Time stood still. For a few seconds they looked at each other, until the door to the chapel creaked open, releasing them both from the magical moment. An elderly couple entered, apologizing for interrupting the redcoats. Johnny helped Molly to her feet and assured them they had not interrupted anything important. The look he gave Molly as they left the little chapel and stepped out into the mid-morning sun showed he thought otherwise.
‘I accept,’ Molly said after a few moments of awkward silence.
‘Accept what?’ Johnny looked confused.
‘Your offer to help me . . . That’s if there is still an offer. Although I’m not sure how you can . . .’
Johnny grinned, looking down at Molly’s eager face. ‘Right. I’ll meet you in the coffee bar in half an hour. Get yourself organized and make sure you have all that paperwork with you, as we’ll need it.’
Molly nodded and set off for her chalet. There was just time to wash her face and do her make-up before meeting Johnny. He was a decent sort. She felt more relaxed than she had since opening the envelope on the beach, and thanked God Johnny had walked into the chapel and discovered her in distress.
‘Finish your coffee and we can be on our way. My car is parked by the gatehouse,’ Johnny instructed Molly. He’d changed out of his Butlins uniform into grey slacks and a white open-necked shirt. They looked like any other holidaymaker sitting in the popular cafe.
Johnny placed his hand on Molly’s back as he guided her through the campers; some stopped them to ask questions about the events being held that day in the camp. They both answered politely, although Molly was eager to know where Johnny was taking her.
They’d just reached the door when they heard someone call out Johnny’s name and Gloria caught up with them. ‘Johnny, I need to speak with you about the London trip. You will excuse us, Molly,’ she added, bestowing her with a brittle stare.
‘It will have to wait, Gloria,’ Johnny replied to the Butlins receptionist as he continued to walk away. ‘Molly and I have an appointment’ – he checked his watch – ‘and we will be late if we don’t hurry.’
‘As you wish, Johnny,’ Gloria answered with a sideways glance at Molly. ‘I’ll see you this evening.’
Johnny did not answer as the couple headed towards the gatehouse and his car.
‘Will you tell me where we’re heading?’ Molly asked as Johnny drove out of the camp and headed down the leafy lane past the telephone box where she’d made her call only a few hours before. It seemed a lifetime ago.
‘Be patient,’ he said, not taking his eyes from the road. ‘We will be there in less than an hour.’
Molly leaned back in the comfortable leather seat and slowly closed her eyes. The warmth of the sun on her face through the windscreen made her feel sleepy. It was good to just relax and do nothing after the surprises she’d uncovered today. Hopefully, whatever Johnny had planned would not be too much of a shock.
‘Wake up, sleepyhead – we’re here,’ Johnny said as he opened the car door and gently shook her shoulder.
‘Oh my goodness, I must have fallen asleep. I’m so embarrassed . . . I do apologize. Whatever must you think of me? I hope I didn’t snore.’
‘I thought you looked beautiful while you slept, although I’m too much of a gentleman to say if you snored or not.’
Molly felt her cheeks glow just imagining Johnny watching her as she dozed. She tried to ignore the look he gave her and ran her fingers through her hair. ‘I feel a mess.’
‘You look lovely. Now, come with me. I may have some interesting information for you.’
Molly looked around her. Johnny had parked the car close to a large, imposing church. ‘Where are we?’
‘This is Spilsby, and we are about to meet the vicar of St James’s Church,’ he explained, leading her towards the building.
‘Spilsby? But that’s—’
‘Yes, it’s mentioned on the certificates you found in your envelope,’ Johnny said as a tall man bounded from the side of the church dressed in long black robes. ‘I know this area, and also a man who may be able to help. Here he is.’
The vicar took Johnny’s hand and pumped it up and down enthusiastically. ‘Johnny, old chap, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Seems an age since you were at the airfield. Where have you been hiding yourself?’
‘Bertie, it’s good to see you. Thank you for seeing us at such short notice. I’d like you to meet Molly Missons. I mentioned her in my telephone call.’
