One Week in August

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘Here we are,’ said Janice, pushing open the door for them to enter the room. Mr Butler had already deposited their cases, one on each of the two single beds. ‘It’s quite a nice room, and it’s at the front. Not that that makes a lot of difference, but it’s a better view than you get at the back, of dustbins and backyards. Further up on the third floor and the attic you can get a glimpse of the sea and Blackpool Tower, if you crane your neck!’ She laughed. ‘But I think you’ll be comfortable in here.’

  ‘Thanks very much,’ said Val, and Cissie echoed, ‘Yes, thanks. It’s nice in here, isn’t it, Val?’

  Janice seemed to be a very friendly sort of girl, around their own age, Val guessed.

  ‘Do you work here?’ she asked her, ‘I mean, is this your job, helping your mother in the hotel?’

  ‘Well, not exactly,’ answered Janice. ‘I’m helping out at the moment, during the holiday. I’m going to university next month, you see.’

  ‘Ooh, clever you!’ said Cissie. ‘You must be real brainy.’

  Janice laughed. ‘Not really,’ she replied, a little embarrassed. ‘It’s just something that I’m doing, that’s all. It’s what my parents always wanted me to do, so they’re very pleased about it.’

  ‘And aren’t you pleased?’ asked Val.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose I am. I haven’t thought about it very much. I’m happy at home, you see, and it’ll be a big change for me. But I expect I’ll be OK once I get there … Where do you two work?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, we work at the mill; well, at one of ’em, don’t we, Val?’ replied Cissie. ‘No, let me get this right. Val works in the office, but me, I’m just a mill girl. I started as a weaver.’

  ‘Don’t run yourself down, Cissie,’ said her friend. ‘She’s got a responsible job,’ she told Janice. ‘She works in the mending room, putting right all the mistakes that the weavers have made in the cloth. It’s an important job, and they only let the experienced girls do it.’

  ‘OK, if you say so,’ said Cissie, laughing. ‘But we’ve always been friends, haven’t we, Val? Ever since we were four years old and started school together.’

  ‘That’s lovely,’ said Janice. ‘I still have some friends that I was at school with … Well, I’d better leave you to do your unpacking and get on with my job. I’ll see you later at the evening meal. One of my jobs is waitressing, so I’ll make sure that I’m serving your table. ‘Bye for now …’

  ‘She’s a nice sort of girl,’ said Cissie, when she was out of earshot. ‘I thought she was a bit – you know – lah-di-dah, at first, but she’s quite normal, isn’t she, even though she’s going to university.’

  ‘Yes, why shouldn’t she be?’ answered Val. ‘It takes all sorts, as they say. Rather her than me, though. I wouldn’t fancy all that studying, would you?’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing!’ said Cissie. ‘No, I wouldn’t swap places with her, though her mam and dad seem very nice. I’m glad to see the back of mine for a week. Now then, which bed do you want?’

  ‘I’ll have this one, where Mr Butler’s put my case,’ said Val. ‘There’s nothing to choose between them. Yours is nearer the window, but like Janice said, there’s not much of a view.’

  There was a row of similar houses across the road, and further along, a row of small shops. They were well suited with their room. The beds were covered with pink candlewick bedspreads, and the pink theme was echoed in the floral curtains, the carpet, and the towels on the rail by the washbasin. Most probably there would not be a bathroom – they would have to be content with a good ‘up and down’ wash for a week – but there was a WC at the end of the landing.

  There was ample room to move around without bumping into one another. The furniture was plain light oak, the standard items that were produced when the war ended, plain and functional: a large wardrobe with a full-length mirror, dressing table, and a handy little cupboard between the beds.

  ‘Come on, let’s get sorted out,’ said Cissie, ‘then we can have a walk along the prom. I can’t wait to see the sea.’

  They hung up their summer dresses in the wardrobe, hoping that the creases would drop out. They had both treated themselves to a new dress from C&A in Bradford, when they had been on a spending spree there, something they did only a couple of times a year. Their clothes had to last a long time as neither of them, especially Cissie, had a great deal of money to splash around. They each had an accordion pleated skirt, and a fuller one in a dirndl style to wear with white or pastel shaded blouses. The new synthetic materials such as nylon and terylene were a godsend as they were shrink-proof and easy to wash, as well as being lightweight.

