The Butlins Girls

by Elaine Everest

  ‘I’ve been up to see to the grave. The cemetery is awash with colour. There are so many beautiful flowers blooming at the moment. The roses from you look a treat. I hope you don’t mind, love, but I wrote a little card to say happy birthday to your mum. It sounds daft to say it, but I’m sure Charlotte’s looking down and smiling on us all, as I’m sure Norman is as well.’

  ‘I hope so, Kath. Thank you again for looking after the grave. As soon as I’m home I’ll pay a visit and let them both know how I’m doing.’

  There was a silence as both women thought of Charlotte Missons.

  ‘Hark at me going all quiet on you when you rang to speak to our George. I’ll give him a shout. He was standing here just now. I’ll just put the phone down for a minute . . .’

  Molly could hear Kath calling George and then a quick exchange of words as she scolded him for walking away from the phone. She smiled to herself. Nothing seemed to change back home. Thank goodness her dad had installed a telephone at the ironmonger’s. She only needed to walk to a telephone box to be able to ring her friends in Erith. Not that she wanted to disturb them or make it look as though she missed them, and her home town, as much as she did. Plum and Bunty were good company, and she was growing to love the loud brashness that was Butlins, but all the same, there was no place like home.

  ‘Hello, my love. How’s it going with you? Breaking the hearts of all those campers, are you?’

  Molly felt a lump form in her throat as she heard George’s gruff voice. She laughed at his words, although she could have cried. She couldn’t wait for the day she saw the elderly couple again. ‘Things are going well and I’ve yet to break one heart. It’s only you I love. Now, how are you, and what’s been happening while I’ve been learning the art of bingo numbers and rules about fancy-dress competitions?’

  George started to talk about stock lists and sales figures until Molly’s head was in a spin. Inserting a few more coins, Molly listened to the mechanism churn away for a few seconds before giving her more time to talk to her friend. ‘George, I didn’t telephone you to ask about the shop. I know it’s thriving in your hands. As long as you can take a wage each week and aren’t going without, I’m happy.’

  ‘Then stay happy. We are busy most days, and the new lad is coming along a treat. So much so that me and Kath are going to be coming to Butlins at the end of July for a week just to see what your holiday camp is all about. Kath is that excited she took her bathing suit out of mothballs and is at her Singer sewing machine most nights making dresses and the like.’

  Molly squealed with delight. ‘That’s next month! I’m so happy you are taking a holiday and I’ll get to see you for a whole week.’ She fell silent for a moment. ‘What about the shop?’ she asked, then felt guilty for asking the question.

  ‘That’s what I said to Kath when she told me we were off on our holidays. Then she pointed out that Ted Parker’s son, Dave, was demobbed last month and had more time on his hands than he knew what to do with and would be perfect to run the shop. So it’s all arranged. I was thinking we might even consider taking on Dave after our holiday. Perhaps part-time to begin with until we know when you’ll be returning home,’ he added as an afterthought.

  ‘Don’t give a thought to me, George. I’d rather Dave Parker had a job to go to each day. It’s only right after he served his country and was injured into the bargain. I can always find work. You know I wasn’t meant to see out my days at Missons. Mum and Dad both wanted me to consider my future and not cling to the shop. I might even get a job at Woolworths and work with Freda.’

  George gave a roar of laughter that vibrated down the phone line. ‘I’d eat my hat if you ended up working at Woolies. I couldn’t see you obeying orders and jumping to attention every time one of those bells rang.’

  ‘It’s not much different at Butlins, George. Just you wait until you get here and Radio Butlins is blaring out news dawn to dusk. Now, tell me, is Mr Denton back in his office yet?’ She crossed her fingers, silently praying that George would say yes.

  ‘I stuck my head over there the other day. There was only the young chap in there. He reckoned the last he heard, it could be another month before the old boy’s back in town. Looking at the office, I don’t think he’ll have a business to come home to. I said to Kath I couldn’t see why someone who was a solicitor would leave that young chap in sole charge of the office. He doesn’t know one end of a pencil from the other. It’s a queer business.’

  ‘He’s family, George. Mr Denton probably trusts him.’

