One Week in August

by Margaret Thornton

  Another ‘free’ attraction was the Childrens’ Ballet which was performed every afternoon and early evening in the ballroom.

  ‘Shall we give it a try?’ said Val. There was already quite a crowd of people sitting on seats, with eager children sitting on the floor at the front, waiting for the performance to start.

  ‘If you like,’ said Cissie. ‘I suppose we might as well. They’ll all be posh kids, though, won’t they, prancing about? Not the likes of you and me.’

  Neither Val nor Cissie had been to dancing lessons – tap or ballet – such as just a few of their school friends had done. Neither family had been able to afford such a luxury. Cissie had always scoffed that it was showing off, ‘prancing about like that’, but Val, secretly, would like to have had the chance.

  They watched the performance by local children, mainly girls, from dancing schools in the area as they went through their routines of tap, ballet and ballroom dancing. There seemed to be as many as a hundred of them in a highly polished show, and the appreciative audience applauded and cheered with enthusiasm.

  ‘It was OK, I suppose,’ said Cissie as they made their way back to the hotel. ‘Rather them than me, though. It looks like jolly hard work for kids. But happen it’s better than being at school, eh? It’s a school holiday now, but I wonder what happens when they go back?’

  ‘Perhaps it finishes then,’ said Val. ‘We’ve another show to look forward to tonight, and that should be even better.’

  The show at Blackpool’s Opera House prided itself on being the biggest and best that the town had to offer. The ‘Big Show of 1955’, as it was called, was indeed the most sparkling and scintillating performance that Val and Cissie had ever seen. Janice had seen it in previous years, but she, too, said that this one surpassed many of the others.

  It was presented by George and Alfred Black, well-known impresarios, with the comedians Jewel and Warriss, well-known Blackpool comedians, topping the bill. The singer Alma Cogan was another popular star in the town; then there were the John Tiller girls, familiar to many from their television performances, dancing and high-kicking in perfect precision; and the Flying de Pauls, making the audience gasp in fright and admiration at their daredevil manoeuvres on the high wire and trapeze.

  ‘Gosh! That was fantastic,’ said Val as they stepped out into the darkness of the night. They decided to walk back as it was still a warm evening.

  ‘Only two days left of our holiday,’ said Cissie. ‘It’s flying past, isn’t it? But in some ways it feels as if we’ve been here for ages.’

  ‘Yes, a lot has happened,’ said Val, thinking of her meeting with Sam.

  ‘I’ll say it has,’ agreed Cissie.

  ‘And for me, too,’ added Janice. ‘I feel as though I’ve known you two for ages. I’ll be sorry when you have to leave on Saturday. We’ll keep in touch, won’t we? I’ll write to you both.’

  ‘I’m not much of a letter writer,’ admitted Cissie, ‘but Val will write, won’t you, Val?’

  ‘Yes, of course. And there’s always next year. We might come again …’ Val was wondering, though, what the next year would have in store for them, especially in the near future when they returned home.

  ‘And we all have something to look forward to tomorrow,’ said Janice. ‘I’m not seeing Phil until the evening, but you two have plans for the day, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, not sure what, though,’ said Cissie. ‘What about you, Val?’

  ‘No, I don’t know either; but we’ll meet up for our evening meals, you and me, won’t we, Cissie?’

  ‘Of course we will! I’m not going to miss one of Mrs Butler’s slap-up meals for any bloke!’ said her friend.

  Janice laughed. ‘I’ll tell my mum what you said. She’ll be real pleased. Anyway … here we are, back home.’ She opened the door for them. ‘Goodnight, you two. Thanks for asking me to go with you. We’ve had a great evening, and I’ve enjoyed your company.’

  ‘And yours, too,’ said Val. ‘Goodnight, Janice …’

  ‘She’s nice, isn’t she?’ said Cissie as they went up the stairs. ‘A bit posh, like, but I’m glad we met her.’

  Cissie met Jack, as arranged, outside the North Pier at ten o’clock. She had wondered if he might have decided not to come after she had put a stop to his advances the night before. But she was relieved to see that he was already there, waving to her as she approached, the sun glinting on his mop of fair hair.

