The Secret Notebook Page 5

  ‘At times; not often. I never knew the reason.’

  We walked slowly along the promenade; the moon was bright, casting light on the cold, cloudless night, and outgoing night bombers droned and punctuated our continuing exchange of stories. Engaged in listening to Joe – his easy, resonant laughter, his outgoing manner – I almost forgot we had said we wouldn’t be out late until Dora called over, ‘I need to make tracks, Molly; I’ve an early start.’

  Jack smiled and agreed with her, said we all had an early start.

  Reluctantly, we about-turned just past Central Pier to begin the walk home.

  ‘How old are you, Molly?’

  ‘I’m twenty-one. How about you?’

  ‘Twenty-three.’

  As we made our way slowly back along the prom, Joe told me both his parents were alive and that he had a sister, Beth, who was turning their Manchester back yard into a vegetable patch.

  I told him I thought that was a good idea and that we’d prised up a few flagstones ourselves, in order to plant veg. ‘I’m planning on growing some potatoes when I get a minute.’

  ‘You’ll probably be another like our Beth. “Green fingers”, we call her. She’s a proper outdoor lass.’

  I curled my fingers into my palms. Constant peeling and washing up had made them split and sore and I wished I could work outside more. I asked Joe where he’d worked before joining the RAF.

  ‘Dad has a small workshop, a fix-it shop, mending anything and everything: radios, furniture, knife sharpening, you name it. I worked for him. Mostly round the local neighbourhood.’

  ‘Does Jack work there, too?’

  ‘No, he worked for a local engineering company – started with Dad first, though. But tell me more about you, Molly. If there wasn’t a war and you could do anything, money no object, what would you do?’

  ‘Oh, what a great thought… I love the coast. I would travel all around the British coast and then choose my favourite place and buy a home of my own.’

  Joe laughed. ‘Bet you a pound to a penny you’d end up somewhere on the Fylde coast, Molly. It’s so lively here and the scenery is grand.’

  ‘You could be right.’ I looked at Joe because I felt him looking at me as though I was the splendid scenery. Every time he said my name, my stomach trembled. Colour rose up my chest and neck, and heated my cheeks. ‘It didn’t used to be this lively in winter, but I love it all year round; the sea is different every day. There’s somewhere to dance, to sit and relax when the sun’s out, the Pleasure Beach is fun, there’s loads to do – and miles of coast to walk.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what I like about you, Molly, you seem like the kind of girl who’s not afraid to try new things. Willing to take a risk. Up for all the fun!’

  I smiled at that. I didn’t know if I was that kind of girl or not, but I did know that because Joe suggested it, I wanted to be the bold young woman he saw in me to justify the admiration in his voice.

  He reached down, took hold of my hand, then raised it up towards us and squeezed it a little.

  ‘I have another question for you, lovely lady. What would you say if I asked you to be my girl?’

  I couldn’t breathe in or out. There was nothing I would like more. My insides filled with bubbles of joy. ‘I’d say yes, but for the sake of my sanity, don’t let on to Mother, she wouldn’t approve.’

  As we made our way along the promenade, nearing home, the sound of outward-bound night bombers negated the need to speak. Too soon, it was time to turn in off the front into Banks Street.

  My Dear Diary, I have to admit I thought that I could not get any happier than I was at that moment … and then as we neared the boarding house, Denis ruined it, striding up to confront me and the others in the street. My heart plummeted.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Walking home.’

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘On the prom. Walking.’

  ‘With him?’

  ‘With Joe and his brother, Jack, and Dora, yes.’

  ‘Walking and what else? Playing fast and loose on the beach?’

  ‘Walking, Denis. And nothing else.’

  Enid stood out front, arms folded under her breasts, flowery pinafore flapping in the breeze, rollers visible under her headscarf. Her eyes drilled into the moonlit scene that was none of her business. The words nosey cow slipped through my thoughts and I wanted to yell at her to go away. Tell her she was getting on my nerves.

  ‘Molly, are you listening?’

  ‘Yes.’ I felt the comfort of Joe’s palm resting on my back as though in silent support.

