Time Goes By (5 page)

‘Now then, that’s all shipshape again,’ said Mrs Morris, coming in from the kitchen. ‘We’ll have a game or two, shall we, before Kathy goes home. Frank … Graham … are you going to join us?’

To Kathy’s surprise they both agreed that they would.

‘There’ll be too many of us, though,’ said Shirley. ‘It makes five and we only need four for Ludo.’

‘And then there’s Brenda,’ said Kathy.

‘Oh, she’s too little,’ said Shirley. ‘I tell you what; she can play with you, Kathy, seeing that you seem to have taken to her … Let her think she is helping,’ she added in a grown-up voice.

‘And I’ll have a look at the paper while you play,’ said Mrs Morris. ‘Then we can swap over later.’

Kathy enjoyed the games very much. Mr Morris was such good fun. Her dad could hardly ever be persuaded to join in games, and it wasn’t much good with just herself and Aunty Win, although her aunt had taught her to play draughts and how to do patience, which you could play on your own. It was usually very quiet in the evening at Kathy’s home, with her dad listening to the wireless and her aunt knitting or reading. She was enjoying playing immensely now, but she decided that Graham was not a very good loser. He wanted to win at all the games – she guessed that was why he wanted to play, so that he could show off – and he was really cross when Shirley won the first game of Ludo. He won the second one, though, so he cheered up a bit.

Then Mrs Morris joined in instead of her husband, and they played Snakes and Ladders. Graham was very annoyed when his counter had to go down a really long snake. And in the end Kathy won that game.

‘It’s only a game of chance,’ remarked Graham. ‘You don’t have to be clever to win at Snakes and Ladders, not like you do at Ludo.’ Mrs Morris told him off for being impolite to their guest, but Kathy didn’t mind. She didn’t know what he meant, really. Besides, it had all been such good fun.

When it was time for Kathy to go home Mrs
Morris said she would walk back with her. ‘I feel that I need a breath of fresh air,’ she explained.

‘But it’s Brenda’s bedtime,’ said her husband.

‘It’s all right, Frank,’ she replied. ‘She can stay up a bit and I’ll see to her when I get back. I won’t be long. You can perhaps read her a story?’

‘OK, then,’ said Mr Morris. He didn’t seem to mind that.

‘Thank you for having me,’ Kathy said to him when she had got her coat on, just as her aunt had taught her to do when she went to someone’s house.

‘That’s all right,’ he laughed. ‘You’re a very polite little lady. We’ve enjoyed having you. Come again, any time.’

‘Can I come with you to Kathy’s?’ asked Shirley.

‘No, you stay here,’ replied her mother. ‘Maybe you could read a story to Brenda as well. She’ll like that.’

Shirley nodded. ‘I’ll read her the one about the three billy goats gruff. It’s her favourite.’ Shirley was very proud of her prowess at reading and never lost an opportunity to show off a little.

‘Ta-ra, Kathy,’ she called. ‘See you at school tomorrow.’

Dusk was falling as they set off along the street and round the corner to the hotel where Kathy lived. She held Mrs Morris’s hand as
they crossed the road. She liked Shirley’s mum. She was young and pretty, with blonde hair like Shirley’s, and she wore bright-pink lipstick. She was nice and friendly too, and never seemed to get bad-tempered, not like some of the mums that Kathy had seen sometimes on the way home from school, shouting at their children.

‘I want to have a little chat with your aunty … about something,’ she told Kathy. ‘And I didn’t really want Shirley to be listening, not until it’s sorted out. She’s a bit nosey, is our Shirley; she likes to know what’s going on.’

‘Little pigs have big ears,’ remarked Kathy. ‘That’s what my aunty says sometimes, when she wants to tell my dad something private. But I don’t ever tell tales.’

Mrs Morris laughed. ‘No, I’m sure you don’t. It’s not really a secret … but I was wondering if your aunt might find me a job at the hotel when the season starts … You’re the only person I’ve told yet,’ she added confidingly. ‘But keep it under your hat for the moment. That means—’

‘It means I’ve not to tell Shirley.’ Kathy nodded. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Morris. It’s our secret.’

