‘I’ll say! He’d certainly put a damper on the proceedings. Dave says that Andy is going as well. So . . . you may well get lucky!’
‘I can but hope,’ said Diane with a sigh. She had been hoping for ages that Andy Mayhew, Dave’s best friend, would look in her direction, but all he seemed to be interested in was football. ‘All the same,’ Diane went on, ‘whatever happens – or doesn’t happen – it’ll be great going to London, won’t it? I’ve never been before. In fact I’ve never been any further than Scarborough, or to my aunt’s in Manchester.’
‘Same here,’ said Fiona. ‘Scarborough and Blackpool; that’s been the extent of my travelling. I’m getting real excited, aren’t you? I can’t stop thinking about it . . .’
The Festival of Britain had been planned to celebrate the achievements of the country and the Empire; also as a tonic to the nation after the years of wartime and the austerity that had followed. It had been, initially, the Labour government, led by Clement Attlee, that had instigated the idea, declaring that it was time for everyone to start enjoying themselves and shake off the post-war gloom. By the time the festival opened, though, the government had lost an election and was replaced by a Conservative government, led by Winston Churchill, back in power after his surprising – to many – defeat following the war. The present party was rather less enthusiastic about the event, as it had not been their idea. Nevertheless, it was formally opened by King George VI on May third, 1951.
The Youth Club group set off on their adventure on a Monday morning in mid-August. A small coach had been hired from a local travel firm, along with one of their drivers. It would be a long journey; they were expected to arrive in London at six o’clock or thereabouts, in time for their evening meal, so they were making an early start at eight o’clock in the morning.
It was an excited group that met outside the church gates. Most of the parents had come along, in some cases father was well as mother, to bid farewell to their sons and daughters. The driver took charge of the luggage – they had each been restricted to one small case or travelling bag – storing it in the luggage compartment, then they all boarded the blue and cream coach. There was ample room and they could sit wherever they wished. Mrs Wilkes suggested, however, that anyone who was liable to suffer from travel sickness should sit near the front. No one owned up to this indignity, so Mr and Mrs Wilkes sat in the front seat with the other helper, a young woman called Rita, on the opposite seat.
The girls sat on one side of the coach and the boys on the other – not that they had been told to do so, but it seemed expedient at the start of the holiday. No doubt the situation might change as the week went on, Fiona thought to herself. She hadn’t yet spoken to Dave or acknowledged that he was there, as both her parents were with her. The Reverend Cruikshank was there too, rather more jovial than usual; nevertheless, his presence did tend, somehow, to inhibit the merriment.
Fiona kissed her parents a little embarrassedly, but she knew it was expected of her; then she took her seat next to Diane, a few rows from the front. Dave, with his mate Andy, was opposite them; so that boded well for her friend, she mused.
The vicar boarded the coach at the last moment requesting that they should have a moment of prayer before they set off. He asked that the Lord would bless them all during the coming few days. ‘Keep them safe, O Lord, from harm and temptation,’ he intoned in his lugubrious voice, ‘and grant them a safe journey there and back. May they enjoy, Lord, this time together for fellowship and fun with one another, and the opportunity to make new friendships and cement the old ones. Amen.’
‘Amen to that!’ echoed Diane with a giggle as she nudged her friend.
‘Shut up!’ shushed Fiona, aware of the vicar glancing around the coach.
Then they were off, waving goodbye to the parents standing on the pavement. They were all waving furiously as though their offspring were bound for a journey into the unknown. Some of the mothers were wiping away an odd tear. For many of them it was the first time they had been parted from their children. Others, though, had experienced a separation when their children had been evacuees, not all that long ago it seemed, and this parting brought back memories. Fiona had not been an evacuee. Mary and Wilfred could not have borne to part with her, she was so precious to them, and so, despite the anticipated dangers, they had kept her at home. As it happened their area did not suffer nearly so badly from the bombing raids as some cities had done.
The teenagers, though, were shedding no tears at the parting; they were too excited thinking of the pleasures that lay ahead. For the majority it was their first visit to the capital city.
