One Week in August

by Margaret Thornton

  Mrs Butler came into the lounge in a little while to see if anyone would like a suppertime drink. Tea, coffee, hot chocolate and biscuits were available at a nominal charge. The girls both requested chocolate, and Janice brought them their drinks with custard cream biscuits a few moments later. They chatted together for a while about the films and records they liked, and the latest fashions – all sorts of ‘girly’ things that they found they had in common.

  ‘She’s nice, isn’t she?’ Cissie commented to Val when they returned to their bedroom. ‘Quite normal. You’d never think she was such a brainbox – university an’ all that.’

  ‘I get the impression she’s not really bothered about going,’ said Val. ‘It’s her parents who want her to go. Of course she’s got this new boyfriend now, and he lives in Yorkshire. So that might make a difference to how she feels.’

  ‘If it lasts,’ commented Cissie.

  ‘She seems to think it will …’ But what about herself and Sam Walker? thought Val. They had liked one another straight away and had got on famously, but she knew she must not get her hopes up too much. How could there possibly be a future for the two of them when they returned home?

  The following morning they rode on a tram to the Pleasure Beach at the far southern end of the promenade. The fine sunny weather was continuing, and there was already, by midmorning, a good crowd of holidaymakers strolling around, some eating ice cream and candyfloss, and all enjoying the fun of the fairground. Val and Cissie mingled with them, savouring the sights and sounds, and the scents that lingered on the air; the odour of fried onions from the hotdog stalls, the sickly sweet scent of candyfloss and the smell of the diesel oil from the mechanical rides.

  ‘What shall we do first?’ said Cissie. ‘Shall we see if we can knock that chap into the water?’

  ‘No, we’d never do it,’ replied Val. ‘We’d only waste our money, but we can stop and watch for a while if you like.’ A man was seated on a plank above a bath of water whilst eager folk, mainly men, threw balls at a target above his head. They watched for a few minutes until, at last, a ball hit the target and the poor chap fell into the water, to the cheers of the onlookers. There was a nominal prize for the winner, and the stooge, dressed in waterproof clothing and none the worse for his dipping, climbed back on to his seat.

  There were easier feats of skill. Cissie won a miniature model of Blackpool Tower by rolling balls into holes. She seemed pleased with her prize, but Val was more discerning and careful with her money.

  ‘Let’s go in the River Caves,’ she suggested, anxious to lure Cissie away from the money wasting sideshows.

  They sat together in a boat which glided through the water, propelled by an unseen source, through scenes of exotic delight – eastern temples, snow-capped mountains, verdant forests and jungles – if you didn’t look too closely at the plasterwork and the paintwork. The last scene was the Blue Grotto, which shone with an eery blue light, illuminating the glaciers and the shimmering ice all around them.

  They came out blinking in the brilliant sunshine, as their eyes adjusted to the light. They dined at midday, sitting on a bench in the shade, on ham rolls and a bag of chips, and bottles of fizzy lemonade.

  Cissie wanted to ride on the Big Dipper, but Val said that it would not be a good idea until their lunch had settled. Outside the Fun House they stood with a small crowd watching the Laughing Man. A huge figure of a clown was seated inside a glass booth, rocking from side to side with laughter, his eyes rolling and a fixed grin on his face. His cries of ‘Ho, ho, ho!’ could be heard from far away, and you could not help but smile, too, at his merriment. He was an advert for the Fun House, and they decided to see what was inside.

  There were draughty corridors where a gust of wind blew your skirt up around your waist, wobbly walkways, ghosts and ghouls lurking in dark corners, and halls of mirrors which distorted your figure, making you appear short and fat or tall and thin.

  The climax of the day was the Big Dipper. Cissie was raring to go, Val rather more timorous as they sat, strapped firmly into their seats and grasping tightly to the bar in front of them. Then they were off, slowly up the first incline, then rushing downwards with the wind blowing their hair and their stomachs turning somersaults as shrieks of delighted laughter burst uncontrollably from their mouths. They were used to the sensation after the first descent and entered wholeheartedly into the thrill of the ride.

