‘You will make a beautiful bridesmaid. You would also make a beautiful bride, but I’ll settle for bridesmaid for now.’
Molly laughed. ‘Kath, you are just like my mum.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ Kath smiled at her fondly. ‘I’ll pour that tea while you read your other letter.’
The second letter contained an invitation from Johnny for Molly and Freda to attend the screening of the film A Matter of Life and Death in Leicester Square in London. ‘It seems to be very posh,’ Molly commented. ‘My gosh, the king and queen will be there.’
‘I’ve read about that,’ Kath said, flicking through copies of the Evening News that were stacked in a corner ready for fire-making. ‘Here it is. David Niven will be there, as well as many other stars. It seems very important. You and Freda will have a wonderful time.’
Molly sighed with delight. ‘Freda will be over the moon. We shall have to decide what to wear. It sounds as though evening frocks will be required. These are very good seats. My goodness!’
After finishing her tea and a slice of Kath’s treacle tart, Molly headed off to Missons Ironmonger’s to see what George was up to. She found him stacking old floorboards outside the shop.
‘Hello, my love. How long have you been back?’
‘Only a couple of hours, George. What’s been going on here?’
George pointed out the damage from the storm. ‘Hitler started this during the war when that landmine went off over the back and shook the building. We had a heavy downpour last week and the water came in and finished off the job. I’ve emptied out the room and started to rip up the floor so the builders can come in during half-day closing to plaster the walls and lay new floorboards.’
‘I’ll give you a hand. Kath said dinner will be ready at six thirty, so we’d best not be late. It’s liver and bacon, and the liver will be as tough as old boots if we keep it waiting too long.’
‘Let’s get cracking, then, or Kath will be after us.’
George continued pulling up the wooden floor, while Molly carried the wood outside to add it to the growing pile.
‘Well, I’ll be . . .’ George said, reaching down to where he’d just pulled up a loose board. ‘There’s something down here.’
Molly grabbed a torch from a counter display and shone it where George was reaching down. ‘What is it, George?’ she asked, peering over his shoulder.
George pulled out a box wrapped in oilcloth. He sat on the floor and unwrapped the parcel. ‘It looks like a cashbox of some kind and a ledger. I wonder who it belongs to.’
Molly took the ledger. ‘It’s Dad’s handwriting.’ She flicked through the pages of numbers. ‘The last entry is three days before the car accident. Is there anything in the cashbox, George?’
‘It’s locked, but hang on a minute.’ He heaved himself to his feet and found the large bunch of keys that were used for the shop. George tried a couple of smaller keys until the lock clicked and the box opened. He tipped the contents of the box onto the shop counter. Out fell a small bank-account book, a bundle of ten-shilling notes, some loose change and an envelope.
‘How much is there?’ Molly asked.
George quickly counted the money. ‘Thirty-seven pounds, twelve shillings and sixpence.’
She pointed to the last entry in the ledger. ‘That’s the amount Dad entered.’ Molly took the bank deposit book and opened it. ‘The money paid in corresponds with the ledger. This must have been a second account where Dad deposited extra money. We’ve been running the shop on the current account and all the while there’s been spare cash to pay the bills.’
‘Norman must have placed this under the floorboard for safe keeping until he went to the bank. I wondered why this one was so loose. We’d always planned to get a safe fitted but never got around to doing it.’
‘There’s over three hundred pounds in this account,’ Molly said in astonishment. ‘What’s in the envelope?’
George opened the brown envelope and pulled out a folded cream sheet of paper. Smoothing it out flat, they both peered at the last will and testament of Norman Missons.
They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
‘All this time we’ve been worrying about Mr Denton being away and the paperwork was under our feet,’ George said. ‘Has he left the house to you, Molly?’
Molly looked up at George with tears in her eyes. ‘Everything has been left to Mum. Dad never for one moment expected to die alongside Mum.’
George looked closer at the document. ‘It is dated two weeks before they both died and was prepared by Mr Denton. If Harriet Missons does have a will, which I don’t believe she has, it must have been prepared long before this one so will be void.’
