Time Goes By (16 page)

‘I think that might be … quite likely,’ said
Winifred cautiously. ‘But a lady has to wait until she’s asked, you know. So don’t go saying that to Jeff, will you, or to anybody else?’

‘No, I won’t,’ said Kathy. ‘But would you like to marry him?’

‘You’re a nosey parker!’ Winifred laughed. ‘Jeff and I get on very well together. I like him very much and I think he likes me. But, as I said, you have to be very sure. Now, I don’t think I want to say any more about that at the moment, young lady!’

‘No, that’s all right,’ said Kathy. ‘But why is Shirley’s mum going to live somewhere else? Don’t Mr and Mrs Morris love one another anymore? I thought he was nice, real good fun; he made me laugh.’

‘You can’t always tell what people are really like,’ said her aunt. ‘Sometimes they can be quite different with their own families.’

Kathy nodded. ‘Yes, Shirley used to tell me about her mum and dad having rows. And I know he was real mad about Brenda getting hurt, and then Graham falling in the sea.’

‘That’s what caused the big fall-out,’ said Winifred. ‘Mr Morris wants to be sure that his children are being looked after properly, just like your daddy cares about you. And he thought Mrs Morris was neglecting them by coming to work here.’

‘But she wasn’t, was she?’ Kathy frowned. ‘I mean … it was Shirley’s fault – and mine as well – that Brenda got hurt. We’d been told to look after her. And Graham wasn’t doing as he was told either, was he? He’d been told not to go near the sea.’

‘Yes, it was all very unfortunate,’ said Winifred. ‘But you mustn’t worry your head about it anymore, Kathy love. Maybe when Mrs Morris has had time to think about it she’ll be sorry she’s moved away. And perhaps Mr Morris will be sorry for all the things he said. It’s what happens sometimes with married people. I know you’ll miss Shirley, but you’ve got lots more friends at school, haven’t you?’

‘Oh yes, there’s Maureen and Dorothy … and Timothy. Actually, Aunty Win, Shirley was a bit bossy. I liked her, though.’

Winifred laughed. ‘It’ll all sort out, I’m sure.’ She kissed her cheek. ‘Now, you snuggle down and go to sleep. Goodnight, darling; God bless …’

Kathy settled down well in her new class. Her teacher was called Mrs Culshaw, whom the children soon decided was good fun but could be strict as well when the need arose. They still sat in tables of four, not at desks yet, like the older classes in the junior school. Kathy was pleased to be put on a table with Maureen who, after Shirley, was her next-best friend. It seemed as though Mrs Culshaw had been warned to separate Timothy
Fielding and his sparring partner, Stanley Weston. To Kathy’s disappointment, although she didn’t admit it to anyone, Timothy was not on their table, but was seated at the other side of the room. Sitting opposite her and Maureen were Stanley, whom she knew and didn’t mind too much, and a boy called Neville who was quiet, well behaved and clever.

She encountered Timothy, though, in the playground the first day. ‘Hi, Kathy,’ he greeted her. ‘Would you like a pear drop?’

‘Ooh yes, thank you.’ She popped the pink and yellow sweet in her mouth.

‘I’ve got another joke for you,’ he said. ‘What did the caterpillar say when he fell off the leaf?’

‘I don’t know,’ she replied dutifully. ‘What did he say?’

‘Earwigo …!’ He fell about laughing. ‘D’you get it? Here – we – go. Eer – wig – o!’

‘Yes, of course I get it,’ she said a little impatiently. ‘It’s … quite funny.’

‘I can’t hear you laughing,’ he said. ‘I ’spect you’re upset about Shirley going, aren’t you? My mum found out about it and she told me. I ’spect they’ll be getting a divorce, Shirley’s mum and dad.’ Kathy wasn’t sure what that meant but she didn’t admit it.

‘Oh … I don’t know,’ she said. ‘My aunty thinks they might come back when Shirley’s mum’s thought about it.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Timothy. ‘My mum says if they get a divorce they’ll be able to get married to somebody else.’

‘Oh …’ said Kathy, feeling even more confused. ‘Look, I’ll have to go, Tim. Maureen’s waiting for me to turn the other end of the skipping rope. See you …’

‘Aunty Win,’ said Kathy that night as she was getting undressed ready to go to bed. ‘What’s a divorce?’

Winifred was startled. ‘Why?’ she enquired. ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Because Timothy Fielding says that that’s what Shirley’s mum and dad are going to do, get a divorce. And I don’t know what it means.’