  ‘You’ve hit the nail on the head there, love. My Kath nigh on said the same as you. I just wish the old bloke would pull his finger out and get home to his business. But then I’m just selfish. He no doubt has reasons for being away for so long.’

  ‘I do hope he has some news once he returns to Erith. Even if it’s not what I want to hear, we can get on with our lives. I can’t bear the thought of Harriet and Simon living in Avenue Road, though.’

  ‘What will be will be, Molly. Now, I have Freda here jumping up and down to talk to you. I’ll say bye-bye for now and see you next month. Take care of yourself, love . . .’

  Molly could hear the catch in George’s voice. She missed him so much.

  ‘Hello, Molly. Have you still got time to talk? Do you have enough money for the call? I have lots to tell you.’

  ‘Hello, Freda. It’s my day off, so I’ve all the time in the world to chat.’ She looked at the pile of pennies by the telephone, which was fast diminishing. ‘I have enough coins to talk for a while yet.’ Molly did wonder what Freda had to tell her, as she’d only received her weekly letter the day before and that was packed full of news about their friends and Freda’s work. She pushed a couple more pennies into the slot and the mechanism clunked as it swallowed her money. ‘Talk away. I’ve fed the telephone. What’s happened since your last letter?’

  Freda took a big breath. ‘You know I wrote about one of my Woolies colleagues getting engaged? Well, I was invited to her party at the Prince of Wales and guess who I bumped into.’

  Molly didn’t need to guess. ‘Cousin Simon.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You were careful, Freda? Was he drunk?’ Molly asked, worried for her friend.

  ‘When isn’t he the worse for wear? I spotted him by the public bar, but as we were in the hall at the back of the pub, I thought he’d not see me. Unfortunately, he was outside when I left. He asked about you.’

  ‘Oh my gosh. Whatever did you say?’ Molly didn’t want her violent cousin hurting her best friend. She shuddered as she thought of his clammy hands on her body. ‘He didn’t try to touch you, did he?’

  ‘No. I was with my landlady, Ruby, and her granddaughter, Sarah. They’d been to the party as well. All Woolworths girls together.’ She laughed. ‘We’d decided to get a bag of chips before heading home and he was there, watching me. I think it took a while for him to work out where he’d met me.’

  Molly shuddered. ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘He asked if you were at the party. I replied that you weren’t likely to be, as not only did you not work at Woolies but were still away from home. Fortunately, I’d told Ruby and Sarah about the situation. You don’t mind, do you? I think Ruby would have floored him with her handbag if he’d been nasty.’

  ‘No, I don’t mind Ruby and your friends knowing about my problem with Harriet and Simon. They were good to me when Mum and Dad had their accident.’ Molly had also heard how Ruby helped catch a criminal when he broke into her home during the war. The old lady was a good person to have on her side in a battle, she thought with a smile. ‘Did Simon say anything else?’

  Freda fell silent, but Molly could hear her take a deep breath. ‘Yes, he did. He came up close to me and said he knew something was going on as he’d seen Kath walking through town the other day and she didn’t look ill, and that if Kath was home, you would be too.’

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ Molly gasped. She knew how intimidating her cousin
could be when up close. She could almost smell the whisky and stale cigarettes on his breath. It wasn’t fair that her friend should be dragged into her problems.

  ‘Don’t worry, Molly – Ruby pushed him away and told him not to be daft and that of course Kath would be home for her own husband’s birthday, whereas you were invited to stay a little longer in Cornwall and who could afford to turn that down? Then she gave him one of her looks and asked him how Kath should appear when she had “women’s problems”. His face was a picture.’

  ‘Bless her,’ Molly said. ‘I’d love to have seen his face when he heard that.’

  ‘It was worth seeing,’ Freda said. ‘However, he made a parting shot as he staggered up the road. He said that if I was to get in touch, I was to tell you that you’d never win. Isn’t that creepy?’

  Molly felt her stomach churn. She’d had a good breakfast at the camp of scrambled eggs, tomatoes and toast, so it wasn’t hunger but fear. Pulling herself together, she replied, ‘Let’s just assume from his words that whatever he and Harriet are up to, it isn’t entirely honest. When Mr Denton gets back to Erith, then I’m sure that all will be settled satisfactorily,’ she assured Freda.

  ‘I have some other news,’ Freda added.