  They came off feeling shaky and light-headed, laughing with the sheer delight of being on holiday in such an exciting place. They drank a cup of strong tea to settle their stomachs and their nerves before boarding the tram back to North Shore.

  ‘We’ve had a great time,’ they told Janice, as she served their meal of haddock and chips.

  ‘Have you ever been on the Big Dipper?’ asked Cissie.

  Janice admitted that she hadn’t, that residents didn’t always sample all the attractions of their own town. ‘What are you doing tonight?’ she asked.

  ‘We thought we might go to the pictures,’ said Val. ‘There are lots of cinemas, aren’t there?’

  ‘Dozens,’ said Janice, ‘and there’s the Imperial round the corner, only a few minutes’ walk away. I think there’s a Doris Day film on this week.’

  ‘Smashing!’ said Val. ‘Would you like to come with us, if you’re not too busy?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ said Janice, ‘but it’ll be a little while before I’m ready.’

  ‘It’s OK, we’ll wait,’ said Cissie.

  It was a continuous programme, so they managed to see the Gaumont British News and the second showing of On Moonlight Bay.

  ‘Thanks for your company, once again,’ said Janice. ‘It’s ages since I was out so often in the evening. Saturday and Monday, and Phil has rung to ask me to meet him on Thursday. Things are certainly looking up for me!’ She had believed she was contented with her lot, but life was beginning to be much more exciting.

  SEVEN

  Tuesday morning dawned bright and sunny. It was amazing how the fine weather was continuing. Val and Cissie had no definite plans for the day. Val was trying to hide her excitement and a certain amount of trepidation as she looked forward to seeing Sam again that evening. Would he be pleased to see her again, or might he have changed his mind and decided that it was not quite right to be associating with a girl who was one of his father’s employees?

  They decided to have a good mooch around the Blackpool shops which were far larger and more exciting than the ones at home. They walked into the town as they had all the time in the world to please themselves; and what a relief that was, to be free, if only for a week, from the strictures of a job and, in Cissie’s case, the petty grievances of living at home.

  The small shops along Dickson Road, leading to the town, were such as you might find in any seaside resort. Local hairdressers, newsagents, greengrocers, confectioners and souvenir shops selling comic postcards and views of the area, buckets and spades, sun hats and suncream, and all the requisites for a day on the beach. They passed the cream-coloured Art Deco-style Odeon cinema near to North Station before turning into Talbot Road and the town centre.

  The town seemed large to them, but they knew they could not get lost because ahead of them was the promenade and a view of the sands and the sea. There were shops such as Sally Mae’s, Diana Warren’s, and the American Dress Shop where girls like Val and Cissie could only window shop and walk away again. There were two large Marks and Spencer stores, though, and a Littlewoods where the clothes on sale were more within their budget.

  Val didn’t really need any more blouses, but she was tempted by a bright pink one with a wide neckline almost, but not quite, off the shoulder; it would tone very nicely with the pink flowers on her full skirt that she intended to wear that evening.

  ‘That’s just your colour. It’ll go lovely with your dark hair,’ said Cissie. Not to be outdone she bought a sleeveless blue blouse with wide shoulder straps which Val said would match exactly the colour of her eyes.<
br />
  ‘I’ve nobody to dress up for, like you,’ she commented, ‘but you never know your luck, do you?’

  The large department store, RHO Hills, situated opposite the back entrance to the Tower was a delight to all the senses. There was an exquisite fragrance, as you entered, from the counters selling perfumes, powder and all manner of beauty products. In the basement were the more mundane household goods, and sales persons demonstrating the latest in vegetable cutters, knives and magic liquid to remove stains from clothing. On the first floor there were stylish coats, dresses and hats. Assistants lurked at every corner asking, ‘Can I help you, madam?’, so they did not spend any time or money there. On the floor above was the carpet and furniture department and, over that, the restaurant. It was a store in which they could only look and linger for a while.

  The snack bar in Woolworths suited their pockets for a midday meal of sausage rolls and iced buns. And the merchandise, too, was affordable. The impressive cream and red store on a corner by the Tower was huge compared with their tiny little Woolies at home and they were amazed at the vast variety of goods on sale. They both treated themselves to a lipstick, eyeshadow and mascara.

