Janice caught sight of her friends, Jean and Kath, at the pillar on the right-hand side of the dance floor facing the stage where she had arranged to meet them.
‘Hi there,’ she greeted them. ‘I’ve brought two of our guests with me. Cissie … Val, this is Jean … and Kath.’ They all said hello and smiled at one another.
‘We’ve not been here very long,’ said Jean. ‘In fact, we’ve not had a dance yet.’
‘Seems as though there’s a lot of competition,’ remarked Val. ‘Gosh! I’ve never seen so many folk.’
‘It’ll get even more crowded later,’ said Janice.
There were, it seemed, hundreds of girls and older ladies – though not quite so many of those – similarly clad in bright colourful dresses, many of them standing in groups around the ballroom floor, just as their little group was doing. There were lots of men there, too, young men in the main, although the females outnumbered them.
Janice remembered, during the war years, that Blackpool had often been described as a ‘sea of air force blue’. The town had been a training ground for the RAF recruits. She vaguely remembered them being billeted at the boarding house. And now, ten years later, it could be described in a similar way. There were two large RAF camps in the outlying villages of Weeton and Warton, only a few miles from Blackpool, and this was where the national servicemen spent much of their leisure time. Indeed, they considered themselves lucky to be sent to such a place as the Fylde Coast with all the nearby attractions.
Many of the RAF lads were dancing and some were standing in groups. There were other young men, too, some dressed in conventional suits and ties, and others in more casual gear of sports coat and grey flannel trousers. There were also a few Teddy Boys, standing quietly and not making a nuisance of themselves. The majority of them, in fact, were well behaved on the whole, although they had a reputation for being rebellious. They wore long single-breasted jackets with padded shoulders and velvet trimming on the collars, narrow ‘drainpipe’ trousers, and white shirts with a shoe-string tie. There was a group of them standing not far away from the girls.
‘Don’t stare!’ Val admonished Cissie. ‘You don’t know what they might do.’
‘They’re harmless,’ said Cissie with a shrug.
‘How do you know? Look, there’s one coming over. Now look what you’ve done.’
The lad with the carefully coiffed hairstyle, known as a DA, was sauntering across, making a beeline for Cissie.
‘Care to dance?’ he asked in a casual voice, and she took to the floor with him. The band was playing Bill Haley’s ‘Rock Around the Clock’, and the other girls watched as Cissie tried to follow the rhythm in time with the lad’s feet, which were clad in shoes with thick crepe soles.
‘Trust Cissie!’ said Val. ‘I might’ve known she’d be the first one to dance. I hope we’re not going to stand here all night like a row of wallflowers.’
‘It’s early yet,’ said Janice. ‘I know what you mean, though. We should try and look as though we’re not bothered.’
They agreed that they would come back to this spot, provided they didn’t get a better offer! Although they didn’t put it in those exact words.
Cissie flounced back, not very taken with her partner. ‘I kept falling over his feet,’ she said. ‘Is it any wonder, in those brothel creepers!’ That was the name given to the heavy suede shoes.
Janice was feeling a little ill at ease, all of them standing around as though they were keen to get a fellow. Kath and Jean had decided to dance together. She was almost beginning to wish she hadn’t come when she heard a quiet voice at her side.
‘Would you like to dance with me?’ It was an RAF lad, smiling at her a little shyly and uncertainly. He had a friendly face, glossy mid-brown hair – short, of course, in the usual military style – and grey eyes that were looking at her questioningly. Janice felt at once that he was a nice, conventional sort of young man. She said yes to him without any hesitation.
She wasn’t an expert dancer but she could cope quite well with a waltz, and so, it seemed, could he. He put an arm around her and they started to dance to the strains of the ‘Tennessee Waltz’.
He spoke after a brief moment. ‘I’d better introduce myself. I’m Phil … Philip Grundy. And you are …?’
‘I’m Janice,’ she replied. ‘Janice Butler.’
‘Hello, Janice, Nice to meet you.’
‘Hello, Phil. Nice to meet you as well. You’re doing your national service, I suppose?’
