‘Good!’ said his sister, quite curtly.
The outcome of the game was a foregone conclusion. Jeff won hands down, just as Albert emerged from the kitchen having completed his chore. It was just turned eleven-thirty. The game had taken more than two hours, which was not really long compared with some marathons; Monopoly could sometimes continue on to the early hours, or even be postponed to the next day.
‘I think it’s time to call it a day now,’ said Jeff. ‘I’m thinking of you good people who have to be up to get the visitors’ breakfasts.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ said Winifred, trying to hide a yawn. ‘It’s been a good evening, hasn’t it? It’s been lovely having you here, Sally. We must do this again sometime.’
‘Yes …’ said Sally, though not overenthusiastically. ‘Thank you very much for the meal … and everything. I’ve enjoyed it.’
‘I’ll run you home, Sally, if you like,’ said Jeff. She lived not too far from his home near Gynn Square. ‘Unless …?’ He looked enquiringly at Albert.
‘Yes … thank you, Jeff,’ replied Sally hastily. ‘It’s OK, Albert. I wouldn’t expect you to walk back with me when I can go with Jeff. You need your beauty sleep!’ she quipped. The truth was that she had seen enough of him for the time being.
‘All right, then, if you’re sure,’ said Albert. He kissed her briefly on the cheek. ‘Goodnight, Sally. See you soon …’
Jeff kissed Winifred, a little more lovingly, Sally noticed. They didn’t say much on the journey home as Jeff was concentrating on the busy road; it was closing time at the pubs.
Sally was thoughtful. If Albert could behave in such a way over a game, then how might he react if things did not go his own way in real life? And there was another consideration. She had enjoyed the evening, but all of them, Albert, Winifred and Jeff, were several years older than herself. She didn’t want to grow old before her time. She realised it was mainly her own fault for carrying on seeing Albert for so long. It might be difficult now to make a break.
Chapter Thirteen
School had broken up and five glorious weeks of freedom lay ahead. Even though Sally loved her job she was not sorry to be having a break from both the children and the other teachers.
Her relations with Phil Grantley had remained cordial; but she had been surprised to learn, about a fortnight before the end of term, that Phil had found ‘other fish to fry’, to coin a phrase. It was her colleague, Joyce, who had told her that he was now seeing Fiona, the newest teacher to join the infant staff about a year ago. Sally remembered telling Phil that Fiona was a member of a local rambling club. Now it appeared that he, too, had joined the group and that the two of them, with the rest of the club, were going on a week’s rambling holiday in the Lake District. It hadn’t taken him long, Sally mused, to transfer his interest in her to someone else. She had to admit that she felt a little peeved, although she knew she had no reason to feel that way. It was her own admission that she was seeing someone else that had caused Phil to look elsewhere.
As for Sally, she was still seeing Albert, when he was able to be absent from the hotel. She felt that he was getting keener and was regarding her now, quite openly, as his lady friend; whereas she, Sally, was not so sure that she wanted things between them to get too serious. Following his show of peevishness during the game of Monopoly he had tried to be more amenable and not to show himself up again, although he had, of course, not referred to the incident since.
He had now bought a motor car, a Ford Prefect about two years old, so they no longer needed to rely on taxis when they went out together.
‘Will you be able to drive it?’ Sally had asked. She knew he had never owned a car.
‘Yes, of course,’ he had replied. ‘Actually, I already have a licence and I can soon brush up on my driving skills. I learnt to drive my father’s car before I was twenty. You didn’t need a licence in those days, but I got one as soon as it became compulsory – in 1935, I think it was.’
It turned out that Albert was a competent driver. Sally enjoyed, most of all, the times when Kathy went out with them. They had driven out into the countryside and picnicked by the banks of the River Wyre at St Michael’s, or by the stream at Nicky Nook, a favourite beauty spot not far from Blackpool.
Kathy was more at ease with her now when they were not at school, and she no longer referred to her as Miss Roberts. She didn’t actually call her anything on those occasions, but the feeling of affection and warmth between her and the child was growing. Sally wondered if Albert was now regarding her almost as a substitute mother for the little girl. Winifred had formerly assumed that role and was still doing so; but Sally speculated as to what would happen if Winifred should marry her friend, Jeff. This was seeming more and more likely from hints that Albert had dropped.