They chattered excitedly, the noise increasing in volume until it sounded like the monkey house at the zoo, Mrs Wilkes – Sheila – remarked to her husband, Colin.
‘Ne’er mind,’ he replied. ‘You can’t blame ’em. It’s a real adventure for most of them, I guess. They’re good kids though, aren’t they? I don’t reckon we’ll have much trouble with them.’
‘We’ve had our instructions, though, haven’t we?’ said Sheila. ‘You know that the Reverend said they were to be supervised at all times. And we did promise.’
‘I think we’ll have to use our own discretion,’ replied Colin. ‘They’ll need a bit of freedom, some time to themselves. It’s not as though they’re a class of infants.’
‘Yes, we’ll have to play it by ear,’ agreed Sheila. ‘We can’t let them wander around London on their own, of course. But they should be alright going round the Festival halls. We couldn’t all keep together anyway. And there’s a fun fair, isn’t there, in Battersea Park? We’ll have to let them loose there, Colin. So long as we make sure they’re back in the hotel for . . . what would you say? Ten o’clock?’
‘Oh, I think we could say half past ten,’ Colin replied. ‘Anyway, let’s wait till we get there, then we can sort out rules and regulations with the young people, and with Rita. There’ll have to be some rules to stick to, and I’m sure the kids will understand. But we must make sure it’s a holiday as well as an educational experience. I must admit I’m as excited as any of ’em.’
‘So am I,’ his wife agreed.
Colin and Sheila Wilkes were a youngish married couple, both in their early thirties; childless as yet, but they had not given up hope They were fond of children and got on well with young people, both of them being teachers at different primary schools in the area. They had volunteered to take charge of the Youth Club soon after the new vicar had arrived, and Amos Cruikshank had deemed them both eminently suitable. They respected the vicar, but they did not agree with all his rigid views. They were relieved that he had decided not to accompany them on this venture; he intended to visit the Festival later in the year with his wife and son. Sheila and Colin had remarked to one another that there would have been fewer young people on the trip had he decided to go along.
The hubbub in the coach gradually lessened as they made their way south, out of Yorkshire, into Derbyshire and the Midlands. The driver used the main roads – the A roads – sometimes veering on to the B roads to bypass the busy towns. He was an experienced driver who knew the best stopping places. He knew of a roadside café just outside Birmingham where customers were allowed to eat their own sandwiches provided they bought a drink. They stopped there for nearly an hour to have some refreshment, to stretch their legs, and to allow Mike, the driver, to smoke a well-deserved cigarette. There had been what he called a ‘comfort stop’ mid morning, and there would be two more short stops later on, he informed them, before they reached their destination.
The day was warm and sunny, and after the young people had purchased their drinks – sarsaparilla, lemonade or orange squash in the main, although tea and coffee were also available – they sat outside on the wooden benches alongside the rough wooden tables. Fiona nudged Diane as she saw Dave and Andy approaching their table. ‘Seems as though your luck’s in,’ she whispered.
‘May we join you?’ asked Dave, as polite as always, as they sat down on the op
posite bench.
‘Hi, Fiona, hi there, Diane,’ said Andy. ‘Dave told me you were coming along. Perhaps we can spend some time together this week, the four of us. What d’you think?’
Diane must be thinking that all her Christmases have come at once, reflected Fiona. ‘Yes, great,’ she answered. ‘But do you think we’ll be let off the leash?’ she added laughing.
‘Oh, I don’t see why not,’ said Dave. ‘It looks as though Rita might have other fish to fry anyway. Look over there. No . . . don’t make it so obvious!’
Rita Johnson, the young woman who had come along as the third helper, was sitting at the table next but one to them talking animatedly to Mike, the driver. They were both smoking a cigarette, presumably before starting on their packed lunch. Rita was twenty years old, only a few years older than some of her charges, but she was considered a responsible adult. Several of her contemporaries were already married or engaged. It was believed that Rita had recently suffered a broken engagement – or near engagement – but it seemed now as though she was recovering nicely.
‘Good for her,’ said Diane. ‘I’ve heard she’s been quite upset just lately. I believe her boyfriend met someone else while he was doing his National Service.’