‘What do we do, George? Should we march up there and kick them out?’
George thought for a moment. ‘I think we should tread carefully. We could do with a good solicitor to advise us before we speak to the police. With Mr Denton away, it is going to be hard to prove anything, as he knows your dad’s business better than anyone else. I’m going to have a word with Mr Johnson’s legal friend. Help was offered and we’d be fools not to take it up.’
Molly nodded. As much as she didn’t want Johnny’s help so she could stand on her own two feet, she knew it wouldn’t hurt to consult Johnny’s friend. ‘Would you speak to him, George? I’ll write down everything my grandparents told me about Bert Missons.’
‘Leave it with me, love. Now, let’s go and have that liver-and-bacon dinner before Kath gives it to the dog.’
Molly arranged a bunch of pink chrysanthemums in a short vase at the head of Norman and Charlotte Missons’s grave. She’d given the headstone a wipe and pulled a few stray weeds from the grass surrounding the grave. So much had happened since the last time she had visited her parents’ final resting place.
‘Oh, Mum, you’d have loved Butlins. If only things had been different and we could have holidayed there together. Dad, I know you’d have liked Johnny. Even though our paths are destined not to run side by side through life, you can rest in peace knowing he is a true gentleman.’
Standing up, she brushed a few strands of grass from her coat and smiled down at her parents’ grave. ‘I miss you both so much it hurts, but you’d be proud of me and how I’ve coped. At least, I hope you would.’ She blew a small kiss and walked away.
‘It helps to talk to them,’ an elderly man said as he stood up from a nearby bench and raised his hat. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing. You must be Norman Missons’s daughter? I’m Fred Butler. This here is my wife, Dot. I often pop up for a chat and tell her what I’ve been up to.’ He pointed towards a carefully tended grave covered in flowers. ‘Dot always appreciated a few flowers on the sideboard, so now I’m not digging for victory anymore, I can grow some blooms just for her.’
‘They are wonderful,’ Molly said, not quite knowing what to say. ‘Did you know my dad?’
‘I certainly did. He put me right a few times on what I needed to fix up my house. I miss his knowledge and his cheerful chat. He was a popular chap in Pier Road was your dad.’
‘The shop is still open, so if you are ever in need of help, Mr Butler, please don’t be afraid to ask. My knowledge is not up to scratch, but George is always available to give advice if it’s needed.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind, young lady. You’re a credit to your parents the way you’ve kept going after what happened.’
Molly smiled and thanked the man. It was as she walked away she realized she no longer cried when people mentioned her parents. Norman and Charlotte Missons took a piece of her heart with them when they died, but at last she felt strong enough to cope without becoming a snivelling wreck. She raised her chin high as she stepped onto the bus and smiled at the conductor. She would take whatever life threw at her knowing her parents looked down with pride.
23
‘This is magical,’ Freda said in awe as the two girls approached the Empire Theatre in Leicester Square. ‘Do you
think we will see the king and queen? I’ve been practising my curtsy in the staff canteen at work.’
Molly smiled at her friend’s excitement. She couldn’t quite believe they were attending such a special event. She’d written to Johnny to thank him for the tickets and had also rung his office, but he’d not been available to take her call. She knew he was busy in his new job but all the same felt a little rejected, despite it being her who had refused to talk seriously about marriage. She looked around for Johnny but couldn’t see him among the crowd.
‘I can’t believe how beautiful the women look in their gowns. Do you think we fit in properly?’
‘Freda, you look wonderful. The red silk suits you down to the ground.’
‘I hope so – it’s a long dress.’ She laughed. ‘Maisie did a good job altering your mum’s dresses to fit us, didn’t she?’
Molly agreed. It had been her idea to utilize the dresses that she’d rescued from Avenue Road. Freda’s friend Maisie was a whizz with a sewing machine and had remodelled the dresses by copying the latest styles from her fashion magazines. Molly had been particularly fond of her mum’s green velvet gown and was so pleased she could now wear it in a newer style. Wearing her mum’s fur coat round her shoulders, and Freda a fur stole, she felt as though Charlotte Missons was with them on this special occasion.