And Sally had seen for herself how proud Jeff had been of Winifred when they had attended the performance of The Importance of Being Earnest, just before the end of the school term. Kathy hadn’t understood all the action of the play, but had enjoyed seeing her aunt in such a very different guise. The two young ladies in the cast, Gwendolen and Cecily, were presented with bouquets of flowers by the stage manager; but it was Jeff, in his capacity as ASM, who presented the bouquet to Winifred, Lady Bracknell. He kissed her lovingly, seemingly not caring about who was watching, and his regard and affection for her were clear to everyone as he stood beside her on the stage.
Drama meetings ceased during the month of August, but Jeff and Winifred were still very much together. Sally watched Albert becoming more and more concerned.
‘I rely on Winnie so much in the hotel,’ he told her. ‘We’re a good partnership, our Winnie and me. Of course, she’s a perfect right to please herself whatever she does, and if she wants to set up house with Jeff Bancroft – if they get wed, of course – then I suppose there’s nowt … er … nothing I can do about it. I know it’d be a wrench to her, though, if she had to leave our little Kathy.’
Sally was relieved that she would be getting away from Blackpool for a week during the school holidays. Following on from her night school class in French conversation, she was joining a group of the students who had decided to test their prowess in the language by spending some time in France; they had booked places on a coach tour to Normandy and Brittany. Joyce, Sally’s colleague from school, was going as well. The two of them had become quite friendly recently. Joyce was a few years younger than Sally, but was the nearest one in age to her on the infant staff. She was married, but there were no children as yet, and she had said she would be pleased to accompany Sally, especially as her husband would be away on a fishing trip that week. They would be sharing a room during what looked like being quite a hectic few days of travelling from one resort to another.
‘I shall miss you,’ Albert told Sally. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had a holiday.’ He sounded a little put out. ‘Perhaps we could manage a few days away – just you and me, eh – when it’s your next half-term holiday? The Lights will have finished then and all the visitors gone home. What do you reckon to that?’
‘I don’t really know, Albert,’ said Sally rather evasively. ‘I shall need to think about it.’
‘Well, give it some thought while you’re away … And don’t forget to send us a postcard. Kathy’s going to miss you as well, aren’t you, love?’
Kathy nodded. ‘Yes, I will,’ she said. ‘But I shall be busy. Shirley’s here with her mum, you know, during the holidays, and we’re looking after little Brenda, Shirley and me.’
‘Oh yes, I remember,’ smiled Sally. ‘I’ll send a postcard for you and Shirley, then, shall I?’
‘Yes, that’ll be nice,’ agreed Kathy.
It was good fun having Shirley with her, and Brenda as well. They spent a good deal of the time in Kathy’s room up in the attic, playing games or crayoning, or looking at books. They were allowed to play in the backyard if the weather was fine, skipping or playing with balls or whips and tops. They couldn’t play out in
the street, not with Brenda, because of the traffic.
The first two weeks were quite fine, then on the third week it started to rain. It was the week that Miss Roberts – or Sally, which was how Kathy now thought of her – was away. She hoped that the weather was nice and sunny in France.
‘I’m bored!’ said Shirley, when they had played Snakes and Ladders and tiddlywinks, and gone through their pile of comics. ‘What can we do, Kathy? You think of something.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Kathy. ‘I’m helping Brenda to colour in this picture.’
‘Oh, never mind her,’ said Shirley. It was something she said quite often, leaving most of the looking after Brenda to Kathy, who really didn’t mind at all.
Shirley stood up on the bed that Kathy slept on and started jumping up and down. ‘It’s dead springy, your mattress,’ she said. ‘Come on, Kathy; let’s see who can jump the highest.’
‘No! I’m not supposed to jump on it,’ said Kathy. ‘It’s quite a new one, and Aunty Win says it’ll damage the springs.’
‘’Course it won’t!’ retorted Shirley. ‘Is the other bed the same?’ She took a flying leap from one bed to the other – there was a space of about two feet between them – then started to jump on the opposite bed. ‘Yes, it’s just as springy. Come on, Kathy. Don’t be such a baby! I know … Let’s pretend it’s a river and we’ve got to jump from one bank to the other. Your Aunty Win’ll never know. She’s busy in the kitchen, isn’t she?’