‘I think that your friend Timothy Fielding says a great deal too much,’ Winifred replied.

‘It was what his mum said …’

‘Well, I’m sure she doesn’t know,’ said Winifred indignantly, ‘and she shouldn’t be spreading rumours like that.’

‘But what does it mean?’ Kathy persisted.

‘Well, a divorce is what happens when a husband and wife decide that they don’t want to live together any longer. So the judge grants them a divorce … so that they’re not married anymore.’

‘And then they can get married to somebody else?’

‘Well, yes … Is that something else that Timothy said?’

‘Yes, he did …’

Winifred sighed. ‘I don’t think for one moment that Mr and Mrs Morris are going to get a divorce, or marry somebody else … so you just forget about it, love. I’ve told you, sometimes
grown-up
people fall out, but very often they make it up again. You mustn’t talk about Shirley’s mum and dad. You won’t, will you? And don’t take any notice of what people are saying.’

‘No, of course I won’t.’ Kathy shook her head. ‘Aunty Win … the Illuminations are on now. D’you think we could go and see them?’

‘Yes, I’m sure we could,’ said Winifred, glad about the change of subject. ‘That will be something nice to look forward to, won’t it?’

‘That’s a good idea,’ said Albert, when Winifred told him about Kathy wanting to see the Illuminations. ‘Why don’t we all go? You and Jeff, and Kathy and me. We could go in my car. An evening during the week would be better than the weekend; it gets very busy on the promenade. Then perhaps we could go and have a fish and chip supper afterwards. That’ll be a treat for Kathy, seeing that it’s something we hardly ever do.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ said Winifred.
‘Somebody will need to stay here to see to the visitors’ suppers. I don’t see how we can all go, although I must admit I’d like to see the Lights as much as anyone.’

‘Yes, that’s a thought,’ agreed Albert. ‘We haven’t got all that many folks in, though, next week. Perhaps Betty could come in for the evening, just for once; we’d pay her extra, of course.’

Sadie Morris’s departure had meant that they had to employ another waitress-cum-general help. Betty Jarvis, a member of the church that Winifred attended, had been pleased to step into the breach. She had no children to worry about as they were both married, her husband had no objection to her working – in fact, he had welcomed the idea – and she seemed to be fitting in very well. It was the bookkeeping, though, that was the problem. Winifred had got used to having someone else to cope with it, and now, for the moment, she was once again doing it herself.

She was pleased that Albert was so enthusiastic about the visit to the Illuminations. He had been very downcast after the ending of his friendship with Sally, and she had feared that he would revert to being as miserable and uncommunicative as he had been when he lost Barbara.

‘I shall never try again,’ he had moaned. ‘What’s the use? I really thought Sally and I were getting on well. It just goes to show …’ What it
showed, Winifred was not quite sure. ‘Anyroad, that’s it for me as far as women are concerned.’

‘Don’t say that, Albert,’ she had tried to console him. ‘You never know, do you? I didn’t think I would ever meet anyone; it was really unexpected the way I met Jeff. Try not to be downhearted.’

‘Well, at least I’ve got Kathy, haven’t I?’ he said. ‘She’s a bit upset an’ all about Sally, and about Shirley, though she was a little madam, if you ask me! I’ll have to try and make it up to her.’

And the visit to the Illuminations was one way of doing so. The Lights had recommenced the previous year after the years of darkness during and following the war. They were a great boost to Blackpool’s economy, especially to the boarding house and hotel trade.

Betty agreed to come in to see to the suppers on the Monday evening at the start of the last week in September. Albert drove along the backstreets to the southern end of the promenade; the customary route for the traffic to take was from south to north. Kathy sat at the front with her dad, with Jeff and Winifred in the rear seats.

The Lights really were a fantastic spectacle, living up to the proud boast that they were ‘the greatest show on earth’. All along the several miles of the promenade they sparkled like diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires – a long, long necklace of jewels. Here and there
were dazzling arrays of shooting stars, crescent moons and shining rainbows. There were juggling clowns and acrobats, colourful fishes and tropical sea creatures, and nursery rhyme characters, all dancing and darting about against the night sky. Now and again an illuminated tram passed by on the tram track on their left-hand side, transformed into a gondola, a paddle steamer or a rocket.

On the cliffs at North Shore were the tableaux, huge illuminated boards depicting jungle animals, fairy tales and circus scenes. One tableau, called ‘The Rejuvenating Machine’, showed a group of old men and women going into a strange-looking engine, and coming out at the other end as youthful boys and girls; such was the life-enhancing benefit to be found by taking a holiday in Blackpool.