  ‘Hi there, Cissie,’ he called. ‘I’m glad you’ve come. I thought you might have changed your mind.’

  ‘No, why should I?’ she retorted.

  ‘Dunno … but I’m glad you’re here. There’s a tram coming, an’ it’s going to Fleetwood. It’s a double-decker an’ all. Let’s go up to the top, then we can see more.’

  It was a pleasant ride along the coast to the fishing port of Fleetwood, some four miles or so away. On their left the tide was receding and holidaymakers were already putting up deckchairs on the rippled sand, children were making sand pies and some were paddling in rock pools left by the ebbing tide.

  A little way beyond the Norbreck Hotel the tram went inland towards the resort of Cleveleys, a pleasant place to shop and where some visitors stayed rather than in Blackpool itself.

  They alighted in Fleetwood, near to the lighthouse which was a little way inland. The town, away from the sea front, did not have the enticing shops or the busy holiday feeling that Blackpool had. They passed by the railway station and the pier and on to the dock area.

  ‘Pooh! It’s a bit niffy, isn’t it?’ said Cissie, wrinkling her nose.

  ‘What d’you expect?’ said Jack, laughing. ‘It’s a fishing port.’

  Fishing boats were being unloaded, and on the promenade were stalls selling white fish as well as shrimps, cockles and mussels. Further along the sea front, a little way away from the town, there was a pleasant park area with a lake, but the place did not have the bustle or the excitement that Blackpool had.

  ‘There’s nowt much here,’ Jack observed, when they had strolled around for a while. ‘An’ I’m feeling hungry. At least we should be able to find a decent fish and chip shop here. Come on, let’s go back to t’ town.’

  They did find such a place, fish and chips to take out or to eat in the small cafe at the back. ‘Let’s be posh and go inside,’ said Jack. ‘I don’t want to get me hands all greasy.’

  They dined handsomely on battered cod which almost overhung the plates, chips and mushy peas, with bread and butter and tea included in the price of two shillings.

  Ships left from the dock at Fleetwood bound for the Isle of Man, a popular day trip if you had the time, or for a longer holiday. There was also a ferryboat which crossed the estuary of the River Wyre to the small village of Knott End. There were a few people waiting for the boat, and as it seemed to be ‘the thing to do’ when you came to Fleetwood Jack and Cissie joined the queue.

  It was a five-minute journey across the water, and the ferryboat landed them near a long stretch of featureless promenade. ‘There’s nowt much here,’ Jack remarked, as he had done earlier.

  The shops behind the prom had little to offer either. ‘Must be the last place God made …’ he muttered. ‘Ne’er mind, eh?’ He put an arm round Cissie as they strolled back to catch the ferry. ‘We’re enjoying ourselves, aren’t we? Can I see you again tonight?’

  She hesitated for a moment. ‘I’m not sure. It depends what Val’s doing.’

  ‘She’s got herself fixed up with that posh chap, hasn’t she?’ said Jack. ‘He’s sure to want to see her tonight.’

  ‘Well, yes, probably he will …’

  ‘You’ll see me then? Please say you will, Cissie.’

  ‘Alright then. It’ll be half past seven, though, by the time I’m ready.’

  ‘That’s OK. We could go to the pictures. There’s a little cinema called the Tivoli, not far from North Pier. Shall I meet you there, at the pier, at eight o’clock? Then we can go and see what’s showing.’<
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  Cissie agreed, and they made their return journey on the tram. They parted at North Pier. Jack kissed her cheek, then he pulled her towards him and kissed her lips. ‘You’re a smashing girl, Cissie,’ he said. ‘See you later, then.’

  He walked off along the prom in a southerly direction, and she crossed the tramtrack and the road to Talbot Square. She noticed the Tivoli that Jack had mentioned, a tiny cinema tucked away in an arcade. She guessed that the films they showed there would not be the up-to-date ones. She was right. The poster outside portrayed Marilyn Monroe in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, which was at least two years old. Cissie had already seen it, but she wouldn’t mind seeing it again.

  She had decided that she liked Jack. She had enjoyed herself today, and Jack, who was fun to be with, had certainly given an added spice to the holiday. He had said that they must see one another when they got back home. Bradford was not very far from Halifax. But that remained to be seen. She, of course, had made no mention of Walter. She would worry about that when the time came.