‘It’ll be our turn for National Service soon – well – quite soon, won’t it, Dave?’ remarked Andy.
‘Suppose so,’ answered Dave. ‘Although I think you get deferred if you’re going to university don’t you? Anyway, let’s not bother about that now, eh? What sort of sarnies have you got?’
‘Sarnies!’ laughed Diane. ‘Goodness gracious! What sort of language is that? I get frowned on if I say sarnies in our house. My mum insists that we call them sandwiches and nothing else. Although I think sarnies was my dad’s word in the first place. Mum’s only joking though, trying to make out that we’re posh.’
Dave grinned. ‘Oh, well; perhaps we don’t try to be as posh at our house. My dad’s one that calls a spade a shovel, and a sandwich a sarnie.’
‘We always call them butties,’ added Andy. ‘Anyroad, what’s in a name, as someone once said. I’m ready for ’em, anyway, whatever they’re called. Let’s have a look then. What sort of sarnies have we all got?’
They opened their packets of sandwiches and spread them out on the table. Fiona pondered that there hadn’t been a great deal of levity in her home just recently. She wished that her mum still laughed and joked in the way she had heard Diane’s mum do. Her, Fiona’s, mum had of course, made her a very appetizing packed lunch. Ham sandwiches on white bread and cheese ones on brown bread, with a tomato – there was even some salt in a screw of paper – an apple and two slices of her home-made fruit cake. There was also a Thermos flask of coffee that she had shared with Diane at an earlier break.
It turned out to be a veritable feast laid out in front of them. Salmon and cucumber, corned beef, sardine, and egg and cress sandwiches, as well as the more conventional cheese and ham; meat pies – each of the boys had one which they gallantly cut in half; packets of crisps; iced buns; gingerbread; and wrapped chocolate biscuits.
‘Crikey! What a spread,’ commented Andy. ‘Let’s share it, shall we? Come on; let’s tuck in.’
‘This should keep us going for a while,’ Diane commented.
‘It’ll need to,’ said Fiona. ‘We won’t get to London for ages yet, will we?’
‘About six o’clock, so Mike said,’ Dave remarked. ‘I suppose it might have been quicker on the train, but the idea is that we’ll have the coach to ride about on while we’re there. Have any of you been to London before?’
The other three shook their heads.
‘I went there once, ages ago,’ Dave told them, ‘but I don’t remember much about it. I was only four years old, so it must have been just before the war started.’ That, of course, had curtailed travelling for most folk. ‘I seem to remember the soldiers in their red tunics and busbies – isn’t that what they’re called, those fur hats they wear? – but I can’t recall much else.’
They all fell quiet as they started eating. There was very little left when they had finished, only a couple of chocolate biscuits which Dave handed to Fiona. They exchanged a smile and she felt a surge of happiness. The holiday was starting well. She decided that she must pluck up courage to tell her parents about Dave when they returned home. That was if she and Dave were still ‘going out’ at the end of the week. Not that they had really been ‘out’ anywhere together as yet, but she was hopeful.
It seemed as though things were looking good for her friend as well. Diane was full of smiles as they boarded the coach again. ‘That was a good start, wasn’t it?’ she remarked.
‘Yes, I think Andy really likes you,’ replied Fiona.
They all chatted less and less as the afternoon drew on, replete after a substantial lunch. Some of them tried to read or do a crossword puzzle, whilst others just nodded off. There were two short breaks to ensure that the driver didn’t nod off himself. Then, at last, they began to notice signs that they were approaching London.
The roads were getting more and more busy with frequent stops for traffic lights and traffic jams. Then they noticed the underground signs which were appearing more often as they approached the city centre. West Hampstead; Swiss Cottage – although there was no sign of a Swiss chalet anywhere around; St John’s Wood; Baker Street – wasn’t that where Sherlock Holmes was supposed to live? Then they saw the sign for Marble Arch, and there it was, the familiar landmark that they had all seen pictures of.