‘Yes, that’s right. I’m stationed at Weeton camp. Not for much longer, though. I finish in September, then I’ll be going home.’
‘And that is … where?’
‘I’m from Yorkshire, just outside Ilkley. I’ll be going back to work with my father. He runs a guest house there; a sort of country pub.’
Janice smiled. ‘That’s interesting; quite a coincidence, really. My mother runs a boarding house – well, a small hotel, really – here in Blackpool. I’m working there at the moment, waitressing and helping out generally. And in September I shall be in Yorkshire. I’m off to university there, in Leeds.’
‘I’m impressed,’ he replied. ‘What are you reading?’
‘English Literature … but I don’t know what I shall do afterwards when I’ve got my degree. My parents are keen for me to go to uni, to have the chances they never had, Mum says, but I haven’t made my mind up yet about a career.’
‘I was training to be a chef,’ said Phil, ‘but then National Service broke into all that. I shall resume my studies, I suppose – just night school classes, you know – to bring me up to scratch.’
They were quiet for a little while, then Phil said, ‘I’m glad I plucked up courage to ask you to dance. I had noticed you, and I thought you looked just like I was feeling. A bit unsure, and wondering what on earth you were doing here.’
Janice laughed. ‘That’s exactly how I was feeling. I don’t often come here, not as often as some of my friends do, and I’ve come tonight with two girls who are staying at our hotel. So there were five of us standing around, trying to look nonchalant.’
‘Yes, I know what you mean. I sometimes come here on a Saturday night with my mates, or else to the Tower – I like to listen to Reginald Dixon on the organ – but I’m not as eager for the bright lights as some of my mates are. Oh dear! I sound dreadfully dull, don’t I?’
‘Not at all,’ she answered truthfully.
A discordant note brought the dance to an end. Phil smiled tentatively at Janice. ‘Shall we … er … I’d like to go on talking to you. And I don’t want to dance all the time. Shall we … would you like to go for a drink?’
‘Yes, thank you. That would be very nice,’ she replied.
They walked together to the corner where Janice had left her friends. Cissie was standing there looking rather cross, and Jean and Kath were just returning from their dance together. Val was nowhere to be seen.
‘I’m just going to … this is Phil … and we’re just going to have a drink together,’ said Janice, feeling a little embarrassed. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she added to Cissie. ‘We’ll go home together, the three of us.’
Cissie shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll be OK.’ She sounded rather peeved, probably because all the others had been dancing, but Janice felt sure she would not be standing there much longer without a partner.
Just after Janice went off to dance with the RAF lad, another young man came and asked Val if she would dance with him. She recognized him at once, but decided not to say so, not straight away. Better to see how it turned out. She was pretty sure, though, that he did not know who she was.
‘Hello,’ he said in a friendly way, as they started to move around the dance floor. ‘I’m Sam … Samuel Walker, but most people call me Sam.’
‘Hello,’ she said, rather wary of calling him Sam, although there was no reason why she should not do so. ‘I’m Val, short for Valerie, of course … Val Horrocks.’
‘Are
you on holiday, Val?’ he asked her.
‘Yes, we only arrived today, me and my friend. We’re here for a week.’
‘The same as I am then,’ he replied. ‘I’m here just for the week … And unless I’m very much mistaken, we are both from the same neck of the woods. Am I right in assuming you’re a Yorkshire lass?’
‘Yes, dyed-in-the-wool Yorkshire, same as all my family.’ She laughed. ‘I can’t really disguise it, can I? Not that I would want to.’
‘No, why should you? There’s nowt wrong wi’ a Yorkshire accent,’ he said, in a rather exaggerated way, although his voice, though somewhat more refined than her own, did have a trace of the northern harshness and flattened vowel sounds. ‘I’m from Halifax, actually, and you can’t get much more Yorkshire than that.’
Val decided that she must dissemble no longer. ‘Yes … I know you are,’ she said, ‘I’m from Halifax as well. I work at Walker’s mill. I’m in the office there, but I realize that you don’t know me. There’s no reason why you should.’