  Val was already back at the hotel, sitting on the bed, reading. ‘Hi there, Cissie,’ she greeted her. ‘Had a good day?’

  ‘Yes, smashing, thanks. We went to Fleetwood and had fish and chips, and went on a funny little ferryboat across the river. It was good fun, thanks to Jack. We get on real well, Val, an’ he makes me laugh. We didn’t reckon much to Fleetwood, but it doesn’t matter, does it, when you’re with somebody you like? What about you? How did you get on with Sam?’

  ‘We’ve had a lovely time,’ replied Val, looking very starry-eyed. ‘Like I told you before, Cissie, he’s really nice, not at all stuck-up like his brother. He says he doesn’t get on with Jonathan. I’m not surprised. I always thought he was high and mighty, looking down his nose at the likes of us. Sam’s so different … He wants to see me tonight,’ she added, a trifle anxiously, ‘and I’ve said I will. I hope that’s OK with you?’

  Cissie laughed. ‘Course it is. I’m seeing Jack an’ all. We’ll probably go to the pictures. I thought you’d have made other plans. So … what have you been doing all day?’

  ‘We went to Stanley Park,’ said Val. ‘I know it might not sound very exciting. It’s quiet up there, and rather more refined, I suppose, than the rest of Blackpool.’

  ‘More suited to folk like your Sam, you mean?’

  ‘No, that’s not what I meant at all. It’s quieter, though, more peaceful. It’s good to get away from the crowds for a while. It’s like being in the countryside. We had a lovely day.’

  Sam had suggested Stanley Park which was in a residential area not too far from the town centre, in a part of Blackpool that Val recognized as being more middle-class. Sam played golf on the course there, and wanted to have a look round the park to which it belonged.

  ‘We’ll have to go on the bus, I’m afraid,’ he said to Val. ‘I left my car at home this week. It’s only a small car, a Morris Minor, and we all had so much luggage with the golf clubs and everything, so we decided to come on the train.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ said Val. ‘I’m used to travelling on buses, when I need to. But that’s not very often. I live near to town, and Cissie and I walk to work’

  They alighted from the bus near to Blackpool’s Victoria Hospital. Sam knew there was a side entrance to the park further up the road, which was one of the tree-lined drives surrounding the park. The path led them through an area of parkland with overhanging trees and stretches of well-tended grassy areas, with park benches where one could rest awhile in the peaceful countrified surroundings. It was quite early in the morning, so they encountered no one else on their walk. Sam put his arm around her, drawing her close to him.

  ‘I meant what I said, you know,’ he told her, ‘about us seeing one another when we get back home.’

  He had mentioned it on Tuesday evening when they were at the Tower Ballroom, and that night he had kissed her when they parted. ‘I know you feel rather … what shall I say?… unsure about it, but it will be OK, I assure you.’

  ‘But what about your parents,’ she had asked, ‘and … your brother? They won’t like it, will they, you being friendly with one of your employees?’

  ‘Leave them to me,’ said Sam. ‘I’ve told you; my father’s all right. Mother is inclined to be … well, she has rather grand ideas. But I can manage Jonathan. Don’t you worry.’

  Now, as they walked through the park, he stopped and gently turned her face towards him. He kissed her lips tenderly, then gave her a hug. ‘Don’t worry, Val,’ he told her again. ‘Everything will be fine.’

  ‘I hope so.’ She smiled at him. ‘But we don’t really know one another very well yet, do we?’

  ‘Then we’ll look forward to finding out more, won’t we?’ He smiled back at her. ‘Come along, I think the lake’s just round this corner.’

  Sam knew that he was getting fonder of this lovely girl each time he saw her. As she said, they did not know one another well, but he had been attracted to Valerie Horrocks in a way he had not been with any of his former girlfriends. He had been out with a few girls, usually the daughters of family friends, but he had never wanted to do anything but kiss them in a friendly fashion. Sam was a circumspect young man, he knew that some of his friends might consider him old-fashioned. Admittedly, he had sown his wild oats, to a certain extent, whilst he was in the army, but that was all behind him now.