  ‘What are you doing going walking with them—’ he pointed at the others ‘—when I was coming around to say goodbye?’

  Whilst everyone watched, I found some long-needed gumption from somewhere inside.

  ‘Why, Denis? I thought we were done with and you did call me a bitch last night. We were only ever dancing partners!’ When I said those words, relief washed over me. Surely, he’d get the message now to leave me alone!

  It didn’t seem right to stand quarrelling in the street, especially on a Sunday. I was about to say ‘Why don’t you leave?’ but Enid piped up first.

  ‘You should come in, Denis.’ Enid jerked her thumb at the slightly open front door. ‘There’s a brew on.’

  Those were the last words I wanted to hear! I swear the woman purposely does things to irritate me.

  ‘I’ve time. So long as I leave in an hour.’

  ‘I have to go now,’ Dora said. She said her goodbyes, gave a sympathetic grimace towards me and turned in the direction of home. Joe and I waited whilst Jack walked Dora to her door but was soon back with us, lighting a cigarette and holding the lit bit inward towards his palm to avoid a telling off from the air raid warden who was doing the rounds.

  Denis moseyed into the boarding house as though he owned the place and dropped his kit bag in the hallway. Enid smiled at him and clapped him on the shoulder. She told him to come through to the back and have a cup of tea. ‘I’ve made some scones; a couple will set you right for the journey to barracks,’ she said, adding to my dismay.

  ‘Always did like your scones, Mrs Webster.’ Denis gave a smile, shot a look at Jack and Joe as if to stamp his superiority in the household pecking order, like he had some standing.

  As Denis was ushered through to the tiny back room, Joe squeezed my shoulder. ‘Goodnight then, Molly.’

  Jack asked, ‘Will you be all right with his nibs, there, Molly?’

  ‘I will, thanks, Jack. And thanks for the walk, both of you, I’ve really enjoyed blowing the cobwebs off, it was fun.’

  ‘Happen we could do it again?’ Joe asked and his sparkling blue eyes crinkled just a little round the edges.

  ‘I’d love to. Especially if you help me clear up first?’

  ‘It’s a deal.’ His smile made me smile in response, restored my happiness.

  As I approached the kitchen and back room, Enid told Denis to go and take the weight off and that I’d bring us a pot of tea through and half a dozen scones.

  I put the kettle on to boil and then set down the tray on the table before turning to fetch the teapot and milk.

  Denis didn’t leave much for anyone else and I found my gaze wandering to Enid’s to see if I could gauge what she was thinking, but she just picked up the tea strainer and laid it on top of one of the thick white cups. ‘Tuck in, you’ve a healthy appetite, lad.’

  I’d to clamp my lips together to stop the words ‘There’s healthy appetite and there’s bloody greedy,’ from popping out. That was something my mum would have said. She was straight talking, never minced her words.

  When Denis had eaten his fill of scones, obviously not a bit bothered that the jam was meant for three of us, he looked hungrily towards a couple of scones remaining on the serving plate.

  I couldn’t wait for him to leave.

  ‘You can walk me to the station, Molly. We can say bye proper, then.’

 
‘No. I’ll say goodbye now. I told you last night at the Tower, I never was your girl. We only ever danced together.’

  I saw him off at the front door, and he muttered his displeasure with me. But I didn’t care. I didn’t want Denis blundering in and putting Joe off me.

  Especially since they’d already had one run-in.

  Especially now Joe had asked me to be his girl.

  Joe’s girl.

  It sounded right and more than that, it felt right – and Denis wasn’t going to wreck it for me.

  Chapter Five

  Molly

  Blackpool, W/C Monday November 8, 1943

  My Dear Diary,

  Joe and Jack helped with the teatime clearing up on the Monday evening and we called for Dora on our way over to the promenade to take a walk.

  I told Joe I’d made it clear to Denis that I didn’t want to see him anymore as we walked.

  He smiled at me. ‘Ah, I like a young woman who knows what she wants then goes out and gets it. It’s grand you know your own mind, Molly, love.’