Shirley’s mum laughed. ‘You’re a little cough drop, aren’t you?’ That was a funny thing to say. Her aunty said it sometimes when Kathy said something that made her laugh. She guessed it was a nice thing to be.

‘We’ll go in the back way,’ said Kathy when they arrived at Holmleigh. ‘The back door’s usually open until everyone’s in. Come in, Mrs Morris,’ she said politely. ‘I’ll tell my aunty you’re here.’

The door opened straight into the kitchen, and that led into the living room. It was the family dining room and sitting room and everything-else room, separate from the rooms at the front which were occupied by the visitors.

‘Mrs Morris has brought me home,’ called Kathy. ‘She wants to ask you something, Aunty Win.’

Aunty Win was knitting and her dad was reading the newspaper and smoking his pipe. He looked up and nodded. ‘Hello there. Thanks for having our Kathy.’ Then he returned to his paper.

‘Come in, come in. Sit yourself down.’ Aunty Win jumped up and moved a couple of magazines off an easy chair.

‘Thank you … I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ said Shirley’s mum.

‘No, not at all … Kathy, go and take your coat off, there’s a good girl. And then you can read in your bedroom while I talk to Mrs Morris,’ said Aunty Win.

‘Oh, it’s all right; it’s nothing private,’ said Mrs Morris. ‘I’ve already mentioned it to Kathy, haven’t I, dear?’ She sat down and paused for a
moment before she started to speak. ‘Actually … I was wondering if you could perhaps find me a job of some sort, Miss Leigh, when the season starts. I could turn my hand to almost anything I’m sure; chambermaid, waitress or … whatever you think best.’

‘I’m sure I could employ you,’ said Winifred. ‘We, I should say, as it’s my brother’s business as well as mine. But he leaves that side of things to me, don’t you, Albert?’

‘Eh? What?’ Albert looked up from his paper.

‘Mrs Morris would like to come and work here during the season,’ said Winifred. ‘We’d be pleased to have her, wouldn’t we?’

‘Yes, of course,’ replied Albert. ‘You sort it out, Winnie.’

‘Oh … do call me Sadie,’ said Mrs Morris. ‘Most people do, and I prefer it.’

‘And I’m Winifred; Win or Winnie for short. But you know that, don’t you?’

‘Well, yes; Kathy talks a lot about her Aunty Win. In fact, that’s how I always think of you, as Aunty Win.’

Winifred smiled. ‘“What’s in a name?” as somebody once said. Christian names it is, then. As you get older some people think it’s too familiar to call you by your first name, but I’ve never minded at all. So … Sadie, let’s see what we can sort out, shall we?’

Kathy sat at the table, quietly leafing through her
Twinkle
comic, but she was listening as well. She heard Mrs Morris explaining that she hadn’t been out to work since before she was married, but that she needed a job to ‘make ends meet’.

‘My husband, Frank, is quite old-fashioned, you see. I had a good job before we were married. I was a shorthand typist, and I worked for a solicitor in the town. But when we got married Frank made me give it up and stay at home. He thinks it’s a man’s place to provide, and he does earn quite a good wage; he’s a bus driver for the Blackpool Corporation. He says it’s a woman’s job to stay at home and look after the house. Then the children arrived – Graham and Shirley and Brenda – and so, of course, I’ve spent all my time looking after them and Frank.’

‘And making a very good job of it,’ said Winifred.

‘Well, yes; I’ve done my best. But we could do with a bit more coming in, to be quite honest. Graham and Shirley are always needing new things, they grow so fast. And Brenda has to have a lot of ‘hand-me-downs’ that Shirley has grown out of. I sometimes feel they’re shabbily dressed compared with some of the other children – your Kathy, for instance.’