‘Look – there’s Johnny,’ Freda said, pointing to where a group of people were standing close to a roped-off area near the entrance to the cinema. ‘I think they’re waiting for the king and queen to arrive.’
The girls headed through the waiting crowd until they were on the fringe of Johnny’s group. Molly raised her hand to catch his attention. He was looking particularly handsome in a black dinner suit and sparkling white shirt. Molly heard people calling out his name among the watching crowd of cinema fans. Johnny waved a few times to the fans and gave a smile before turning back to the people in his group. Molly edged forward, wanting to be with Johnny.
‘Ouch! Watch out!’ a female voice exclaimed as Molly was pushed into her.
Molly cringed: she recognized that voice. It was Gloria, the receptionist from Butlins.
‘Oh, it’s you. Johnny mentioned he’d invited a few staff members. I did tell him you’d all be out of your depth at a function like this.’ Gloria looked Molly up and down and sniffed. ‘Wherever did you find the rags?’
Freda leaned forward and hissed, ‘These are from a fashion house. Would you like to see the labels and stroke the fur?’
Molly grinned at Freda. She could see Gloria looking at the gowns and she held her head high. Her mum had always bought quality clothing, believing it was an investment, so she was proud to be wearing her outfit, as was Freda.
Johnny spotted the two friends as they chatted excitedly, and pushed through the crowd to kiss Molly tenderly on the lips and whisper, ‘I’m so glad you could make it.’ He kissed Freda on the cheek. ‘You look a million dollars, Freda.’
She whispered something in his ear and he burst out laughing.
‘Whatever did you say?’ Molly asked as Johnny turned to shake hands with a man who had just arrived.
‘I told him I bought it from Woolies.’ She grinned.
The girls were still laughing when Johnny introduced them to his companion, David Niven.
Molly couldn’t remember what she said to the famous actor but told Kath later that he had the most wonderful smile and was a true gentleman.
Freda tried hard not to curtsy and instead asked for his autograph, which her colleagues at Woolworths later said must have been a forgery, until they spotted both girls on Pathé News when they next went to the local Odeon in Erith.
They were led into the cinema before the Royal Family arrived. Johnny gave an arm to Molly and Freda, and escorted them both to their seats, next to his own. As the lights went down, he reached for Molly’s hand and held it gently throughout the film.
As they left the cinema, Freda was overcome with excitement when she spotted Queen Elizabeth in her car. ‘This is the perfect ending to the perfect day,’ she whispered to Molly.
They stood outside as the crowds started to drift away. They would need to hail a cab to get back to Charing Cross Station before the last train of the night left for Erith.
‘Molly, where are you going? I have a car collecting us. It should be here soon,’ Johnny said as he walked over to where the two girls stood.
‘Don’t worry about us, Johnny. We can get back to the station by cab.’
Johnny looked puzzled. ‘What about the reception at the Savoy Hotel?’
It was Molly’s turn to look puzzled. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. We need to catch our train.’
‘The invitation included the hotel reception and an overnight stay. Didn’t you read the letter that was with the invitation?’
Molly pulled the envelope from her handbag and held it out to Johnny. ‘There wasn’t a letter. I rang your office to say thank you for the invitation and no one mentioned a reception or accommodation.’
Johnny ran his hand over his hair in exasperation. ‘I just don’t understand.’ He turned and called Gloria over. ‘Do you know anything about the letter being left out of Molly’s envelope?’
Gloria took Johnny’s arm and pouted provocatively. ‘I may have made a mistake. You work me so hard, Johnny, night and day,’ she added, smiling towards Molly. ‘You know what he’s like. Come along, Johnny – I’m just dying for a cocktail.’