Their route took them along Park Lane, skirting Hyde Park, then passing Buckingham Palace before heading towards the River Thames. There were excited shouts at the first view of the home of their king, George VI, with the Royal Standard flying, indicating that the king and queen were in residence. The driver tried to give them a running commentary whilst keeping his eye on the traffic.
‘We’ll see it all again tomorrow,’ he assured them. The first full day of their visit, Tuesday, was to be a day’s sightseeing tour.
There was more excitement as they crossed Westminster Bridge. The sight of the Houses of Parliament and ‘Big Ben’ was eclipsed by their first view of the Skylon, the slender tower resembling a futuristic silver rocket, soaring 300 feet into the air, the symbol of the festival that was the main reason for their visit.
The hotel was in a side street not far from the new Festival Hall. It was not a very prepossessing building, with dingy cream stucco walls and fading paintwork, but the sign over the door revealed that it went by the name of the Regency Hotel. They stood uncertainly on the pavement outside, tired after their day-long journey, but all with a happy anticipation of the pleasures ahead.
They carried their own suitcases and bags after Mike had unloaded them, waiting at the reception desk until Mr and Mrs Wilkes gave them their room keys. The hotel appeared brighter and more welcoming inside than out, with a bright red carpet and highly polished woodwork and a large gilt framed mirror on the wall. There was a faint odour of cabbage though, mixed with furniture polish and a vestigial aroma of cigarette smoke.
Fiona and Diane were sharing a room on the second floor. It was just about big enough for the two of them. There were twin beds covered with candlewick bedspreads in an odd shade of olive green, a small dressing-table and wardrobe, and a wash basin with soap and towels provided. The bathroom and toilet were situated along the corridor.
There was just time for them to unpack their cases, which didn’t take long as they hadn’t been able to bring all they might have wanted to. It was probably just as well though, as it was a tight squeeze in the wardrobe. After a quick wash and tidy up it was time for the evening meal.
They were seated – twenty-two of them in all, including Mike, the driver – on two long tables. There were a few other guests in the hotel at smaller tables for two or four. Fiona and Diane were amongst the last to come down so they weren’t able to sit near Dave and Andy, who were at the other table with the rest of the lads.
Mr
Wilkes, who had said they could call him Colin if they wished, stood up and dutifully said the grace. Some of the other diners looked round in surprise, but it was noticed that most of them bowed their heads as well. The meal that followed was quite ordinary fare but very welcome to the hungry teenagers. Roast beef, but without the Yorkshire pudding that was a must back home; carrots and cabbage, which they had smelled cooking earlier; mashed potatoes and gravy; followed by apple crumble and custard.
Alec suggested that they should stay in that evening and make use of the visitors’ lounge. He had brought along a selection of games – Snakes and Ladders, Ludo, dominoes, draughts, and even a chess set for those who had learnt the intricacies of the game. No playing cards, as those were taboo at their particular church, and he did not dare to disobey the orders of the Reverend Cruikshank in case word of his transgression should get back to the vicar.
Fiona and Diane were pleased when Dave suggested that the four of them should have a game of Ludo.
‘Exciting stuff, this,’ remarked Andy and they all laughed. They were having fun, though, the sort of fun that would meet with the approval of the church.
‘We knew there would be no riotous living though, on this trip, didn’t we?’ said Dave.
‘What do you know about riotous living, Dave?’ asked Diane.
‘Nothing . . . yet,’ he grinned, ‘but give me time.’ He winked at Fiona and she felt herself blushing.
‘There!’ he cried a few moments later as he moved his last counter home. ‘I’ve won! Now, what could be more exciting than that?’
Janet, who was in the sixth form with Fiona and Diane, was the pianist for the Youth Club. She sat down at the piano now and started to play the choruses that they sang at the close of their meetings. ‘Cleanse me from my sin, Lord’ they sang, followed by ‘Christ Jesus lives today’, and ‘Trust and Obey’. But no one objected, not even the leaders, when Janet went on to play some of the popular tunes of the day. ‘Singin’ the Blues’, ‘Buttons and Bows’ and ‘Slow Boat to China’.
Cast the First Stone Page 6