Kathy knew she shouldn’t, but her friend was so bossy and she hated being called a baby. Somewhat reluctantly she climbed onto the bed and jumped across to the other one.
‘I know …’ said Shirley. ‘You jump one way an’ I’ll jump the other way, then we’ll cross in midstream. Mind you don’t fall in or you’ll get wet.’ Actually, Kathy thought it was a pretty daft sort of game and she hoped her friend would soon get tired of it.
‘Let me! Let me!’ shouted Brenda. Before Kathy could stop her she had clambered onto the bed.
‘No … don’t!’ yelled Kathy, but it was too late. The child took a leap, as she had seen the bigger girls do, landing with a loud bump on the floor between the beds. ‘Ow! Ow!’ she cried. ‘My leg, my leg, it hurts!’
The two friends looked at one another in horror then rushed to her side. She had landed with her leg bent underneath her. She yelled even more when Shirley tried to straighten her leg.
‘Stop it! Stop it! You’re hurting me. I want my mummy …’ The child burst into tears.
‘You’d better go and get your aunty, and my mum as well, I suppose,’ said Shirley in a whisper. ‘She’s going to be dead mad with me … Don’t cry, Brenda. It’ll be all right.’
Kathy dashed down several flights of stairs and along the passage to the kitchen. Her father and aunt were both in there. ‘Aunty Win,’ she called. ‘Can you come? Brenda’s hurt her leg.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said her aunt. ‘We’d better tell Sadie – Mrs Morris – as well; she’s setting the tables. What was Brenda doing, anyway, to hurt her leg?’
‘She was jumping,’ said Kathy, a little sheepishly. ‘She fell off the bed.’
‘I see,’ said her aunt, looking rather stern. ‘Well, we’d better go and get Brenda’s mummy, hadn’t we?’
Mrs Morris was in the dining room setting the tables with the cutlery needed for the midday meal and tidying up the napkins.
‘I’m afraid Brenda’s had a little accident,’ said Kathy’s aunt. At the look of consternation on the woman’s face she hurried on to say, ‘It’s all right; nothing too bad as far as I can make out. Kathy says she’s hurt her leg.’
‘Oh dear!’ Sadie Morris put down the serviette she was folding and followed Kathy and her aunt out of the door and up the stairs. ‘I don’t know what my husband will say,’ Kathy could hear her muttering. ‘Well, actually, I do know. He was dead against me bringing her here; he expects me to be watching her every minute of the day.’
Brenda started crying again as soon as she saw her mother. ‘Mummy, Mummy! My leg hurts. Make it better!’
She didn’t cry out in pain this time as Mrs Morris gently straightened out her leg and felt tentatively at the ankle. ‘You’re alright, darling,’ she said. ‘No bones broken as far as I can see. I think you’ve sprained your ankle.’
‘I’ll get some cold water and a bandage,’ said Winifred, who had a little first-aid knowledge, as had Mrs Morris. The ankle was bathed and bandaged, and Brenda did not complain too much, although she couldn’t put any weight on her foot. There was no word of recrimination at first, then Mrs Morris turned to question her shamefaced daughter.
‘Whatever were you doing, Shirley, to let her fall? I told you to look after her.’
‘We were jumping off the beds, that’s all,’ said Shirley, a trifle belligerently. ‘It wasn’t my fault. Kathy said we could.’
Kathy was shocked at her friend’s betrayal, especially as it had been Shirley’s idea. ‘It wasn’t my fault either!’ she retorted. ‘But I’m very sorry, Mrs Morris.’
‘That’s all right, dear,’ the lady replied. ‘It could have been worse.’
‘I think you’d better let the doctor have a look at her, just to be on the safe side,’ said Aunty Win. ‘You can go now if you like.’
‘No, thanks … I’ll stay and finish my shift,’ she replied. ‘I’ll call on my way home. Oh dear! Brenda won’t be able to walk, will she?’
‘Don’t worry – Albert will run you to the doctor’s,’ said Winifred, ‘and then take you home. It’s the least we can do. Now, young lady, you’d better sit quietly in a big chair in the living room, seeing as you’re a wounded soldier!’