Fortunately for Molly, a taxicab passed at that moment and she raised her hand to stop it. ‘Thank you for a delightful evening, Johnny. I’ll never forget this,’ she said pointedly, and climbed into the vehicle, followed by a puzzled Freda.
As the vehicle sped away, Molly didn’t see Johnny standing alone in the middle of the road, as her eyes were full of tears.
‘This is very nice,’ Kath remarked as she inspected the bay window in the front room of the terraced house across the road from where Freda lived in Erith. ‘The last owners have left it very clean. We can have you moved in within days. You can take the bedroom furniture from your room at our house to get you started, along with some bedding. What about pots and pans?’
‘Freda bought me some as a moving-in gift, and Mrs Caselton over the road has an armchair for me.’
‘It’s such a shame that there’s so much furniture at your parents’ house that belongs to you. I’ve a mind to walk up there and get some. Harriet Missons can’t really say no, can she?’
‘It’s Simon who I’m more worried about. He’s so unpredictable.’
Kath thought for a moment. ‘Let’s take a walk up to Avenue Road and see what happens. We can stop off at the shop and leave a note for George to pick us up in the van when he gets back from the supplier’s. We’ll be able to pack a fair bit in the vehicle and go back for some more another day.’
‘I don’t know, Kath. George said to keep away . . .’ Molly said with a worried frown.
Kath wasn’t having any of it. ‘It won’t hurt to knock on the door. We can always walk away if your relatives are unpleasant.’
‘All right, but promise to be careful,’ she sighed.
It had been a week since she’d attended the film in London. Part of her had hoped that Johnny would get in touch, but she hadn’t heard a word from him. Molly couldn’t understand why Gloria was working for him. Had he promised a job to every female who’d worked at Butlins? But Gloria of all people . . . Didn’t Johnny understand how troublesome she could be? Molly had hardly slept since that night; she just tossed and turned in her bed, trying to make sense of Johnny and asking herself if she cared. She’d still not come to any conclusions as they walked up to her parents’ house that afternoon to look at the furniture. They’d dropped a note in at the shop to let George know to pick them up with the van at closing time.
They were surprised to see a for-sale board in the garden of the house in Avenue Road. Something would have to be done quickly, before Harriet and Simon sold Molly’s inhe
ritance when they had no right to the property.
Molly still had a key to the house and let them both in. She called out to Harriet and Simon, but there was no answer. ‘Let’s get the curtains and bedding from upstairs. We can bring it all down to the front door ready for loading.’ She didn’t want to be in the house a moment longer than she had to be.
‘What about the dressing table and chest of drawers from your bedroom? We could pull them out to the landing for George to move downstairs?’ Kath suggested.
‘That’s a good idea. I’d also like the little side tables from the front room and Mum’s bureau. Plus the oil lamp that’s in the bay window if that’s possible.’
They were carrying the bureau between them when the front door opened and Harriet walked in, followed by Simon. ‘Whatever do you think you are doing, taking my property from my house?’ Harriet demanded.
‘I think you’ll find that the contents of the house belong to me,’ Molly said bravely. She didn’t wish to inform them that the newly discovered will left everything to her. That was best left for now until solicitors, and hopefully police, had investigated. She just wanted the furniture for her new home.
‘You are wrong, Molly. Your father’s will left everything to my husband, and as he has passed away, it now belongs to me.’
Kath rounded on Harriet. ‘I’d like to see this will, please,’ she said as pleasantly as she could.
‘It is of no concern of yours, Mrs Jones. I own this house and you are both trespassing.’
Kath wasn’t budging. ‘I don’t believe you. I want to see the will. You see, we know otherwise.’
Molly could see that Kath’s words had annoyed Harriet. ‘I’m afraid you are wrong, Mrs Jones. I have a vast knowledge of the legal world and the will in my possession is legal and binding. My husband was left all property by his cousin Norman, and now it is mine.’
‘And I’m calling you a liar,’ Kath spat back. ‘We know more about you and your husband than you think. You’re nothing but a jumped-up barmaid from Skegness. You are both thieves.’
The Butlins Girls Page 30