‘Well, we’ve only got Kathy to look after,’ replied Winifred. ‘And we try to make an extra
effort … under the circumstances, you see,’ she added in a quieter voice. She means it’s because I haven’t got a mum, thought Kathy … ‘But I think your children are a credit to you, Sadie.’

‘Thank you. Well, I always make sure they’re clean and tidy, and I try to see that they don’t go short of anything, but it’s hard at times. And I’d like to be able to buy a new dress for myself now and again, without having to ask Frank every time.’

Kathy, listening to it all, recalled that Shirley didn’t have so many different clothes as she had. And the gymslip her friend was wearing now was too short, but she had never really thought anything about it before.

‘I haven’t said anything to Frank,’ Sadie continued. ‘He would only say no, we can manage, and there’s Brenda to consider, and all that. I thought if I sorted something out first and then told him later, it would be a question of “fait accompli”.’

Kathy didn’t understand all that, but she thought how nice it would be to have Shirley’s mum working at the hotel. She couldn’t leave little Brenda at home, though. Wouldn’t it be good if she could bring Brenda with her, then she, Kathy, could look after her? It would be nearly as good as having a little sister of her own.

‘Mmm …’ Aunty Win was nodding solemnly.
‘Yes, I see the problem … Sadie. You don’t want to cause trouble with your husband, do you?’

‘Oh, I’m sure it won’t come to that,’ replied Mrs Morris. ‘But he’s like all men; he likes to think he’s the one in charge.’ She glanced cautiously at Kathy’s dad, but he didn’t seem to be listening.

‘You could bring your little girl with you,’ said Aunty Win. ‘You’d look after her, wouldn’t you, Kathy?’ She seemed to realise that Kathy had been listening all the time.

‘Ooh, yes! I’d like that,’ agreed Kathy.

‘And Shirley could come as well, if you like,’ Aunty Win went on. ‘They could amuse themselves, I’m sure, whilst you were busy. And Shirley and Kathy are such good friends, aren’t they?’

Kathy pondered that it would have been rather nice to look after Brenda on her own. Shirley was inclined to be bossy and to want to be in charge all the time; like her mum had said that Mr Morris liked to be. Still, it would be good to have somebody to play with during the school holiday. It was often a lonely time with her dad and aunt busy working all the day.

Kathy heard her aunt suggest that Mrs Morris – Sadie – could be a waitress for the midday meals, except for Sunday when she would be at home with her family, and then perhaps she could help with the washing-up. ‘It’s a mammoth task
when we’re fully booked,’ said Aunty Win. ‘At the height of the season we might have as many as thirty guests.’

But Mrs Morris just smiled. ‘It’s all in a day’s work,’ she said. ‘I’ve never minded washing up.’

‘What I could really do with, though, is some help with the bookkeeping,’ said Winifred. ‘Albert leaves all that side of things to me, and it’s a bit of a headache sometimes. The books have to be kept in order for the taxman, and maths has never been my strong point. We’ve muddled through so far, more by good luck than good management, but the laws are getting stricter now. I don’t suppose you could …?’ She looked hopefully at Mrs Morris.

‘I’d be delighted,’ said Sadie. ‘That’s a job I could do at home, if it’s all right with you. I studied bookkeeping at night school. I’ve got a typewriter too – I’ve had it since I was doing my studying – so I could do any letters you want typing.’

‘Do you know, this is like an answer to a prayer!’ exclaimed Winifred. ‘Except that I’d never have thought of asking God for help with my office work!’

The two ladies settled down to a long chat over a cup of tea. Kathy’s bedtime seemed to have been forgotten, so she kept quiet. So had little Brenda’s and Shirley’s, she thought. She hoped that Mrs Morris wouldn’t be in trouble with her husband when she got home.

W
inifred had been a member of the dramatic society ever since it had started, back in 1920. She had felt the need of an interest outside of the home which, in her case, was also her place of work. In some ways it had been a lonely sort of life compared with some of her friends, girls of the same age who had jobs outside of the home; that was until they married, when it was expected that young women would stay at home, caring for their husbands and families. But the recent war had taken its toll, and many young women, bereaved, as Winifred had been, viewed the future as one of inevitable spinsterhood.

