Reaching the gate of the house in Avenue Road, Molly waited for a moment to take a deep breath and gather her thoughts. George patted her hand to show his support. ‘Come on, Molly – they can’t hurt you. I won’t let them.’
Molly smiled at George. ‘Let’s get it over with, shall we?’
They entered the silent house and had walked the length of the hallway before they heard Harriet’s voice from the front room. ‘So you’ve come home at last, have you?’
‘Hello, Harriet. Have you met George Jones? George was a good friend of my dad’s. It’s his wife, Kath, who has been poorly.’
George stepped forward to shake hands with Harriet, who just nodded in his direction. ‘As I told you when we met recently at Missons, Norman and I were partners in the shop. Meself and the wife have known young Molly since the day she was born. She’s a good kid. I don’t know what I’d have done without her while Kath’s been so poorly.’
Harriet nodded, her beady eyes moving between the elderly man and the young woman beside him. George sat down, trying to act as casual as was possible under the circumstances.
‘Tell me, Mr Jones, why is your name not on the shop alongside my late cousin-in-law’s? To me, that seems strange if, as you told me previously, you were business partners.’
Molly held her breath. She would have loved to have told the woman to mind her own business, but they needed to stay calm and keep their wits about them.
‘The shop isn’t named after Norman. The simple truth is that we decided to name it after young Molly here, but we couldn’t really call an ironmonger’s business “Molly’s”, could we?’ He laughed as he said it, but his joke fell on stony ground. ‘Me and the missus were never blessed with children. It just wasn’t meant to be. Molly will inherit the shop from me. It’s what we agreed and what is in my will.’
Harriet’s jaw dropped. She stayed silent while Molly tried not to smile. George was a gem!
‘Anyway, no more of this morbid talk. We just called by to let you know that Molly will be going away for a few weeks and we need to collect some of her things.’
Molly couldn’t believe that George was telling Harriet that she was leaving Erith. She felt as though she was watching her life collapse as Harriet discovered her plans for the summer.
Harriet rose from her chair. ‘I’m making tea. Would you both care for a cup?’
‘Not for us, love. We ought to get Molly’s things and make a move. I need to get up into the loft as well and find her suitcase. We don’t like to leave my wife alone for too long. She’s still not a hundred per cent fit.’
Harriet turned at the doorway. ‘I could have sworn I spotted her in the High Street last week,’ she said, a frown appearing on her forehead.
‘She has good days and bad days,’ George explained casually. ‘In fact, that is why we need Molly’s suitcase. Our doctor has advised a few weeks by the sea for the invalid, and as I can’t leave the shop, it stands to reason that Molly will travel with her. We have relatives down in Cornwall they will be staying with.’
Molly sighed. Yet another of George’s plans. She wished he would let her know when he was about to announce something so she could paint the right expression on her face.
‘To be honest, Molly, I was hoping you would return home before too long. This is a large house and I’m not able to keep on top of the housework. Your contribution to the weekly housekeeping would be welcome as well,’ Harriet said without a glimmer of sympathy for George’s words.
Molly couldn’t think what to say as Harriet’s eyes bore into her.
Thankfully, George came to the rescue. ‘Once my Kath is on her feet and completely fit, I’m sure Molly will be back with you. Could your son not help out until then?’
‘My son is a businessman, not a skivvy, Mr Jones. Besides, it would not look right if his lady friend saw him doing household chores,’ Harriet said with a sniff before heading to the kitchen.
‘Lady friend, eh?’ George said to Molly as they made their way upstairs. ‘It looks as though things have been progressing at a fair speed down at the Prince of Wales. I did hear that particular barmaid’s not one to let the grass grow under her feet.’
‘George, shh,’ Molly scolded. ‘Harriet might hear you.’
‘People what listen at keyholes don’t ever hear good of themselves,’ George pointed out. ‘Now, how do I get into the loft?’
Molly pointed up the staircase to the entrance in the ceiling close to her bedroom door. ‘You are going to need a stepladder. There should be one in the garden shed.’