  ‘I hope it’s better news than what you’ve just told me.’ Molly laughed.

  ‘It is. I’m going on holiday. I’m so excited.’

  Molly felt instantly saddened. She was happy for her hard-working friend, but they’d always planned to go away together. Although Butlins was a holiday camp, it was still her job and she’d have loved to spend a week with her chum. ‘I’m pleased for you,’ she said, trying to keep her voice upbeat. ‘Are you going with the girls from Woolies?’

  ‘No, you ninny. I’m coming to see you at Butlins along with Kath and George.’

  Both girls shrieked with excitement. It was the best news Molly had heard in a long time. They chatted for a while, until the pips announced that Molly’s coins were about to run out.

  ‘Don’t feed the phone with any more money,’ Freda said. ‘Perhaps we could speak next week, and I’ll write as usual. Take care, Molly, and don’t be too sad today. We are all thinking of you.’

  Molly scooped the remaining pennies into her purse and pushed button ‘B’ to check there weren’t coins to be returned to her before stepping from the telephone box. It was stifling in the confined space, and try as she might to lean against the door to let in a little air, it had proved fruitless. The June day was going to be warm. It was only just past ten o’clock and already she could feel the sun on her face from the open fields on one side of the lane. Molly kept in the shade as much as possible as she headed back towards the holiday camp.

  With a day free to do as she pleased, Molly’s mind wandered back to a year ago, when she had helped celebrate her mum’s birthday – breakfast served in bed by a dutiful daughter, and then Charlotte and Molly had caught the train for the short journey to the nearby market town of Dartford, where they’d wandered from shop to shop before stopping for a leisurely lunch. Norman Missons had told them to be ready at four in the afternoon as he had tickets to take them both to London to see a show. Molly could still see her mum’s face when she realized they had tickets for Irene at His Majesty’s Theatre. Charlotte had so enjoyed the film version of the musical and had seen it three times at the cinema a few years earlier. Charlotte had hugged Norman for joy as they’d stood in front of the theatre and he’d handed his wife tickets for the stalls. For days after Charlotte could be heard singing the song ‘Alice Blue Gown’ as she’d gone about her housework and thought she couldn’t be heard.

  If only she’d known it would be the last birthday her mum would celebrate, things would have been so different. She scolded herself for her selfish thoughts. Who knew what the future held? They’d celebrated victory in Europe only months before and everyone was preparing to face life anew after six years of war.

  As Molly neared the holiday camp, she heard the excited shouts of campers around the swimming pool and the sound of Radio Butlins reminding people to attend that day’s sports activities. It wasn’t a day to be around people. She didn’t feel she’d make good company and wished to be alone thinking of her parents on her mum’s birthday. Next year would be different. Although no doubt she would always grieve for her parents, who had been taken too soon, she would at least have come to terms with what had happened and her wounds would not be so raw.

  Heading to the chalet she shared with Bunty and Plum, Molly decided to change out of her slacks and into a pretty cotton sundress and take a walk along the shoreline. Kicking off her white pumps, Molly heard one thud against the suitcase stored under her bed. It reminded her that her mum’s small attaché case was stored inside the larger case. Today would be the perfect time to sift through the photographs and reminisce of happier times. Placing the small leather case onto her bed, she flicked back two small brass catches and tipped the contents onto the candlewick bedcover. She smiled at the few blurred pictures of her as a child and another of her parents on their wedding day, similar to the one in a frame that had stood on the hall stand before being damaged when Simon attacked her. Flicking through yellowing cuttings, she saw several news items from the Erith Observer from years gone by when her dad had won a darts tournament and done well in a cricket match for a local team. Charlotte had also kept past advertisements for Missons Ironmonger’s January sales, and even a birth announcement she and Norman had placed in the popular local paper when Molly was born. It was then that Molly came across a bundle of papers. Impatiently picking at the knot in the faded red ribbon, she hoped that perhaps there was a copy of her dad’s latest will. It would solve all her problems, or at least tell her if Harriet was in fact the true owner of the house in Avenue Road and possibly the family business. If that were the case, her life would change forever.

  Molly was just about to start reading the papers when the door to the chalet burst open and Plum rushed in. ‘Where’s Bunty? I’ve received a missive from Aunt Gertie.’