The boarding house had been very much a family affair, with her mother, Alice Leigh, at the helm. Alice was just one of a vast army of seaside landladies, veritable matriarchs, who
were becoming quite a force to be reckoned with. Blackpool landladies, in particular, were often the butt of music hall jokes and comic postcards, and even more so were their husbands. It was said that these downtrodden little men spent most of their lives in the kitchen, peeling endless amounts of spuds, and tackling great mountains of
washing-up
. This was not strictly true in all cases. William Leigh, Alice’s husband, for instance, had had a job outside of the home. He was a painter and decorator by trade, the job he had been apprenticed to on leaving school and in which he was employed when he met Alice.

Alice’s parents had ‘not been short of a bob or two’, as Lancashire folk were often heard to say. Soon after the marriage of the young couple they had helped Alice and William to buy the North Shore boarding house, and it had proved to be an excellent investment. It had been intended at first that Alice should run the business on her own, with just a little paid help. Later on, however, it had seemed only sensible that William should put his weight behind it as well, taking decorating jobs for other people during the winter months, at the same time doing the painting and decorating that was continually needed at the boarding house.

Now, in 1950, William and Alice were thankfully and happily retired. Albert was more or less in the same position as his father had been.
His skills as a painter and decorator had been taught to him by his father. The difference was that Albert had also learnt to cook – in fact he was considered to be an excellent cook – something his father would never have dreamt of doing, and unheard of in the days of the old Blackpool landladies. And the boarding house – now a private hotel – was doing so well that Albert did not need to do jobs for other people. The ongoing work at Holmleigh kept him quite busy enough.

Winifred had never given a great deal of thought as to whether or not she would be able to act, when she had first joined the dramatic group. She had seen it mainly as a way of meeting other young people, and as a means of helping her to recover from the ache in her heart, still there after more than a year, whenever she thought about Arthur. Maybe, at the back of her mind, there had been the thought that she might, sooner or later, meet another young man who could come to mean as much to her as Arthur had done. But the years had gone by and this had not happened. There was, inevitably, a dearth of younger men – as the girls often complained, they were either too young or too old – and the few that joined the dramatic society, in the first instance and then in later years, had somehow never ignited that vital spark of interest in Winifred.

She had, many years ago, struck up a friendship
with a friend of her brother. But he, like Albert, was five years younger than herself, not that that would have been of any consequence had they been truly attracted to one another. But after a couple of outings to the cinema and the music hall she had told him that she didn’t wish to go out with him again. He had not seemed bothered at all, and she had wondered then if he had only asked her out at the request of her brother who, she knew, sympathised with her predicament.

Then there had been an older man, a solicitor in the town, who had been left a widower in his early thirties. There again, though, Winifred had known that there was no way she would ever want to spend the rest of her life with him, although he had seemed rather keen that she should consider doing so.

Nowadays she did not fret about her lack of a husband. Neither did she envy her married friends. Sometimes, indeed, she felt that she, as a spinster, had the best of it. Some men were so dogmatic and domineering. She was contented – happy, even – in her own quiet way. The dramatic society that she had joined initially to ease her loneliness had proved to be a source of inspiration and motivation to her. To her amazement she had found that she could act and, to her surprise and delight, after a year or two she was playing the female lead in some of the plays they performed.

She was not, by nature, an outgoing sort of
person, but she did not find it difficult to take on the guise and the personality of the character she was playing. Neither would she have considered herself to be beautiful; she was certainly not at all like Joan Crawford or Gloria Swanson, the film stars of the time, but she supposed she had a pleasing face and figure, which, with her warm brown hair and greenish eyes, could be used onstage to her best advantage.