George nodded. ‘You get started finding what you need. Don’t worry if it takes two trips – we can always store things in our house. I’d feel happier knowing your possessions are being looked after. I don’t trust those two not to dispose of your property.’
Molly watched George head back down the stairs before going to her parents’ bedroom. She noticed Harriet had made herself at home very quickly; she went through the drawers in the dressing table to check if there was anything remaining that belonged to her mum before Harriet beat her to it. Taking a pillowcase from the airing cupboard, she carefully added a few items of make-up and several bottles of perfume. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel her mum nearby as the light fragrances reached her nostrils. Molly gave herself a mental shake. She didn’t have time to reminisce. Harriet could appear at any time.
Opening the wardrobe, she was surprised to see all her mother’s clothes had been removed, apart from her favourite fur coat as well as a fur stole and deep-green crushed-velvet evening dress Charlotte had purchased but not had chance to wear before the accident. What had Harriet done with the other clothing, and why had she kept these items? Molly pulled them from the hangers, and tucking them under her arm, she went to her own room. Opening the door, she saw all her mother’s clothing heaped on the bed. Harriet must have removed everything from the bedroom and just kept back a few choice items for her own use. Molly felt fury boiling up inside her. She wanted to confront the woman and ask why she’d not waited for her to return before touching her mother’s possessions.
Molly froze as she heard Harriet call from the bottom of the stairs in a syrupy-sweet voice, ‘Molly, dear . . .’
She went to the top of the stairs. Why was Harriet talking like that? ‘Yes, Harriet. What can I do for you?’ It took great effort for Molly not to snarl at her cousin.
‘You may notice that I’ve moved a few of your mother’s items to your bedroom. Simon’s young lady is interested in taking them off your hands. She will be round later to collect them.’
Molly dared not reply. She had never felt such anger. She was sure that if she’d arrived later that day, Simon’s girlfriend from the pub would have waltzed off with her mum’s clothes and Molly would not have been consulted. But what was she to do with them? Whatever happened, she was the one to decide how to dispose of her mum’s belongings.
She cleared a small space on the bed and sat down to think.
George appeared minutes later a little red in the face. ‘I’ve got the stepladder. I’ll pop up into the loft and find the suitcase . . . You’re not taking all that, are you?’ he said, peering at the pile of clothing.
‘This is all of Mum’s possessions. That awful woman is giving them to that strumpet down the pub now she’s got her claws into Simon.’
George tried not to smile. He was sure Molly had never met a strumpet in her life, let alone knew what one was. However, he felt sorry for the girl. Now wasn’t the time to tell her that a few clothes weren’t important. She needed to learn that for herself. Her memories were in her head, not in a wardrobe. He walked to the small window and looked out for a few moments. ‘I have an idea that just might work. While I climb up into the loft and find a suitcase, I want you to fold up all those clothes and anything else you want to take with you and put them on the floor.’
Molly nodded. She had no idea what George was up to, but she’d do as she was told. She had complete faith
in whatever he suggested. She got straight to work as he disappeared into the loft.
While Molly folded the garments, she gazed around the room. What else should she take? Mementos of her parents were of paramount importance. She would need her summer dresses, and most definitely shoes for dancing if she were to work in the ballroom of the holiday camp. She was still contemplating what to take with her when George reappeared, huffing and puffing as he manoeuvred his way out of the loft hatch, pulling a large suitcase behind him. Molly dashed forward to help him.
‘I’ve seen some other cases up there. This was the largest. I suggest we take most of them and pack as much as we can.’
‘Won’t Harriet think it strange if I take more than one?’
‘If she asks, I’ll say we lost ours in an air raid and haven’t yet had a reason to replace them.’
‘Honestly, George, I’m getting worried about all these stories you’re making up. Does Kath know you do this?’
George chuckled. ‘Chance would be a fine thing. Kath can read me like a book. I think she’d agree with what we are about to do,’ he said as he blew dust from the case, opened the lid and lay it on the floor.