Molly shook the vicar’s hand, rather bemused as she had no idea why they were visiting this man. He seemed to know Johnny well, as they chatted about people they knew in common, many of whom had RAF titles.
Bertie stopped talking to Johnny and apologized to Molly. ‘Excuse us, my dear. We don’t meet so often now the war is over and we’ve taken different paths in life.’
Molly frowned. ‘You were an actor?’ she asked.
Bertie roared with laughter. ‘If only I had such talents. A short shift as the back legs of a donkey is as far as my talent runs. No, I was referring to the days when we both flew up into the wide blue yonder,’ he quipped.
‘Molly doesn’t know of my time in the RAF,’ Johnny said with an apologetic look.
‘I thought you spent the war making films?’ she said.
Bertie, laughing once more, nudged Johnny in the ribs. ‘If only they knew the truth, old chap. Our Johnny here is a hero. Flew Spits, when he wasn’t seconded to help keep up the morale of the British public as a dashing hero.’
Molly looked at Johnny, who was showing some discomfort. ‘I never knew you were a hero in real life as well,’ she murmured. ‘You are full of surprises.’
‘Enough about me. Bertie, did you manage to lay your hands on what I spoke about?’
‘Indeed I did. It may not be what you expected, but I hope it will help.’ He handed over a scrap of paper to Johnny. ‘Now, would the pair of you care for a spot of lunch?’
‘That’s good of you, Bertie, but I’d like to check this out first. I’ll stand you dinner soon, I promise,’ Johnny said.
With much shaking of hands and slapping of backs, Bertie bade them both goodbye. Johnny led Molly back to his car and started the engine. Molly stayed silent. She had an idea that whatever lay at the end of their journey would answer some questions about her unknown family.
After a short drive, Johnny pulled up by a small cemetery and held the door open for Molly, who climbed out of the car and felt her legs wobble as she attempted to stand. ‘I didn’t expect to come to a cemetery,’ she said quietly.
‘Be brave,’ he said, taking her hand.
‘“Molly Charlotte Kenyon, devoted wife, mother and grandmother,”’ Molly read from a carved headstone. ‘This is my nan’s grave.’
‘Would you like me to leave you alone with your thoughts?’ Johnny asked.
‘No . . . Please stay. I don’t quite know how I feel. I know nothing of the person buried here.’ Apart from the letter she wrote to my mum, she thought. ‘My parents never spoke of their families. This is all alien to me. It could be anyone lying here. I don’t understand how she could be a devoted mother and grandmother when she never acknowledged my existence.’ She looked at Johnny with tears in her eyes. ‘Does that sound awfully bad of me?’
‘No, not at all. No one could ever say that,’ Johnny said, enveloping Molly in his arms and stroking her head as she shed silent tears. ‘It’s been a shock for you to go from discovering you have family to me bringing you here all within a few hours. Can you forgive me?’
Molly looked up to his concerned face, her lips still trembling. ‘I can forgive you anything.’
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her gently at first until they were both consumed by the intensity of their passion. Johnny pulled away. ‘I’m sorry. I should know better than to take advantage while you are distressed.’
‘Then I should also ask for forgiveness as I wanted the kiss to continue,’ she replied, surprised again that she was
able to speak to Johnny with such ease. She wondered if his leading ladies felt this way after just one kiss.
‘I think it’s time we had something to eat,’ Johnny said, trying hard to change the subject. ‘We passed a teashop a way back. Can I tempt you?’
‘Yes, please,’ Molly whispered as they both gazed into each other’s eyes, not wishing for the moment to stop. Something significant had passed between them. Molly was astonished by the feelings she experienced when she was in Johnny’s arms.
As they walked from the cemetery, Molly looked back to her nan’s grave and wondered what life would have been like if she’d known this woman.
15
Bunty jumped when Charlie sidled up to her as she sat by the children’s paddling pool, and almost dropped the glass of squash she was holding. Deep in thought, wondering what Gordon was doing and if he was any closer to proving that Richard had murdered Aileen, she had not seen the photographer approach. Bunty worried constantly that Gordon could be in peril while she was at Butlins enjoying herself, albeit also working hard.