He gasped. ‘Oh dear! I’m so sorry. How dreadful … Of course I should know you; do forgive me.’ He looked down at her – he was several inches taller than Val’s five foot three – with a concerned look in his hazel brown eyes.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, although she was aware that it was not the way to speak to one of the bosses. ‘You don’t come into our office, do you? Only occasionally, maybe. It’s your brother who sometimes deals with the correspondence. I’ve met him because he dictates letters for me to take down.’
‘Yes, that’s Jonathan’s job, he has far more to do with the administration and the dispatching of orders. I’m more involved with the wool buying, and I’m out of the mill quite a lot. Anyway, I’m very pleased to meet you now, Val.’ He sounded as though he meant it. He had a lovely smile and his eyes glowed with warmth. He was a good-looking young man – she had always thought so when she had seen him, briefly, and on rare occasions – with golden brown hair, almost the same colour as his eyes.
Val knew that there were two brothers, the sons of Joshua Walker who owned the mill. Jonathan was the elder, and the one who would take over the reins when his father retired, or so the employees assumed. Walker’s was a smallish mill compared with many in the area, but it had a good reputation for high-quality cloth. It had been started by Joshua’s grandfather, and handed down from father to son. The owners had always been renowned for their fairness and honesty; the workers were treated well and there were rarely any complaints. But the fact remained that Samuel Walker was one of Val’s bosses, and she was conscious of that as she danced with him.
‘Where are you staying?’ he asked. ‘I’m in the part they call North Shore.’
‘Yes, so am I,’ replied Val. ‘It’s a small hotel called Florabunda in a street just off the prom. Where is your hotel?’
‘It’s called the Carlton. It’s on a corner of the promenade and Dickson Road. Very comfortable and homely; not too lah-di-dah, if you know what I mean.’
She laughed. ‘Yes, I think I do. The Carlton … that’s the cream painted one we passed on our way to the pier this afternoon. So you’re only just round the corner.’ She stopped talking suddenly, in case he was thinking she was being too familiar, dropping a hint, maybe, about them meeting again. That, of course, would be out of the question.
He smiled at her. ‘Well, that’s handy, isn’t it?’
She looked down, feeling a little embarrassed. Then she asked. ‘Are you staying there with your brother?’
‘Oh, goodness me, no!’ he answered. ‘My brother and I …’ The music stopped at that moment and all the couples stood there clapping, wondering if the band would start up again. But it seemed that it was time for a short break. ‘Let’s go on talking,’ said Sam Walker. ‘I’m so pleased to have met you. Shall we go and have a drink?’
‘Are you sure?’ she asked, hesitantly.
‘Of course I’m sure,’ he replied with a chuckle. ‘I wouldn’t ask you if I wasn’t sure. That is, if you would like to?’
‘Yes … yes, I would. Thank you.’
‘That’s great then.’ To her surprise he took hold of her hand as they left the dance floor and they walked to the bar area in the adjoining lounge. ‘Now, what would you like?’ he asked as they sat down on the red velvet bench at the back of the room.
Val was nonplussed for a moment. She didn’t often drink and was not sure what to ask for. ‘Oh … a shandy, I think,’ she replied. ‘Just a small one. Lager with lemonade … no, lager and lime, that’s what I’ll have, thank you.’ She had heard people ask for that, and it sounded as though she knew what was what.
He smiled. ‘OK then, coming up. You stay right there, Val. I won’t be long.’
Val glanced around at the others in the bar area, mostly couples, several of the men in RAF uniform. In a far corner she noticed Janice with the RAF lad who had asked her to dance. They were deep in conversation. Val wondered if she had known him before or if they had only just met. However it was, they looked very matey together. And what about herself, Valerie Horrocks, hobnobbing with one of the bosses from the mill? Who would have thought it?
Sam was soon back with her greenish-yellow drink in a small glass, and a pint of light ale for himself, brimming over at the top. ‘There we are,’ he said, sitting down next to her. ‘Cheers, Val …’ He lifted his glass and she did the same.
‘Yes … cheers,’ she replied.
He looked at her quizzically. ‘My name’s Sam,’ he said. ‘Please call me Sam!’