  It was the same with their underwear which they put away in the dressing table drawers: nylon panties, bras and suspender belts, and nylon stockings which were now known just as ‘nylons’. They hoped, though, that the weather would be warm enough for them to go without stockings. They each had a short nylon nightdress, and a can-can petticoat – which took up most of the room in the drawer – with frills of nylon net to make a skirt stand out.

  After a quick wash to get rid of the grime of the journey they were ready to sample the delights of Blackpool.

  ‘Ready?’ said Val. ‘Let’s go …’ They giggled and hugged one another excitedly, then they set off for the promenade which was just at the end of the street, past the impressive hotel on the corner.

  ‘That’s where the posh folk’ll be staying,’ remarked Cissie. ‘But never mind, eh? We’re going to have a smashing time.’

  There was invariably a breeze blowing along the prom no matter how brightly the sun was shining. It was not cold, though, just fresh and bracing, a change from the smokey pall that often hung over their native town. The salty smell of the ozone drifted from the sea, and seagulls wheeled around, screeching raucously above their heads.

  The tide was in, lapping against the sea wall, so there was no chance of a stroll along the sands that day. Although it was not the sea and sands that the girls were particularly interested in. They had both – hopefully – brought a bathing costume in case it might be warm enough to lounge in a deckchair in the sunshine, but neither of them were swimmers. Besides, they had been told that the sea at Blackpool was always cold and not very clean either. But it would be lovely to see the endless sweep of golden sand when the tide went out. Seven miles of sand, it was said, stretching from Lytham St Anne’s to the south of the town up to Fleetwood to the north.

  ‘Shall we go on the pier?’ said Cissie. They were approaching North Pier – there were three piers in Blackpool, North, Central and South – which was only a ten-minute walk from their hotel.

  ‘Yes, let’s!’ replied Val, giggling like a child at the novelty of it. They pushed their way through the iron turnstile and walked along the wooden planking, their feet making a clip-clopping sound on the boards. Through the cracks between the planks they could see the waves splashing, and the breeze was stronger here, ruffling their hair and blowing their skirts around their knees.

  At the end of the pier there was a theatre where, every year, there was a variety show called ‘On with the Show’. It had been running for many years starring a comedian, Dave Morris, who had made his name in Blackpool. But that was only one of the many season shows in the town. The girls intended to go to at least one, provided they could get the tickets. They walked almost to the end, deciding not to venture along the jetty which reached further out to sea, where fishermen waited hopefully for a catch of whiting, the most common fish in that part of the Irish Sea.

  They leaned against the railings, looking back at the miles and miles of promenade. To their right, to the south, they could see the other two piers, and on the opposite side of the tramtrack the Palace Theatre, and a little further along the Tower building with the massive structure reaching up into the sky. There was a lift making its ascent to the top.

  ‘Shall we go up the Tower?’ said Cissie. ‘Another day, I mean. Ooh, there’s so much to do, Val. We could do with a mo
nth, or at least a fortnight, not just a week.’

  ‘Well, a week’s all we’ll get,’ said Val with a laugh. ‘Our money wouldn’t last that long anyway. Just be content with what you’ve got, Cissie.’

  ‘Oh, I am, really I am,’ Cissie replied. ‘I can still hardly believe I’m here. Gosh! What a lot of hotels. D’you think they’ll all be full?’

  The hotels stretched in a long line southwards as far as the Pleasure Beach, where they could just make out the undulations of the Big Dipper.

  ‘Most of them are probably full during August,’ replied Val. ‘It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? All these folks on holiday … I wonder if we’ll meet anybody we know?’

  ‘I hope not,’ said Cissie. ‘I’ve come away to forget all that lot at home. It’d be nice to meet a millionaire, though, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘What, in Blackpool!’ Val laughed. ‘They all hang out in Nice or Monte Carlo.’

  ‘You don’t know. There’ll be some rich blokes staying at those big fancy hotels – like that one over yonder. Can you see it?’