  He now had respect for the girls he met. That was something that his mother had drummed into him, although he knew that, in many ways, she was a snob. She had managed to influence Jonathan with her way of thinking, but her patronizing and often unfriendly attitude to those she considered inferior to herself had cut no ice with Sam.

  Val was quieter by nature than her friend Cissie, but he liked Cissie’s down-to-earth honesty and how she called ‘a spade a spade’. Val was lovely; her softly waving brown hair and her brown eyes that lit up with warmth when she smiled. Her elfin features and slim build made her look delicate, but he guessed that she was really quite a strong girl, physically as well as mentally. Sam feared, yet also rejoiced, that he was falling in love with her. He hoped, despite her misgivings, that she felt the same way about him.

  When they turned the corner they crossed a bridge that spanned the end of the lake. It was a large lake, man-made, and already there were a few rowing boats on the water. Skirting the edge of the lake they came to a part where there were children’s paddle boats for hire, and the landing stage for the pleasure boat which would operate when more customers arrived. There were water fowl there; ducks, geese, and a couple of swans scrambling for the tit-bits being thrown to them by excited children, and their parents, too.

  ‘D’you fancy a trip in a rowing boat?’ asked Sam. ‘I’ll row, of course, that is if you can trust me?’

  ‘I’m sure I can, but … later, perhaps. Let’s have a wander round first, shall we?’

  ‘Fine, let’s get our bearings.’

  Leaving the lakeside they came to the restaurant, a largish building that served light refreshments and also more substantial meals.

  ‘We’ll come back here for lunch,’ decided Sam. ‘Probably a darned sight cheaper than the Carlton,’ he commented, clearly a true Yorkshireman at heart. ‘Mustn’t complain, though, the food’s great … Let’s see what else Stanley Park has to offer.’

  There was a rose garden tucked away down a winding path, with well-tended beds, the roses, in mid-August, being at the height of their flowering period. There were all types of rose bushes in every colour, ranging from pure white to a deep purplish red, scenting the air all around with their fragrance.

  ‘There’s a Florabunda,’ said Val, pointing to a bush with copious blooms. ‘That’s what our hotel in called. Janice says it’s named, partly, after her grandma. She was called Florrie, and she was in charge before Mrs Butler took over. She ruled the roost, according to what Janice told us.’

  Sam laughed. ‘A typical seaside landlady, eh? They were the subject of music h
all jokes for years, but I think they might be a dying breed now.’

  Down a flight of stone steps they came to an Italian garden with a pond, statues of classical figures and symmetrical flower beds. A path led to a tall clock known as the Cocker clock, commemorating a well-known Blackpool man. They retraced their steps to the lake and Sam persuaded Val to take a trip in a rowing boat.

  The boat wobbled as she got in and a sneaky breeze blew her skirt up almost to her waist. She pulled it down and sat demurely on the seat opposite Sam, straightening her skirt and keeping her knees close together. He took his jacket off before he started to row. Val watched him thoughtfully as he concentrated on his rowing. She liked what she saw. She was beginning to feel very attracted indeed to Sam Walker. He was a sturdily built young man, but by no means plump. His arm muscles in his short-sleeved shirt stood out as he pulled on the oars. His golden-brown hair flopped over his brow. He brushed it away then smiled at her, his brown eyes lighting up with warmth.

  ‘Hope you’re enjoying yourself,’ he said. ‘How am I doing?’

  ‘You’re doing fine, Sam,’ she replied, smiling happily.

  When they had had their allotted time on the lakes it was time for lunch. Despite their large breakfasts they were rather peckish by that time. They opted for one of the three-course meals that were on offer, tomato soup, roast lamb, and ice cream for dessert, in preference to steamed pudding with custard.

  ‘We need to walk that off,’ said Sam, ‘How about a round on the putting green?’

  ‘What? With an expert golfer like you?’ she protested. ‘You’ve got to be kidding!’

  ‘I’m not expert at all,’ he told her. ‘Come on, Val, it’s just a bit of fun.’

  She gave in, and she managed reasonably well. It was not the first time she had played, so she had some idea how to proceed, and Sam gave her a few hints. ‘In case you ever decide to take up golf,’ he said with a grin.