Her days of playing the young heroine, alas, were well past. However, she still enjoyed acting the more mature parts, as mothers or unmarried aunts. She had played the mother in J.B. Priestley’s
An Inspector Calls
, and one of the
middle-aged
wives, which called for a certain amount of comedy, in
When We Are Married
, another of Priestley’s plays. That one had been their last production. He was one of their favourite playwrights, but this year they were planning to put on a play from the end of the last century.

One of Winifred’s best-loved roles, as a young woman, had been that of Gwendolen Fairfax in
The Importance of Being Earnest
. They had performed that way back in 1925 and now the producer – a different one by this time – had decided it was time to bring back Oscar Wilde’s most famous play.

Would she be able to cope with the part of Lady Bracknell, she wondered? It was widely expected
that it would be given to Winifred, but it was not yet cut and dried. There was to be a preliminary reading of the play at the next meeting. That would be on Wednesday evening.

But before that it was Kathy’s Brownie meeting on Tuesday. They met in the church hall at six o’ clock. Girls were supposed to be seven years old before they joined the Brownies, but as Kathy would be seven in June she had been allowed to join a couple of months early. This was really a special favour because Brown Owl was a friend of her Aunty Win, and also because Shirley, who had turned seven in January, had pleaded with Brown Owl for her friend to be allowed to join.

This would be her fourth time at Brownies and to Kathy it was one of the special times in the week. She was proud of her brown tunic, the real leather belt and silver buckle, and the yellow tie with a lovely little tiepin shaped like an elf that was fastened to it. Some of the older girls – the
eight- or
nine-year-olds – had badges sewn on to their sleeves that they had been awarded for passing tests: homecraft, needlework, artwork, music, swimming and all sorts of other things. Kathy was already learning to tie knots – that was one of the first tests they worked for – and she knew it would be quite easy for her to get her homecraft badge as well. That involved doing simple jobs in the home, like making
a cup of tea, setting the table and washing up. She was already used to doing jobs like that.

Shirley was already there when Aunty Win left her at the church hall. Kathy took off her coat and hung it up and went over to join her friend.

‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ said Shirley excitedly. ‘My mum’s going to come and work at your hotel. She’s going to be a waitress – I ’spect your aunty will let her be the one in charge, ’cause she says the two she had last summer were just girls helping out in the school holiday – and my mum’s going to do the books as well; y’know, sorting out the money an’ bills an’ all that.’

‘Oh … that’s nice,’ replied Kathy. She knew that if she told Shirley that she already knew – or at least had heard something about it – then Shirley would be mad at her and get all huffy like she did sometimes.

‘And your aunty says that me and our Brenda can come as well and play with you while my mum’s busy working. That’ll be good, won’t it?’

‘Yes, that’s very nice.’ Kathy nodded. ‘Actually … Aunty Win did sort of say that you and Brenda might be coming … but I didn’t know it was all decided. Why didn’t you tell me at school today?’

‘Because my mum’s only just told me, that’s why!’ said Shirley, a little impatiently. ‘Actually, they had a row – my mum and dad – when she
got back from your house last night. It was past Brenda’s bedtime, and she’d already had two stories read to her and Mum wasn’t there to see to her. So Dad told me to help her to get undressed and have a wash an’ all that. And he didn’t half shout at my mum for being such a long time. I could hear them from upstairs.’

‘Oh dear!’ said Kathy. ‘I thought he was really nice, your dad. He’s good fun, isn’t he?’ She didn’t say that he was not like her own dad who could be grumpy some of the time, because that wouldn’t be a very nice thing to say.

‘Sometimes he is,’ replied Shirley. ‘But he can get mad as well. He likes to be the boss, y’see; that’s why my brother thinks he can boss me around – he’s just trying to be like our dad. Anyway, my mum came upstairs then to see to Brenda and she looked real upset. I thought she was going to cry, but she didn’t. She said to me not to worry, ’cause Daddy would get over it, like he always does.’

‘So are they all right now?’ asked Kathy.