‘Oh, alright then. Cheers, Sam,’ she said.
He smiled and nodded. ‘That’s better. As I said, I’m really pleased to have met you, and I’d like to know more about you.’
‘There’s not very much to know,’ she replied. ‘I’ve worked at Walker’s mill since I was fifteen, that’s four years ago. My father works there, too, he’s a supervisor in the packing department. And my mother worked there at one time. That’s probably why I got the office job. I know it helps if you have relatives there.’
‘Yes, my father believes in rewarding loyal service. But you must have given a good impression at your interview, and I’m sure you’re very good at your job … Do you enjoy it? You can tell the truth, you don’t have to pretend!’
‘Yes, I do enjoy it,’ she replied. ‘Well, maybe enjoy is not the right word. It’s rather repetitive; just facts and figures, but I know I’m good at it, though I say it myself, and I’m lucky to have a steady job with a good firm. I wouldn’t like to think I’d be doing it forever, though.’
‘No, I know what you mean, but I’m sure you won’t be. Tell me other things though, not about work. Who did you come here with this week? You said you’re with a friend.’
‘Yes, Cissie, she works in the burling and mending room. She started at the same time as me. She tries to pretend she’s a bit dim, you know, because I work in the office, but she’s not at all; just a bit scatterbrained. We’re good friends and we’ve known one another since we were in infant school.’
Janice, at the other end of the room caught sight of Val, and they waved to one another.
‘Is that Cissie?’ asked Sam.
‘Oh no, that’s Janice. She works at the hotel. Cissie and I only met her today, and she came along with us tonight. When I say she works there, I mean it’s only just for now. She’s going to university in September.’
‘It seems as though she’s got friendly with one of the RAF lads, unless she knew him already.’
‘I don’t think so. She said that she had a boyfriend, but it fizzled out when he went to do his national service. That often happens …’
‘It happened to you, did it, Val?’ Sam looked at her questioningly.
‘Well, sort of …’
‘And … there’s no one that you’re seeing at the moment?’
‘No. No one at all.’
Sam nodded, as though he was pleased at her answer. ‘Yes, national service can cause havoc sometimes
, getting in the way of relationships, and interrupting your training.’
‘Did you do national service … Sam?’
‘Yes, I was called up when I was eighteen, in 1950.’ A quick calculation told Val that he must be twenty-three now, four years older than herself. ‘I’d started working at the mill. My father insisted that I must have experience in all the procedures before I was ready to be … well, one of the management.’
‘I would have thought you’d be exempt from the army, working at the mill?’
‘No, not anymore. It was considered a reserved occupation for some, during the war, but not now. I must admit I enjoyed it. I served in Germany for a while. It was quite an experience, and I’m glad I didn’t miss it. My brother, Jonathan, he didn’t have to go. He’s five years older than me, so he didn’t fit into the age group. A pity really … It might have done him some good, knocked a few corners off him! He’s not very good at mixing with the … er … ordinary folk.’
Val looked at him inquiringly.
‘My brother and I don’t get on too well. I was just about to tell you when you asked if I was with him this week. No, definitely not! He’s in Scarborough with his fiancée and her parents. They’re getting married next spring.’
‘Oh … I see. And what about your father? You get on well with him, do you?’ Val wondered if she should be asking such a personal question, but Sam was so easy to talk to, and he seemed to want to tell her.
‘Oh yes, my father’s OK. There’s nothing pretentious about Dad, even though he’s the head of the business. He’s very much a man of the world. Well, you probably know that, don’t you? He likes to be fair with his employees and treat them as though he really cares about them.’
Val nodded. ‘Yes, he’s always very pleasant when you see him.’ Not that she saw much of Joshua Walker. He was a very busy man, but he made time to have a word now and then, to make his workers feel as though they mattered. She knew what Sam meant about his brother, Jonathan. She had never liked him. He was brusque and stand-offish. She felt much more at ease when he sent one of his underlings to dictate a letter rather than do it himself. She would not tell Sam, though, that she had no time for his elder brother. He had probably divulged too much already.
One Week in August Page 6