Molly was puzzled. ‘I don’t understand, George. Surely we are just going to pack a case or two?’
George ignored Molly’s question and pulled back the heavy pink eiderdown, followed by a layer of blankets. Tugging the sheets from the bed, he threw them onto the floor, then remade the bed.
‘George, I don’t think Kath is short of bed sheets,’ Molly said with a baffled expression. She’d seen the woman’s well-stocked airing cupboard when helping out with the washing and ironing. ‘Whatever are you doing?’
‘Watch and see.’ He smiled, his face now a deep shade of pink, perspiration appearing on his brow.
He spread one of the sheets on the bed and started to pile Charlotte Missons’s neatly folded clothes in the middle, adding the clothes that Molly had taken from her chest of drawers. ‘Do you happen to have a strong belt or perhaps a length of rope?’
Now even more puzzled and wondering what George was up to, she went to the chest of drawers. Pulling out a well-polished leather belt that used to be part of her Tawny Owl uniform, she handed it to George. ‘I still don’t understand what you are doing.’
He pulled the sides of the sheet together into a large, bulky parcel and secured it with the belt, tugging it a few times to test it wouldn’t slip. Carrying the bundle to the window, he checked it wasn’t too large to be passed through the gap. Nodding his head with a satisfied smile on his face, he went back to the second sheet and proceeded to do the same. ‘I need another belt. Do you have one?’
Still unsure of George’s motives, she took another belt from a gabardine mac hanging in her wardrobe and he secured the second bundle and again checked it wouldn’t fall open when tugged. ‘Now, I’m going back up in that loft to get the other cases. You start packing your bits and pieces in that case.’
‘But what about my clothes? I wanted to take some of those with me,’ Molly said, looking at the two large bundles in front of the bedroom window. They resembled the bundles that were collected by the bag-wash man on laundry day.
George simply winked and climbed the ladder.
Molly sighed and started to pack her possessions into the case. She wrapped the more delicate items in her underwear and covered them with a couple of thick cardigans so they wouldn’t be damaged or make a noise when carried. She pulled open drawers and even checked under the bed in case she had missed something.
A cough from the doorway made her look up with a start. Simon was stood there, his tie askew, buttons undone on his shirt, and was that a lipstick mark on his cheek? Molly looked at the distance between them. Without thinking twice, she dashed forward and grabbed for the door handle, intent on slamming the door in his face. However, she was a second too slow, for Simon put his hand out and stopped the door from closing.
‘What do you want, Simon?’ she asked loudly, hoping that George would hear from where he was in the loft. Although she didn’t want to be within arm’s reach of her cousin, she also didn’t want him to spot the two large bundles on the floor. He was bound to ask some uncomfortable questions. Even though she wasn’t sure what George was going to do with the clothing, she knew he was thinking of her.
‘I’ve come to see you, little cousin,’ he smirked. ‘You know what they say – absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ He reached out and grabbed her blouse, pulling her forward so she couldn’t escape.
Knowing George was nearby made Molly feel brave. She didn’t dare think what would have happened if she’d been alone with the brute.
Simon’s mouth sought hers. She felt her stomach lurch as a strong taste of whisky and cigarettes overcame her. Glancing up, she saw George, his face red with anger, looking down on them from the stepladder. In his hand he held a smaller version of the suitcase that Molly had just finished packing. He threw it down towards Simon, while Molly pushed with all her strength. The case hit her cousin fair and square on the head.
Simon blinked for a moment, unsure of what had happened, before swaying and stumbling on the top step of the steep staircase. Molly watched in horror as Simon’s body seemed to crumple and fold as he fell down the first few steps. In his drunken state, Simon couldn’t break his fall. Had they killed him? No – he lay there stunned and groaning but conscious.
‘What is all the noise?’ Harriet called out from the front room.