  It was the Imperial Hotel with a flag flying from a turret on the roof. On their left, to the north, there were many such impressive hotels. From their vantage point they could see the red sandstone cliffs on the lower promenade, reaching up to the tramtrack. They were man-made cliffs, in fact, Blackpool was entirely constructed by the efforts of man. It did not have the natural beauty of landscape such as could be found in Scarborough or Whitby. But Blackpool had grown and thrived, glorying in its popularity as the leading seaside resort in the north, if not in the whole, of England.

  ‘Who’s bothered about rich blokes?’ said Val. ‘I’m not! It would be nice, though, to meet somebody … well, you know … somebody that I really liked, and who meant what he said.’

  ‘You’re not still upset about Neil, are you?’ asked Cissie. ‘You deserve somebody better than him, Val. Just forget him.’

  ‘No, I’m not still thinking about Neil. He’s welcome to his little Fräulein, if that’s what he wants. At least he told me, didn’t he?’

  ‘I never liked him. You’re better off without him.’

  ‘Just let it drop, Cissie. I’ve come here to enjoy myself. I know now that he wasn’t right for me …’

  Val’s friendship with Neil Parker, a young man who was also employed at Walker’s mill as an overseer, had come to an end when he was in the army doing his national service. He had promised to write to Val, which he had done, spasmodically. Then he had been posted to Germany and had met a German girl. He had written to tell Val what had happened. He was sorry, but it was all over between the two of them. She had been shocked and hurt for a while, but consoled by the knowledge that her parents had never trusted him. They had never tried to interfere, but she had known, deep down, that they were right.

  ‘Sorry; won’t mention him again,’ said Cissie, tucking her arm through Val’s in a matey fashion. ‘Come on; let’s treat ourselves to an ice cream from that kiosk, then p’raps we’d better be getting back. We’re going dancing tonight, aren’t we?’

  ‘So we are. There’s the Tower and the Winter Gardens. I believe they’ve both got super-duper dance floors …’

  They bought their huge cornets then strolled back along the prom, looking forward to the delights of the evening ahead.

  FIVE

  ‘Hello again, you two …’ Janice appeared at their table for two, dressed as a waitress in black and white with a frilly apron. ‘Here’s your soup. Hope you enjoy it, it’s mushroom. Now be careful, it’s hot.’

  The soup was delicious, as was the tender chicken that followed. The potatoes and vegetables were served in a separate dish, a nice touch which made them feel like special guests in a posh hotel. After they had eaten the pudding, lemon meringue pie, they felt they couldn’t eat another mouthful.

  ‘That was super!’ said Cissie, when Janice came to collect the plates.

  ‘Yes, tell your mum how much we enjoyed it,’ added Val. ‘She’s the cook, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she does most of it,’ said Janice, ‘I know she’s a smashing cook. I’m trying to learn, but it’ll take ages before I’m as good as Mum … What are you two doing tonight? Going dancing? That’s what most of the girls do.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what we were thinking of,’ said Val. ‘We can’t decide, though. The Tower or the Winter Gardens. What would you say? I expect you’ve been to both, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I go occasionally. I prefer the Winter Gardens; the Tower can get a bit rowdy on a Saturday night, so they say. As a matter of fact, I’m going to the Gardens tonight. I’m meeting some friends there … but you can come along with me if you like. I’ll be going on the bus. It stops just across the road, so I can show you the way … that is if you want me to?’

  ‘Yes, course we do, thanks,’ said Val. ‘Don’t we, Cissie?’

  ‘Yeah, that’d be great. What time are you going?’

  ‘Well, when I’ve helped to clear away here, and got myself ready, I should say about a quarter to eight. Is that OK with you?’

  ‘Yes, sure it is.’

  ‘I’ll meet you in the hallway then. Mum’ll give you a front door key in case you’re late back. She’s not fussy about visitors coming in late, so long as they’re not drunk. Oh, sorry! I’m not suggesting …’

  Val laughed. ‘No, we know you’re not. We’re well behaved young ladies, aren’t we Cissie?’

  ‘We don’t get much chance to be any other,’ added Cissie. ‘No, we promise to be good.’

  ‘OK, I’ll see you later then.’

  They met as arranged at just before quarter to eight, the three of them ‘dolled up to the nines’, as Janice’s mum might say in their colourful summer dresses.

