests they worked for – and she knew it would be quite easy for her to get her homecraft badge as well. That involved doing simple jobs in the home, like making a cup of tea, setting the table and washing up. She was already used to doing jobs like that.

  Shirley was already there when Aunty Win left her at the church hall. Kathy took off her coat and hung it up and went over to join her friend.

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ said Shirley excitedly. ‘My mum’s going to come and work at your hotel. She’s going to be a waitress – I ’spect your aunty will let her be the one in charge, ’cause she says the two she had last summer were just girls helping out in the school holiday – and my mum’s going to do the books as well; y’know, sorting out the money an’ bills an’ all that.’

  ‘Oh … that’s nice,’ replied Kathy. She knew that if she told Shirley that she already knew – or at least had heard something about it – then Shirley would be mad at her and get all huffy like she did sometimes.

  ‘And your aunty says that me and our Brenda can come as well and play with you while my mum’s busy working. That’ll be good, won’t it?’

  ‘Yes, that’s very nice.’ Kathy nodded. ‘Actually … Aunty Win did sort of say that you and Brenda might be coming … but I didn’t know it was all decided. Why didn’t you tell me at school today?’

  ‘Because my mum’s only just told me, that’s why!’ said Shirley, a little impatiently. ‘Actually, they had a row – my mum and dad – when she got back from your house last night. It was past Brenda’s bedtime, and she’d already had two stories read to her and Mum wasn’t there to see to her. So Dad told me to help her to get undressed and have a wash an’ all that. And he didn’t half shout at my mum for being such a long time. I could hear them from upstairs.’

  ‘Oh dear!’ said Kathy. ‘I thought he was really nice, your dad. He’s good fun, isn’t he?’ She didn’t say that he was not like her own dad who could be grumpy some of the time, because that wouldn’t be a very nice thing to say.

  ‘Sometimes he is,’ replied Shirley. ‘But he can get mad as well. He likes to be the boss, y’see; that’s why my brother thinks he can boss me around – he’s just trying to be like our dad. Anyway, my mum came upstairs then to see to Brenda and she looked real upset. I thought she was going to cry, but she didn’t. She said to me not to worry, ’cause Daddy would get over it, like he always does.’

  ‘So are they all right now?’ asked Kathy.

  ‘I think so. They seemed all right when Daddy came home from work. Mummy gave him his tea, then she had to come straight out to bring me here. But she told me and Graham at teatime about coming to work at your hotel. She said that Daddy wasn’t too pleased at the idea, but she would work on him. That’s when she said me and Brenda could come with her. And I think your aunty said we could have our dinner with you as well.’

  ‘What about Graham?’ asked Kathy.

  Shirley laughed. ‘That’s just what he said. “What about me? Who’s going to make my dinner?” And Mummy told him he was just like Daddy, always thinking about himself.’

  ‘So what will he do?’

  ‘Oh, he’s out most of the time in the holidays playing football. I ’spect he might go to Jimmy’s; he’s his best friend. My mum certainly won’t neglect him,’ Shirley added.

  Kathy pondered that family life – real family life, with a mother and father and children – must sometimes have arguments and fallings-out as well as fun and happy times. All the same, it must be rather nice, she thought.

  Then it was time for the meeting to begin. They all stood round the big toadstool in the centre of the room. They saluted with three fingers and promised to do their best, to do their duty to God and the King, and to help other people every day. Then they went off into their ‘sixes’; there were five of these groups. They were called Elves, Fairies, Pixies, Sprites and Gnomes. Kathy was an elf, and so was Shirley. The leader of each six was called the ‘sixer’. Kathy knew it would be a long time before she achieved that honour, but for the moment she was enjoying the fun and games and learning the different skills. She could already tie a reef knot and a slip knot, and they were learning to knit – pearl stitch as well as garter stitch. The finished article would, hopefully, make a cover for a doll’s bed.

  She told her aunt on the way home what Shirley had said about her mum and dad falling out.

  ‘Oh dear!’ said Aunty Win. ‘I do hope it isn’t going to cause trouble. Sadie – Mrs Morris – is only trying to help a little with the money side of things. I’m looking forward to having her. I’m sure she’ll be popular with the visitors; she’s such a friendly young lady. Never mind, I expect it’ll all come out in the wash, as your grandma likes to say.’

  Kathy thought again what funny things grown-ups said sometimes.

  The play reading was to take place in the same church hall the following evening. The hall was in use every afternoon and evening for groups such as Brownies and Guides, Cubs and Scouts, Mothers’ Union and Young Wives, as well as for all the social events that took place in the parish. Winifred was neither a young wife nor a mother, and although both those groups had said she would be welcome to join them she had not done so. She did not want to feel like a fish out of water.

  She was, however, a person of some importance now in the drama group. She was always there early in her capacity as registrar to collect the subs and to welcome everyone. She was also vice-chairman of the group and next year it would be her turn to be in the chair.

  When the present chairman, Mavis Peacock, arrived she was accompanied by a man that Winifred had not seen before. A new member, she wondered, looking at him with interest – she was careful not to show too keen an interest – although he was what might be called a handsome figure of a man.
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br />   ‘Oh, hello there, Winnie,’ said Mavis. She was a woman of Winifred’s own age and they had joined the group at more or less the same time. Mavis, though, had always been more interested in the production side of things rather than taking much part in the acting. She was wardrobe mistress and was in charge of the props, and with her brisk efficiency she was an invaluable member of the society.

  ‘This is my brother,’ she went on. ‘I think I told you, didn’t I, that he was coming to live in Blackpool? Well, it happened all of a sudden in the end, and here he is! Jeff, this is Winifred Leigh, a very good friend of mine … and one of our leading ladies,’ she added with a nod of approval at her friend. ‘Winnie, this is Jeffrey Bancroft, usually known as Jeff.’

  The two of them shook hands, murmuring the conventional ‘How do you do?’. Winifred found herself looking into – and almost mesmerised by – a pair of shrewd grey eyes that seemed to be regarding her with more than the ordinary interest afforded to a stranger that one had only just met. He was not tall, little more than average height, like herself, with hair that she guessed had once been fairish, but was now a greyish blonde, still thick and with the natural waves that many straight-haired women would envy. He smiled at her in a friendly, but by no means a familiar, manner.

  ‘Have you come to join us?’ she asked. ‘Are we about to welcome a new member?’

  ‘I hope so,’ he replied. ‘But I’ve just come along to watch tonight.’

  ‘And to see if you like us?’ Winifred enquired.

  ‘Oh, I’m quite sure I shall do that,’ he smiled. ‘I was a member of a drama group several years ago, but I haven’t done much acting just lately. I will be quite content for the moment to act as an ASM if you need one.’

  ‘We certainly do, don’t we, Winnie?’ replied his sister. ‘Our stage manager, Wilfred, is very good, but he’s past retiring age now and he’s always glad of extra help. Anyway, come along, Jeff, and I’ll introduce you to some of the members.’