‘Is there any news from the escaped prisoner?’ he asked as he lit the cigarette that dangled from his thin lips.
Bunty looked around her in case anyone had heard what he’d muttered none too quietly. Fortunately, it was noisy in the children’s play area and no one had noticed. Bunty felt so uncomfortable when the journalist, still posing as a camp photographer, appeared. Perhaps she was uneasy because he knew so much about her. Whatever the reason, she hoped that Gordon would soon be in touch with developments. There’d been several postcards to Plum from her ‘aunt Gertie’ with the cryptic comments that were part of Plum’s plan for Gordon to let Bunty know what was happening. She longed for the day when Gertie announced, ‘The eagle has landed,’ as then she would know that Richard was in the hands of the police and she would soon once more be in the arms of the man she loved.
‘I’ve not heard a word from Gordon, if that’s what you mean,’ Bunty said, her chin held high in defiance. ‘I promised I’d tell you when I’d received news. I’m not a person to go back on my word.’
Charlie spat a stray piece of tobacco from his mouth and sneered. ‘It’s not likely I’d take the word of a woman not long out of prison. Now, if it was that posh mate of yours, or her pretty friend, it’d be a different kettle of fish.’ His gaze took in the area around them, where mothers watched their children at play. ‘No sign of them today. When one of you appears, there’s usually another close behind. Like buses you are.’ He laughed at his feeble joke. ‘On your own today, I see.’
Bunty shuddered, wishing fervently that Molly and Plum were by her side. They could be relied on to put Charlie in his place. For once, both girls’ leave had fallen on the same day. Plum had gone home to see her daughter, and Molly had left a note to let Bunty know she wouldn’t be able to meet her for their afternoon break as she’d been taken out by Johnny Johnson and would tell her all about it later. It had been this delightful piece of information that Bunty had been pondering when Charlie had crept up and caught her by surprise.
She raised her chin and stared him in the face, something she’d been taught by her friends, who’d told her to be brave and unashamed of what had happened. ‘The girls are around and about. We are not joined at the hip. I’m not a liar, Mr Porter. I went to prison for telling the truth. When I hear something, you will be the first person I inform. That was our deal, was it not?’
Charlie eyed her thoughtfully for a couple of seconds before nodding. ‘Just make sure it is. My editor won’t wait forever for the story. He may just run it with what I’ve told him so far.’ A grin covered his face. ‘That alone would make for interesting reading. It might even give Butlins some publicity. At least then I’d be shot of the place. It’s far too happy here for my liking.’
A silence fell between them as Bunty contemplated his words. The last thing she wanted was for Butlins to be implicated in his tacky newspaper’s lies. She was sure as eggs were eggs that most of what he wrote would be fabricated. Bunty loved her job and had hoped that once Gordon received a pardon, they would continue to work for the holiday-camp company. Nearby, a child screamed out in pain as he fell to his knees.
‘I suggest you go and look after your charge and wipe away his tears, but think on. I want news . . . and soon.’
Bunty hurried to soothe the sobbing youngster. ‘Please, Gordon, send me news soon,’ she whispered to herself.
‘Would you like more tea, my loves?’
Johnny raised an eyebrow at Molly. ‘I know I’d enjoy another cup. How about you?’
‘Yes, please. That’s if you’re in no hurry to close,’ Molly added, noticing that it was close to four o’clock. They were the only remaining customers in the quaint little teashop.
‘It’s no trouble at all, my lovelies. Now, would you like another slice of my seed cake? It’s freshly made.’
‘That would be delightful, thank you,’ Johnny said, giving the woman one of his heart-melting smiles, which often had female campers almost swooning in delight.
‘I couldn’t eat another morsel,’ Molly said, rubbing her stomach. ‘Why, I’m fit to burst. I can’t remember the last time I ate so much, and that’s something, considering the food Butlins lays on for us.’
‘Oh, you’re staying at that Butlins. On your holidays, are you?’ the waitress asked with interest. ‘Never been there myself.’
‘No, we both work there. This is a rare day off for the pair of us,’ Johnny said as he passed an empty teapot to her. ‘I was based at the airfield for part of the war,’ he added quickly when the woman gave him a quizzical look.