Winifred was touched to see Kathy’s delight at the new experience. She had ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at first, then grew silent as her eyes took in one amazing vista after another.

‘That was terrific!’ she pronounced when they came to the end of the tableaux and turned off the promenade into the comparative darkness of Red Bank Road.

There was a fish and chip shop about halfway along that served meals to eat out or to eat on the premises. Albert parked the car on a side street and they went into the dining area at the rear of the shop. They sat at a table for four, covered
with a red and white checked tablecloth, on top of which were large canisters of salt and pepper and a giant-sized vinegar bottle.

The fish and chips were delicious; the fish was white and flaky and covered in crispy batter, and the chips were hot and steaming and a perfect golden brown. At the side of each plate was a small carton of mushy peas. Even Albert declared that he couldn’t have cooked it any better himself! They hadn’t had a meal that night, after serving the visitors’ high tea, and so between them they demolished the pile of bread and butter that accompanied the meal, and drank the huge teapot dry.

‘Well, it’s home time now, I suppose,’ said Albert. It’s been a grand evening, it has that!’

They got into the car and Albert set off driving, as carefully as he always did, back towards the sea. He would turn off soon and make their way home through the quiet back streets of the town.

Winifred could never say exactly what happened next. All she saw was a motorbike heading towards them, on the wrong side of the road as it tried to overtake a car.

‘Look out, Albert!’ she cried, but it was too late. There was a deafening crash as the motorbike plunged into the front of their car, and then a piercing cry as Kathy was thrown forward towards the windscreen.

‘I
t wasn’t your fault, Albert. How many times do I have to tell you? That thing was coming straight towards us. There was no way you could have avoided it.’ Winifred had told Albert the same thing umpteen times, but he was still in need of reassurance. She knew how guilt-ridden he was feeling, and would continue to be so until he knew that Kathy was going to be all right. And how Winifred was praying that the little girl would open her eyes. She had been unconscious now for two days …

It had all happened so quickly, and even now it was still largely a blur of confusion in Winifred’s mind. The almighty bang; the motorbike skidding away out of control and the rider lying motionless in the middle of the road; Kathy’s cry of anguish, and then her silence; and Albert cursing as she
had never heard him do before. In the back of the car she and Jeff clung to one another. They were, miraculously, unhurt, just suffering from the inevitable shock and a few minor bumps and bruises. A police car and an ambulance, then a second ambulance, arrived – she could not have said how long it had taken – called, no doubt, by a bystander. It seemed as though Albert might have a broken arm and a dislocated shoulder, and bumps and bruises, of course, but little else. It was Katherine who had borne the brunt of the collision, and Albert was still finding it hard to forgive himself for that.

They had all been taken off to hospital. Winifred and Jeff were treated for shock and then discharged, although they stayed behind for a while for news of Albert and Kathy. As they had guessed, Albert’s arm was broken and he would need to stay in hospital overnight. Kathy, too, had a broken arm and the bang to her head had resulted in concussion.

They had waited anxiously for news. Then, at midnight, a doctor had informed them that the little girl was still unconscious, but not too seriously injured, as far as they could tell, apart from the broken arm, which had already been set. Winifred and Jeff went home as there was nothing else they could do.

They had phoned Betty Jarvis at the hotel,
explaining that they would be delayed; they could not say for how long. She was shocked to hear of the accident, but assured them that she would wait there, no matter how long it might be before they returned. It was, in fact, one o’clock in the morning when the taxi dropped Winifred and Jeff off at Holmleigh. Jeff insisted on staying the night there, and Mrs Jarvis went home – only a few streets away – promising to be back in a few hours to help with the visitors’ breakfasts. Fortunately there were only six guests booked in that week. Albert would be incapacitated with his broken arm; but Winifred, who was almost as good a cook as her brother, declared that she would be able to manage, with help from Betty and the part-time staff who came in for a few hours each day.

Their main concern, though, was for Kathy. Albert was discharged on the Tuesday morning, and he and Winifred went to the hospital whenever they were able to do so, after the visitors’ requirements had been dealt with.

They sat at her bedside on Tuesday evening, then again on Wednesday afternoon, but there was no change in her condition. The doctor assured them, however, that there was no real cause for alarm; it was just a matter of time whilst her body recovered from the shock. Kathy looked very peaceful, but very small and helpless in the
large bed, with her broken arm – fortunately her left one – encased in plaster.