  They walked back along the prom instead of through the town. There was plenty of time before the evening meal to get ready for their visit to the Tower. All they would need to do after their meal was put the finishing touches to their hair and make-up.

  ‘Enjoy yourselves tonight,’ said Janice as she cleared the table. She was having a quiet evening at home, looking forward to seeing Phil again in a day of two.

  Sam had arranged to meet Val at the front entrance to the Tower at eight o’clock. She and Cissie took a tram along the promenade, then crossed the tramtrack and the busy road to the meeting place. Val was feeling slightly apprehensive, butterflies fluttering away in her tummy as she wondered whether Sam might have changed his mind about seeing her again. Supposing it had been an impulsive, spur of the moment idea and he had thought better of it? What a fool she would feel if he didn’t turn up! She knew that Cissie, too, was feeling anxious. Val had not voiced her own fears, and neither had her friend, but Cissie had gone very quiet and appeared ill at ease.

  ‘You won’t want me tagging along,’ she had said at first when Val told her about the proposed meeting.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Val had protested. ‘I told him that you would be with me, that I didn’t intend leaving you on your own, and he said of course I mustn’t do that. He said he’d bring his friends along with him, so there’ll be quite a few of us.’

  When they arrived at the Tower entrance Val saw, to her relief, that Sam had meant what he said. He was there, lifting his hand to her in greeting, and with him were two other young men.

  ‘Hello again, Val,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t stand me up!’ Val just smiled, she couldn’t think of a reply. ‘This is my friend, Cissie,’ she said.

  ‘Hello, Cissie,’ said Sam. ‘I’m Sam Walker.’

  ‘Yes … I know,’ answered Cissie, almost in a whisper, not at all like her usual self.

  ‘And these are my mates, Jeff and Colin,’ said Sam. They all smiled and said ‘Hello’ but did not shake hands.

  ‘OK then, let’s go in,’ said Sam.

  Val took out her purse to pay her entrance fee, but Sam stopped her. ‘No, I’m paying for you and for Cissie. I asked you to come, didn’t I?’

  Val might have expected her friend to say that she could pay for herself, but Cissie just said, ‘Thank you,’ in a quiet voice.

  The girls left their jackets in the cloakroom then went to join the men.

  ‘There you are, you see,’ Val said to her. ‘I told you it’d be OK. Those two, Jeff and Colin, they seem nice and friendly.’

  Cissie shrugged. ‘They’re alright, I suppose.’

  Her air of nonchalance seemed to subside, however, when Jeff and Colin walked one on each side of her, chatting in a friendly way. And she and Val both stopped in their tracks, staring in awe and wonder when they entered the ballroom.

  ‘Gosh! I thought the Winter Gardens ballroom was amazing,’ exclaimed Val, ‘but this, it’s just … magical!’

  The ballroom was, indeed, breathtaking, especially if you were seeing it for the first time. The vastly proportioned room had been designed in the French Renaissance style. At the end of the room was a large stage with words from Shakespeare inscribed on the proscenium arch above, ‘Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear.’ Above the lettering was a classical painting, and other similar paintings of idyllic Arcadian scenes – shepherds and shepherdesses, frock-coated gentlemen and crinolined ladies – decorated the ceiling. The two gilded balconies above the dance floor were supported by massive pillars. The ballroom floor was a work of art in itself, composed of highly polished wooden blocks of varying shades in an intricate design; and shining down on the scene was the light cast by huge crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling. Truly a scene from fairyland.

  The focal point on the stage was the Wonder Wurlitzer organ. Seated at the keyboard – four keyboards to be exact – was the resident organist, Reginald Dixon, the man who was known as Mr Blackpool. An unassuming-looking man, slightly built and wearing a light-coloured lounge suit, he was half turned, smiling at the dancers on the floor as they stood there applauding. Then he struck up with his famous signature tune, ‘Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside’, following that with the popular, ‘Mister Sandman’.

  ‘Shall we dance?’ said Sam to Val, and they took to the floor.