  Molly frowned. She’d been so deep in thought as she looked through her mum’s possessions she’d forgotten for a moment their plan for Gordon to keep in touch with Bunty. It had been some weeks since Gordon had left in a hurry after the girls realized journalist Charlie Porter was snooping about after a news story.

  ‘My goodness, it actually worked,’ Molly said. ‘Let me take a look.’ She took the proffered page from Plum, sniffing the note before reading. ‘He’s really playing the part, but the perfume’s a little on the whiffy side. I take it this means he has located the real murderer and is in hot pursuit?’

  ‘Well, it means he has arrived in his home town and has an idea where Richard is living. I’m not so sure he is in hot pursuit, as you put it. Have you been watching Clive Danvers movies again?’

  Molly felt embarrassed; she’d commented earlier that Plum’s plan was like something from one of her favourite B-movies. ‘I believe Bunty is supervising the children’s playground this morning.’ She checked her wristwatch. ‘Yes, she should still be there. I reckon she will be over the moon to know that Gordon’s been in touch.’

  Charlie Porter had been placated with the information Bunty had given him about her life since leaving prison and her insistence that Gordon was innocent. However, he was sworn to secrecy, otherwise he would be given no more information. The man had a nose for a good news story and knew better than to cross the three girls at this time. Molly did wonder how long he’d be prepared to wait for his scoop, though.

  Plum turned to leave the chalet but noticed the papers and photographs on Molly’s bed. ‘Feeling homesick?’ she asked, nodding to the photos on top of the pile.

  ‘A little. It would have been Mum’s birthday today. I was just taking a look at some things of hers that Freda put in my case. I’ve not seen these before.’

  ‘Me and my big mouth,’ Plum said, rushing over to give Molly a hug. ‘Look, don’t stay cooped up in here. It’s a lovely day. Get yoursel
f out in the fresh air and let the sun warm your bones. You can still think about your family. It’ll do you good. I can get someone to cover me so I can join you, if you like. I’m only on duty this morning. I was going home this afternoon but can put it on hold if you would like some company.’

  ‘Thank you, Plum, but I don’t want you to miss seeing Lizzie. I appreciate your offer, but I’ll be fine. It means a lot to me that you and Bunty are my friends. Bunty and I have so many problems. I’m sorry you got stuck in this chalet with us,’ Molly said as Plum stopped hugging her.

  ‘Lovey, open any door in this holiday camp and you’ll find people with problems. No one has a perfect life.’ A shadow had crossed her face. ‘Now, are you taking yourself off out of here, or do I have to drag you by the hair?’

  ‘I thought I’d get changed and take a walk along the beach as it’s so nice,’ Molly replied, looking at Plum’s face. Was Plum hinting she had problems herself, or was Molly imagining things?

  Plum opened the door to the chalet, her face once again wearing its usual smile. ‘You do that. I’ll see you later this evening.’ She gave Molly a big wink and left.

  Molly changed her clothes and started to pack her mum’s things back into the attaché case. She stopped for a moment and pulled out the papers that had been held together by the red ribbon, then placed them carefully in her handbag. She would sit on the beach and read through the documents. Out in the sunshine, life would feel more positive than here in the little wooden chalet.

  Molly walked at a slow pace for almost an hour, stopping to dip her toes into the waves as they lapped at the sandy beach. She found a spot where she was alone apart from a few seagulls swooping overhead. It was the perfect place to rest and read the papers she’d placed in her handbag. Settling herself on the soft sand, she opened her bag and took a deep breath. Praying that what she held in her hand could solve her problems, she started to read. The first documents were birth certificates – her own, followed by her mum and dad’s. Eager to move on to something that might be more important, she reached for a large, flat, sun-bleached stone to weigh down the documents. Some words on her mum’s certificate caught her eye and she picked up the faded paper to read them. Charlotte’s father, Harold Kenyon, and his wife, Molly, were, or had been, farmers at the time of Charlotte’s birth and lived in a place called Spilsby. Molly felt a tingle of excitement spread through her body. It wasn’t the sunny day that did it but the thought she had a link to a family she’d never known existed. Whatever had happened for her parents to leave their home town and head to Erith?