‘I thought your face was familiar.’ She nodded thoughtfully. ‘I suppose you must have come in here occasionally. Yes, that must be it. I’ll go and fetch your tea.’
Molly giggled as the waitress disappeared through a door marked, ‘Staff only’. ‘I suppose you get a lot of that kind of thing. It must be a problem?’
A smile crossed Johnny’s face. ‘It can be at times . . . when I want to be alone, that is. At other times, I’m more than happy to play the man from the movies and answer questions. It’s all part of the job.’ He took Molly’s hand and lightly kissed her fingertips. ‘I’d rather be incognito right now and simply be a guy out with his girl.’
Molly felt a tremor of excitement course through her body. ‘Are you playing another role, Johnny?’
‘My acting days are over, Molly.’
She was lost for words. How many times had she wished to be in this situation? Sitting alone with the dashing actor as he spoke words of love was a dream come true. But now she knew the real man, rather than the matinee idol. The moment was lost, as the waitress bustled back into the room with a tray laid with fresh tea and clean cups. Molly snatched back her hand, not wanting the pleasant lady to assume they were a courting couple and ask embarrassing questions. She was unaware it was obvious to anyone close by that her cheeks were flushed pink, her eyes shone brightly and that she was a woman in love with the handsome man who gazed at her in adoration.
‘I wonder if I could ask you something,’ Molly said as the waitress placed their order on the table.
‘Ask away, my lovely. I’m always being asked directions.’ She hugged the empty tray to her ample bosom, waiting for Molly to speak.
‘We’ve been to visit my nan’s grave and I wondered . . . what with you being a local . . . if you knew of my family.’
The woman frowned. ‘Lost touch, did you, my love?’
‘You could say that . . .’ Molly didn’t want to tell the waitress she had never known her family.
‘Molly doesn’t come from around here. She lives down south,’ Johnny added helpfully, giving the waitress another of his smiles. ‘You know what it’s like what with the war and everything.’
If the women didn’t know ‘what it was like’, she never said, but took the seat that Johnny offered. ‘I’ll help if I can,’ she said.
‘I know very little apart f
rom their names and that they farmed around these parts when my mother was born. I believe they must have still lived locally, as my nan was buried nearby.’ She looked at the woman with hope in her eyes.
‘It would help if you gave me their names,’ the waitress suggested.
‘Oh, silly me.’ Molly laughed. ‘The surname is Kenyon, Harold and Molly Kenyon. Do you know the name?’ she asked hopefully.
The woman thought for a moment. ‘I went to school with a Sally Kenyon, but that’s a good few years ago now, so she’d most likely have married and be known by her husband’s name. Hang on a minute and I’ll ask my mum. She’s out the back washing up. She knows everything worth knowing around here.’ The waitress hurried through the staff door and returned only a minute or two later with a small, wizened woman, her hair tucked into a turban and her body swathed in an oversized crossover apron.
Molly jumped as the women came into the tearoom. She chewed her lip nervously, not wanting to look at Johnny or imagine what news she would hear.
‘Sit yourself down, Mother, and tell the young lady all you know about the Kenyon family.’
Johnny, who had stood when the women appeared, helped the woman into a seat. ‘If you can recall Miss Missons’s family, we would be most grateful.’
‘Missons? I thought your name was Kenyon.’ The elderly woman looked at her daughter, then Molly. ‘I do know that name, though . . .’ she said thoughtfully.
‘I’m Molly Missons. My mum was a Kenyon before she married my dad. He came from this area too,’ she added expectantly.
The woman nodded her head. ‘My girl here was right. She did go to school with Sally Kenyon. She had a sister . . . Charlotte. Yes, that’s right – Charlotte Kenyon. She was a fair bit older, though. A surprise baby, by all accounts, was Sally. That Charlotte, well, she left the area many years ago. I can’t quite remember why . . .’ She tapped her head, trying to think. ‘I’m not as quick up here as I used to be, but it’ll come given time.’
The Butlins Girls Page 19