  ‘Now, which of us is going to have the pleasure of dancing with this lovely young lady?’ said Colin, the taller, dark-haired one.

  ‘I don’t mind if I do,’ answered Jeff, who was fair-haired and shorter than his friend. ‘Shall we dance, Cissie?’

  ‘Don’t feel you’ve got to dance with me, just because I’ve come along with Val,’ she told him, as they stepped out to the rhythm of the quickstep. ‘She’d got this date with Sam, y’see. It seems funny calling him Sam – well, I don’t think I dare, actually. He’s Mr Walker to us ’cause he’s one of the bosses at the mill. He must’ve told you how he met Val, but he didn’t know she worked there, not at first. I’m a bit worried about it actually. I’ve told her not to get carried away, like.’

  ‘You don’t need to worry about Sam,’ said Jeff. ‘He’s as honest as the day is long. He won’t lead her up the garden path, if that’s what you’re afraid of. If he’s with Val it’s because he genuinely likes her.’

  ‘Oh … well, I’m glad about that.’

  ‘There’s nothing snobbish about Sam, nor his dad for that matter. It’s his snooty brother, Jonathan, that I can’t stand. He looks down his nose at us lesser mortals, just because his dad’s a mill owner. Maybe I’m speaking out of turn, he’s one of your bosses, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, but we don’t know any of ’em really. Val knows Mr Jonathan a bit better ’cause she works in the office. Me, I just work in t’mill, in the mending room, tidying up the mistakes in the cloth. How do you know … er … Sam then?’

  ‘We were at school together, the three of us were always good pals. I left, though, when I was sixteen. I didn’t get very good results in my School Certificate, not like the other two. Anyway, I got a job at the Co-op in town; I’m one of the undermanagers now, so I can’t complain. And Colin works for an insurance company. We’ve stayed together, us three, through thick and thin.’

  ‘Like Val and me, we’ve known each other since we were four years old. She’s cleverer than me, but it makes no difference … Anyway, thanks for dancing with me,’ she said, as the music came to an end and the dancers left the floor.

  ‘It’s been a pleasure, Cissie,’ he replied courteously. He might not have the social standing of his friend, Sam, but he was polite and well spoken.

  The five of them stayed together for a while. Colin asked Cissie to dance next, and when they all returned to the spot where they had been standing Sam suggested that they might go and hav
e a drink. Cissie was beginning to feel a little ill at ease with the situation. The two young men were being very attentive. Jeff had insisted on buying the shandy she was drinking, but she felt that they might be there only because they were being polite. She had an idea that they would rather go off together and see what the talent was like elsewhere.

  They all returned to the ballroom, to a different spot near to the stage. Val and Sam appeared to be getting along famously, chatting together as though they had known one another for ages. Jeff and Colin, too, were deep in conversation, about football from what she could hear, and the chances for Halifax Town in the coming season. So, for a little while she was standing on her own feeling a little lost and wishing she were somewhere else, but she wasn’t quite sure where.

  ‘Would you care to dance?’ said a voice at her side.

  ‘Yes, I don’t mind,’ she replied before she had even looked at him closely. She was only too relieved that someone – anyone – had noticed her and asked her to dance.

  When she looked more closely she saw that he was a young man with very fair tousled hair, blue eyes that were looking at her keenly, and a cheerful grin. ‘You were looking all lost and on your owny-own,’ he said. ‘I just had to come and rescue you.’

  ‘I’m quite alright,’ she answered pertly, although she was, in fact, very grateful to him. ‘I don’t need rescuing. I was just enjoying the music.’

  ‘Aye, Reginald Dixon. He’s jolly good, isn’t he?’ said the young man. The organist was playing a catchy tune dating back to the wartime era, ‘Yes, My Darling Daughter’. ‘I must say this place has got our local dance halls beat to a cocked hat.’

  ‘And that would be in Yorkshire, I take it?’ said Cissie. She had recognized his accent immediately.

  ‘Aye, it takes one to know one, doesn’t it?’ he replied with a chuckle. ‘I’m from Bradford, and I reckon you’re from my neck of the woods an’ all, aren’t you?’