  Janice looked appraisingly at her two new friends. The two girls were unalike in looks. Valerie was dark-haired with warm brown eyes, and slim with a small face and elfin features. Her friend, Cissie, was just the opposite; fair and fluffy would be a good way to describe her. Wispy blonde hair framed a roundish face with big innocent-looking blue eyes. She was pleasantly plump, in contrast to her friend. Both of them, though, were very attractive girls.

  Val was clearly the more sensible and steady of the two, the one who would take the lead, if Cissie would listen to her! Those blue eyes were probably not as guileless as they seemed. Their dresses were similar in style with full skirts held out by can-can petticoats. Val’s dress was pink and white check with a large white collar, pretty and demure, such as the film star Debbie Reynolds might wear. Cissie’s, also, was a full-skirted style in a bright floral design with a tight-fitting bodice which showed off her ample curves, and a halter neckline.

  Janice felt that she looked just as good in her blue-and-white polka dot dress with the sweetheart neckline. She guessed that the other two girls, like herself, did not get the opportunity to dress up very often.

  ‘Ready?’ she said. ‘You look very nice, you two.’

  ‘So do you,’ they answered.

  They were all carrying white cardigans. ‘I think I’ll wear my cardy,’ said Val. ‘It might not be quite as warm now.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Janice, and they all donned their knitted cardigans. ‘We can leave them in the cloakroom. Handbags are a nuisance, though, aren’t they? And you daren’t leave them anywhere.’ They all had a smallish bag, just big enough to hold loose change, a hanky, a lipstick, comb and powder compact.

  ‘Off we go then,’ said Janice, leading the way out of the door then across the road to the bus stop.

  Mrs Butler had given the girls a key each – Janice, of course, had her own – in case they did not return together. She knew young girls only too well and trusted they would be careful, but she did not have the authority to put herself ‘in loco parentis’. She trusted Janice, and knew that she did not need to tell her to behave herself.

  Janice found herself walking with Val, whilst Cissie came along behind, teetering a little on her higher heels. ‘I always feel a l
ittle bit nervous, going dancing,’ she admitted to Val. ‘I don’t often go, you see, and I’m afraid I’ll be stuck there at the side of the ballroom like a wallflower. Girls dance together sometimes, but I always think it looks rather daft.’

  ‘I feel just the same,’ said Val, ‘though I don’t say so to Cissie. She’s always raring to go.’

  ‘Quite a live wire, is she?’

  ‘When she gets the chance.’ They were talking quietly, and Cissie seemed oblivious. ‘She’s got a steady boyfriend, at least he thinks so, but she isn’t so keen.’

  ‘And what about you, Val?’

  ‘Me? No, not at the moment.’ She laughed. ‘What about you, Janice?’

  ‘No. I went to an all-girls school, so there wasn’t any chance there to meet anybody. There was a lad at youth club, but it fizzled out. He’s away now, doing his national service, so that was that.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what happened to me, too,’ said Val.

  ‘What happened to you?’ asked Cissie, catching up with them.

  ‘I was just saying that when Neil joined the army, that was that.’

  ‘Good riddance!’ said Cissie. ‘Never mind. P’raps we’ll all get lucky tonight.’

  The cream and green bus soon arrived and they all got on. In less than ten minutes they were at the impressive entrance to the Winter Gardens. They paid their entrance money and entered the building through the Floral Hall which led to the various venues in the complex: the ballroom, the theatres, bars, cafes and amusement arcade.

  ‘Gosh! It’s like a park,’ exclaimed Cissie, gazing at the palms in large pots, the ferns and foliage which adorned the hall beneath the glass roof.

  Janice led them down a flight of stairs to the cloakroom where they stood in a queue to leave their cardigans in exchange for a little pink ticket, then went into the ladies’ to powder their noses, refresh their lipstick and tidy their hair.

  ‘Ready, girls?’ said Janice. She led the way through the ornate Indian lounge, up a flight of steps to the Empress ballroom. Both Cissie and Val gasped with astonishment when they set eyes on the rich red carpet, the red velvet chairs and settees against the walls, the marble pillars leading up to the balcony, where more rows of plush seats overlooked the ballroom floor, an intricate design of highly polished wooden blocks in mahogany, oak and walnut.