‘I think so. They seemed all right when Daddy came home from work. Mummy gave him his tea, then she had to come straight out to bring me here. But she told me and Graham at teatime about coming to work at your hotel. She said that Daddy wasn’t too pleased at the idea, but she would work on him. That’s when she said me and Brenda could come with her. And I think your aunty said we
could have our dinner with you as well.’

‘What about Graham?’ asked Kathy.

Shirley laughed. ‘That’s just what he said. “What about me? Who’s going to make my dinner?” And Mummy told him he was just like Daddy, always thinking about himself.’

‘So what will he do?’

‘Oh, he’s out most of the time in the holidays playing football. I ’spect he might go to Jimmy’s; he’s his best friend. My mum certainly won’t neglect him,’ Shirley added.

Kathy pondered that family life – real family life, with a mother and father and children – must sometimes have arguments and fallings-out as well as fun and happy times. All the same, it must be rather nice, she thought.

Then it was time for the meeting to begin. They all stood round the big toadstool in the centre of the room. They saluted with three fingers and promised to do their best, to do their duty to God and the King, and to help other people every day. Then they went off into their ‘sixes’; there were five of these groups. They were called Elves, Fairies, Pixies, Sprites and Gnomes. Kathy was an elf, and so was Shirley. The leader of each six was called the ‘sixer’. Kathy knew it would be a long time before she achieved that honour, but for the moment she was enjoying the fun and games and learning the different skills. She could already tie a reef knot and a slip knot, and
they were learning to knit – pearl stitch as well as garter stitch. The finished article would, hopefully, make a cover for a doll’s bed.

She told her aunt on the way home what Shirley had said about her mum and dad falling out.

‘Oh dear!’ said Aunty Win. ‘I do hope it isn’t going to cause trouble. Sadie – Mrs Morris – is only trying to help a little with the money side of things. I’m looking forward to having her. I’m sure she’ll be popular with the visitors; she’s such a friendly young lady. Never mind, I expect it’ll all come out in the wash, as your grandma likes to say.’

Kathy thought again what funny things
grown-ups
said sometimes.

The play reading was to take place in the same church hall the following evening. The hall was in use every afternoon and evening for groups such as Brownies and Guides, Cubs and Scouts, Mothers’ Union and Young Wives, as well as for all the social events that took place in the parish. Winifred was neither a young wife nor a mother, and although both those groups had said she would be welcome to join them she had not done so. She did not want to feel like a fish out of water.

She was, however, a person of some importance now in the drama group. She was always there early in her capacity as registrar to collect the subs and to welcome everyone. She was also
vice-chairman
of the group and next year it would be her turn to be in the chair.

When the present chairman, Mavis Peacock, arrived she was accompanied by a man that Winifred had not seen before. A new member, she wondered, looking at him with interest – she was careful not to show too keen an interest – although he was what might be called a handsome figure of a man.

‘Oh, hello there, Winnie,’ said Mavis. She was a woman of Winifred’s own age and they had joined the group at more or less the same time. Mavis, though, had always been more interested in the production side of things rather than taking much part in the acting. She was wardrobe mistress and was in charge of the props, and with her brisk efficiency she was an invaluable member of the society.

‘This is my brother,’ she went on. ‘I think I told you, didn’t I, that he was coming to live in Blackpool? Well, it happened all of a sudden in the end, and here he is! Jeff, this is Winifred Leigh, a very good friend of mine … and one of our leading ladies,’ she added with a nod of approval at her friend. ‘Winnie, this is Jeffrey Bancroft, usually known as Jeff.’

The two of them shook hands, murmuring the conventional ‘How do you do?’. Winifred found herself looking into – and almost mesmerised by – a pair of shrewd grey eyes that seemed to be
regarding her with more than the ordinary interest afforded to a stranger that one had only just met. He was not tall, little more than average height, like herself, with hair that she guessed had once been fairish, but was now a greyish blonde, still thick and with the natural waves that many
straight-haired
women would envy. He smiled at her in a friendly, but by no means a familiar, manner.