  I knew at that moment what the expression ‘jump for joy’ meant.

  He held my hand in his and we walked towards Gynn Square, a quieter route away from the centre of Blackpool.

  The strange thing was that looking forward to spending time with Joe had the effect of seeing Enid’s criticisms, grumbles and snide remarks bounce off me. She had a mood dampening diatribe:

  ‘You’ll get yourself a reputation, going around with no end of young men; you know folk talk? Watch yourself young lady – Sylvia Bland from down Lytham Road got herself in the family way putting herself about and her mother threw her out. Any shenanigans like that and you’ll be out of my door quick as you like…’

  Her repetitious nattering didn’t bother me. My mood lifted to carefree and stayed there – and I’ve never felt happier my Dear, Dear Diary. Ever.

  There wasn’t a dull moment with Joe in the boarding house, he’d sing along with the radio, forever arranging games of cards with his brother and the other billets, having arm wrestles with his companions, and even the house black cat, Minnie, who bore no mind to anyone, could be found winding around his legs.

  I told Joe about the sand dunes, riding on the trams, the piers, the Pleasure Beach, the shows kept open for locals, billeted airmen and other servicemen alike in order to raise spirits, the beloved donkeys too – and paddling in the ice-cold sea!

  ‘I don’t think my six weeks here will be enough to see everything, Molly.’ He squeezed my hand. ‘I’ve a lot of other stuff to do as well.’ There was so much I wanted to share, but mostly we walked along the sea front, held hands, cuddled…

  ‘Molly!’ It was Dora. ‘I was just telling Jack here that we have the best ice cream parlour in Britain – Luigi’s!’

  ‘Oh! It’s so good, you must both try some whilst you’re here. And take us with you!’

  Dora, always the opportunist, laughed her agreement.

  Jack moved into the nearest shelter to light his cigarette out of the sea breeze. We all stopped for a break and to sit down out of the biting wind. He said that it must be like being on holiday all the year round, living here.

  My response to that was, ‘Apart from making meals and beds, cleaning, shopping for the food and all those other jobs, it’s just like being on holiday!’ I laughed and snuggled against Joe’s side as his arm went along my shoulder. I felt his laugh and looked up into his smile.

  ‘Not quite a holiday, then,’ he said.

  ‘How do you and your family fill your days, Dora?’ Jack asked her.

  ‘I help Mum; I’ll be doing clippie work on the trams soon though, I’ve been accepted. Dad works at South Shore – foreman at the Vickers Armstrong factory. He was injured in the Great War and was declared not fit for service this time – much to his disgust! Most weekends I also help Molly and Enid in the Bing Lea. I’ve asked if I can be a member of the Red Cross – you know, drive and roll bandages and things – but I’m not good with the gory stuff.’

  ‘What are you training to be, Jack?’ I asked.

  He went on then to explain that he and Joe would be training together to be Flight Engineers, that they’d already done a lot of training as fitters, but more trainees were needed for the flight crews because so many had been lost. He explained that up until a few months ago the pair of them had been loading bombs on the planes, seeing to repairs to keep the flyers up there.

  I told them quite a few of the billeted lads that’ve stayed with us have trained for the same as them and Dora said they spent a lot of time marching up and down the prom. She said her dad told her it’s called ‘square bashing’.

  ‘And here we are being dragged out for a walk on the prom in the evenings too!’ Jack said and we all had a bit of a laugh at that.

  Joe and I held hands, kissed and held one another tight in the shelter on the promenade.

  I knew a pang of sadness when he said he looked forward to finishing his training and seeing active service. I wanted to ask him whether he would be afraid, but it didn’t seem right somehow.

  So, I didn’t.

  My Dear Diary, later the same week, Joe and I went out alone. It was a cold, wet night and we went straight to a shelter, the prom quieter than usual.

  When he held me, I didn’t feel the cold. His hands wandered, his kisses deepened, sending darts of excitement through me.

  Aircraft, trams and cars moved in the dark, each unseen in the cloudy night, whilst adding their own background sounds against the suck and crash of the restless winter sea.