‘Poor little lass,’ said Albert as they sat there on the Wednesday evening. ‘I’ve not been much of a father to her, have I?’

‘Albert, you must never say that!’ Winifred remonstrated with him. ‘You love her very much. She knows that, and she loves you too. We are all a victim of our own personality, and losing Barbara … well, that had a great effect on you, didn’t it? But I don’t think Kathy has suffered from not having a mother.’

‘And that is thanks to you, Winnie. You’ve been wonderful. You’ve loved her just as much as any mother could have done.’ Albert was not often moved to utter such words of praise. She had felt, at times, that he took her largely for granted; but she could see the remorse in his eyes now, and the trace of a tear. ‘But I’ll be different,’ he went on. ‘If she comes round … I’ll make it all up to her.’

‘Albert, there’s no “if” about it,’ said Winifred. ‘She will get better; the doctor has said so. Now, you must be positive about this; she’s going to be all right.’

Albert nodded. He continued to look at the motionless figure in the bed. Suddenly, her hand moved, grasping at the sheet.

‘There, what did I tell you?’ said Winifred, in a hushed voice.

They hardly dared to breathe as they watched the little girl’s head begin to move, slowly, from side to side. Then she opened her eyes. She blinked, then her eyes wandered around the room, as if to familiarise herself with her strange surroundings.

‘Thank God …’ whispered Winifred. ‘Oh, Albert … I can scarcely believe it. I tried to believe, but … Oh, thank you, thank you, God.’ She buried her head in her hands, unable to stem the tears of relief.

‘Yes, indeed … thank God,’ muttered Albert.

Kathy was looking at them now. ‘Daddy … Aunty Win …’ she said, in such a tiny voice. ‘Where am I?’ She raised her head a fraction and tried to look around. ‘I feel a bit funny,’ she said. ‘What’s happened?’

‘You had an accident, darling,’ said Winifred. ‘You hurt your arm and your head. You’re in hospital.’

‘Oh …’ Kathy glanced down at her arm encased in plaster. ‘My arm, yes … Is it broken?’

‘It was,’ said her aunt. ‘But the doctors have mended it. And you’re going to be fine. Now, just lie still and I’ll go and fetch the nurse. She’ll be so pleased that you’ve opened your eyes.’

‘Have I been asleep, then,’ asked Kathy, ‘for a long time?’

‘Yes … for quite a little while.’

‘Like Sleeping Beauty,’ smiled Kathy.

‘Well, not quite as long as that, love,’ chuckled Albert. ‘Not a hundred years. But quite long enough for your aunty and me to have to wait. See, your old dad’s got a broken arm an’ all. A couple of old crocks, aren’t we?’

Kathy smiled at them, and there were tears in Albert’s eyes as well as Winifred’s as he and his sister looked at one another, almost too choked to speak.

‘I’ll go and get the nurse …’ murmured Winifred.

Kathy, of course, needed to stay in hospital for a while longer. But they knew now that she was out of danger. It was fortunate that she had suffered only from a broken arm and concussion. It could, indeed, have been much worse. Albert knew that they could all have been seriously injured or even killed. They were pleased to hear, also, that the motorcyclist was out of danger. His injuries were more severe, but he was recovering. What was more, he knew he had to take full responsibility for the accident; but that would all be sorted out in the not-
too-distant
future.

Winifred knew that she must ask Albert about the comment he had made when Kathy opened her eyes. ‘You said “thank God”’ she told him, but not in words of recrimination. He had sounded as
though he really meant it. ‘I thought … well, you always refused to believe in him.’

Albert nodded. ‘That’s true; “thank God” … that’s what I said, and I meant it. I prayed, Winnie, when our Kathy was unconscious. I told myself that if God doesn’t exist, then it would make no difference. But if he really was … somewhere up there, listening to us, then maybe he might answer our prayers. I knew you would be praying as well, you see, and that he would most likely take more notice of you than he would of me.’

‘Don’t say that, Albert,’ whispered Winifred. ‘I believe that he listens to everyone. We don’t always get the answer that we want, but this time … we did.’

‘Yes, thank God, we did,’ echoed Albert.

‘I’m glad you’ve changed your mind about God.’ Winifred smiled at her brother. ‘He can make such a difference to life.’

‘Well, I shall certainly give him a try now,’ replied Albert. ‘What have I to lose? I nearly lost the most precious thing in my life. But I shall be different now, Winnie, you’ll see. I’m going to be a father that Kathy can be proud of …’