Molly looked up to where George was waving at her to go back into the bedroom and pull the door to. She did as she was told before Harriet could spot her. Composing herself, she stood behind the door until she heard George clamber down the stepladder. She then opened the bedroom door.
‘Whatever is the commotion?’ George asked in all innocence as he placed another case by the one that had hit Simon.
Harriet shrieked as she spotted her son. ‘Help, Molly . . . Mr Jones . . . My son has collapsed.’
George went down to where Simon was lying. ‘Come on, lad. It looks as though you’ve had one too many. Let’s get you downstairs and sobered up, shall we?’ Looking down to Harriet’s horrified face, he said, ‘Time to put the kettle on, love.’
Molly watched as George heaved Simon into the front room and then returned to her bedroom, where she began quickly stuffing her belongings into the two new cases. George joined her as she tried to lift the largest case to carry it downstairs.
‘Leave that for a moment.’ He opened the bedroom window and took the first of the two bundles of clothing. He swung the bundle by the belt and let it drop to the ground below. The second bundle followed soon after. Closing the window and picking up the suitcases, he grinned at Molly. ‘Got everything?’
Molly nodded. ‘How are we going to carry the bundles of clothing?’
‘Don’t worry – they’re safe for a while in the side alleyway. I’ll get Ted Sayers to give me a lift to collect them when I see him at the New Light for our darts match. Let’s just get you home before Kath starts to worry.’
7
‘Don’t look so frightened. Come in and take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.’
Molly recognized Connie Sinclair from her interview in London. As she placed her suitcase down and sat in the proffered chair, she hoped this meeting would be more pleasant than the encounters she’d had with Johnny Johnson, the other Butlins officer. Life was going to be a barrel of laughs if he remained as miserable and cynical as he had an hour ago, when she’d seen him at the Butlins gatehouse. After all, it wasn’t her fault his girlfriend had tripped over her suitcase, or that the cabbie had splashed his other lady friend with mud outside the Victoria Palace Theatre the other day. Come to that, it hadn’t been her fault that someone nudged that cup of tea from her hand that ended up drenching the wretched man. She felt a giggle coming on as she decided that perhaps she was responsible for trampling on his feet when he asked her to dance. The giggle vanished immediately, to be replaced by a scowl.
He was such an arrogant man. Would she be able to work within a hundred yards of Johnny Johnson without something awful happening? Her days at Butlins would be numbered if that dreadful man kept coming near her.
Connie Sinclair looked up from her paperwork and frowned. ‘Are you feeling unwell, Molly?’
‘I’m fine, Miss Sinclair. Just a little tired after my long journey,’ she replied, realizing her thoughts must have shown on her face.
Pull yourself together or they will think you’re mad, she scolded herself.
Connie placed her paperwork into a file and pushed it to one side of her desk. She smiled at Molly. ‘This must seem so strange after your previous job in’ – Connie checked a sheet of paper in front of her – ‘Erith. Why, that’s in Kent and not far from my home town of Bromley.’ She glanced over the sheet of paper, her expression softening. ‘I see you’ve recently lost your parents.’
Molly nodded, willing herself not to cry. She had thought that now she was away from home, no one would comment on her recent loss. ‘Yes, it was rather a shock, but coming to Butlins will help me to move on with my life. I promise I won’t be miserable and depress the holidaymakers,’ she added as an afterthought, just in case Miss Sinclair considered her a liability to the company.
‘I’m sure you won’t. We pride ourselves on our choice of staff. In fact, I feel that you will have great empathy with those campers who have lost family members in the war. Now,’ she said, clapping her hands together, ‘I have an hour to spare, so I’ll give you a quick tour of the camp and take you to the stores to collect your uniform. You can leave your suitcase in reception for now.’
Molly followed Connie out into the large reception area. She tried to imagine it packed with excited holidaymakers collecting the keys to their chalets and anticipating the joys of a week of holiday fun. She noticed a small group of women and two young men standing nervously by their suitcases.
The Butlins Girls Page 8