Her mother carried her downstairs, with Kathy and Shirley, rather subdued, following behind. They all had their dinner after the visitors had been served, and when the washing-up was done, Albert took Brenda and her mother to the doctor’s surgery.
‘She was very worried about what her husband’s going to say,’ Albert told his sister later that day as they were preparing the salads for the teatime meal. ‘From what I gather, things are not too rosy there. I wouldn’t be surprised if we lose Sadie before very long. You’ll have to be prepared for her giving notice, Winnie.’
‘Yes, I can see the way things are,’ agreed Winifred. ‘Mr Morris’ll have even more of an axe to grind now, won’t he? I bet it was Shirley at the root of this, though Kathy won’t say very much. She’s a loyal little soul. She’s very upset about it, so I haven’t been too cross with her. But I saw the look on her face when Shirley tried to blame her. She’s a bit of a minx, that Shirley … Mind you, I don’t think Sadie’s helping matters at home much either. I don’t like saying this, but I’ve noticed she’s got rather too friendly with Barry Proctor. He was here at Easter, if you remember, and I thought then that they were getting on very well together. And now he’s here again. I was quite surprised, I must admit, when he booked up for another week.’
‘Hmm … It doesn’t take some fellows long to forget, does it?’ remarked Albert. Barry Proctor, with his wife, had visited Holmleigh on a few occasions. Then two years ago Barry had written with the sad news that Joan had died following a bad attack of flu, but that he would still be spending his summer holidays at Holmleigh. He enjoyed the seasonal variety shows in Blackpool, and the bracing winds and clean fresh sea air, a far cry from the rather grimy town of Burnley where he was an overseer in a mill.
‘His wife’s hardly cold in her grave,’ Albert went on. ‘I thought he was devoted to her, but it just goes to show … Mind you, I blame the women for doing the chasing. I’d have thought better of Sadie Morris, though …’
‘We can’t condemn her when we don’t know all the facts,’ said Winifred. ‘Anyway, it isn’t our place to act as judge and jury. I hope she’s not acting foolishly, though, more for the sake of the children than anything.’
Albert didn’t answer. His sister knew he wasn’t in the best of humours that week with Sally being away in France.
Mrs Morris arrived the next morning without Brenda. ‘My dad says Brenda can’t come here anymore,’ Shirley told Kathy. ‘He was dead mad with my mum, far more mad than he was with me, and they had an awful row. He didn’t want mummy to come either, but she said she had to, and he hadn’t to try and stop her.’
‘So where’s Brenda, then?’ asked Kathy.
‘She’s next door with Mrs Murray. She said she’ll look after her, because she’s got a little girl the same age, so they can play together. I don’t think she’ll do it every day, though, so I don’t know what’s going to happen.’
‘What shall we play, then?’ asked Kathy. ‘We mustn’t do any more jumping!’
‘I know, I know!’ snapped Shirley. They started a big jigsaw of circus clowns, and when they tired of that they each read an Enid Blyton book. But Kathy knew they were not getting on as well as they used to do.
Things went from bad to worse. It was on Saturday morning, changeover day, that Sadie arrived in a very agitated state.
‘I can’t come anymore,’ she told Winifred. ‘I can’t even work my notice. I’m really sorry to leave you in the lurch like this, but I can’t carry on with the waitressing and helping in the hotel. I’ll still do the books for you, just for the moment; I don’t see how Frank can object to that, but I don’t know for how long …’
She explained that her son, Graham, had fallen in the sea the previous day and had to be rescued by a holidaymaker. He had been brought home drenched and frightened, and her husband, understandably, had hit the roof. Graham had gone to the beach with his friend Jimmy, with whom he had been spending most of his time. They had been given strict instructions not to go near the sea, but boys would be boys. Graham had protested that they were only paddling, but a big wave had swept him off his feet.
‘Oh, goodness me! That’s bad news,’ said Winifred, ‘and for Graham as well, of course. Is he all right now?’
‘He’s fine,’ said Sadie. ‘But I’ve got to stay at home and see to them now. I daren’t do anything else under the circumstances. I’m really sorry, Winifred …’
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