  ‘I need you, Molly.’ Joe’s words were soft, his breath against my ear making me shiver, heat searing through me. ‘Let me…?’

  My body yearned for him, I felt hot and could think only of getting closer to him. I pulled him as close as it was possible to be. But at that moment a great clanking noise from a tram nearby made me jump and realise just how close we’d come to making love – right there in the shelter.

  My Dear Diary, it made me realise my need for Joe was getting more overwhelming.

  ‘Soon, Joe,’ I whispered, pressing my mouth quickly against his before straightening my clothes and standing up to make the move to go home.

  He was quiet after that, barely saying a word as we finished walking home. I felt anxious he was annoyed that I’d stopped him going all the way; it had been obvious, Dear Diary, that he wanted to.

  Blackpool, Wednesday November 17, 1943

  I haven’t written for a week. I’ve been down in the dumps, haven’t felt like it. The only time I’ve seen Joe has been at mealtimes. He said he has to go out in the evenings to do extra studying with some others and the hour he has after eating, he spends with his RAF pals and Jack, playing cards, smoking, having a laugh.

  He says that there isn’t enough time for us to go out walking before he goes to study, but that it shouldn’t be for too much longer, just until he catches up with the work. I’m relieved he wants to see me, once he’s caught up. I miss him so much.

  I miss feeling like his special girl all the time and the way he makes me feel treasured and loved.

  Surely he misses walking out with me, too? I really hope so, but I’m not sure. He still smiles and winks at me when I’m serving up meals, but I can’t help feeling a bit uncertain. Much to Enid’s delight, I’m keeping busy with work to help take my mind off him – it works for some of the time at least.

  Tonight, Joe was out studying and Jack asked if I’d join him and the others for a game of cards.

  He and a couple of the lads were sitting around a table and one of the others shuffled the cards. Jack sketched something on a scrap of card whilst the playing cards were dealt to the others, then he shoved the stubby pencil behind his ear and put the small piece of card in his shirt pocket.

  All the clearing up was done. The choice was the back room listening to the radio with Enid, going for a walk alone in the howling wind and rain, or an hour or two playing cards.

  I said, ‘Go on the
n,’ and folded my apron over the back of my chair.

  I’ve noticed that Jack is less gregarious than Joe. There is a kind of patient air about him, in that he didn’t mind going over the rules of the card game again and again. I was just about understanding the game of rummy when the other two said they were off to bed, they both had to read through their notes for a test the following day.

  I said at least I’ll know how to play rummy next time … with Jack’s help. It was probably just the light, but I thought that Jack’s cheeks went a bit red. ‘You’re always welcome to join us, Molly.’ He tapped the cards straight on the table and laid them next to their tatty, much used box, then asked if I fancied a game of something else before he turned in.

  Jack laughed when I said knew how to play snap. He shuffled the pack, saluting goodnight to the others, then he turned his attention back to me and the cards and suggested, ‘Best of three?’

  I won two games and remained sitting at the table when Jack stashed the cards in their box and put them on the sideboard along with the draughts board and small chess set.

  My Dear Diary, I was surprised that I had enjoyed myself so much whilst playing cards with Jack and the other two billets. I asked Jack almost without thinking whether he’d like a cuppa before bed, then I joined him. He offered me a cigarette and hesitated to light his own until I told him to carry on.

  I asked about his sister, Beth, who’d applied to join the Land Army girls.

  ‘Beth, she’s a proper outdoors lass.’ He smiled, blew out smoke, and told me he and Joe had had a letter from their mum saying Beth was going to work on a farm in Yorkshire and was excited. I imagined that the twins got along with their sister and asked that question. He stubbed out his cigarette in the tin ash tray, blew out a stream of smoke and said they all got along well enough. ‘Except,’ he confided, ‘we don’t get on when she’s forever trying to pair us off with girls she knows!’ He said Beth had a male friend who was in the army and they wrote regularly, as far as he knew, but he thought it was more as pen pals than as a couple.