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Chapter 8

Butlins with Billy Gray & The Stormers

It was heaven. Parties every night, go to bed when you like, get up when you like, a new girlfriend every week. You’d watch ’em file in to the dance on the night of arrival, smile at the one you fancied and you were away! I never knew it was as easy pulling birds. Why didn’t I try this before? I wasn’t used to all this!

I’d had a couple of girlfriends in the past. I was courting a girl who I packed up just before I went to Butlins. I shan’t ever forget that. I was courting her for about three months. At the time I thought I was in love. We’d have rows and at the end she’d say ‘Go on then, go if you want to.’ And me like a fool didn’t, and would talk her round. I remember thinking if ever I wanted to pack her up it would be easy, she wouldn’t give a monkeys. One mornin’ I woke up and I remember thinkin’, I don’t want to see her anymore. There was no feeling or nothing. The worm had turned. So, I didn’t go round her house. It was easy. After a week I’d forgotten all about her. Then there came a knock on the door. I looked out of the window and it was her with her mate. I was getting ready to go up the King’s Head at the time.

‘Hello,’ I said. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want my Ricky Nelson records!’ she said.

‘Oh alright, I’ll chuck ’em out of the window to you.’

‘No, bring ’em down. I want to talk to you. Anyway, I might miss ’em and they might break.’

I didn’t want to talk to her. It was all finished as far as I was concerned. I didn’t want to break her records though. I went downstairs. They were only 45s. I thought I’ll probably be able to poke ’em through the letterbox. But they were just too big. I opened the door quick, stuck ’em in her hand and went to shut the door, but she was there pushing on the door from the other side with all her might to keep it open. I managed to shut the door, then: ‘Whaaaaaaaa’ she started cryin’. She just sort of switched it on. It frightened me.

‘Shut up!’ I shouted through the letter-box. ‘Whaaaaa!’ she said.

‘Shut up and I’ll come out!’ I shouted again. I thought the whole street must be out. She stopped. I opened the door.

‘I want you to come back to me. Whaaaaa!’ ‘Shut up!’ I said. ‘What’s the matter?’ shouted Nan from the front room. ‘Nothing, Nan.’ I went out to the doorstep and shut the door. ‘I think we should finish with each other,’ I said.

‘Whaaaaaa!’

Oh, bleedin’ hell, the street’ll think she’s bein’ murdered.

‘Just let me come with you to the King’s Head tonight.’

‘No!’

‘Whaaaa!’

‘Alright, just be quiet. I’ll walk you to the bus stop but you can’t come in to the King’s Head. Let me get me coat and me bass.’ I was in and out like a shot and off we went up the street. All the time she kept askin’ ‘Why?’ I didn’t know why, I just knew I’d got fed up with her. On top of that the more she pleaded the more I didn’t want to know. At the top of the road I suddenly decided to leave her there.

‘I’m goin’ and you’re not comin’ with me.’

‘Whaaaaa!’

‘Alright! Stop it, I’ll walk on a bit further.’

Silence. ‘What am I goin’ to do?’ I asked myself. ‘This is goin’ to go on forever.’

I finally made the decision as we were taking a short cut through the alley to the bus stop.

‘I’m goin’, I said, and I went.

‘Waaaaaaaaaaa!’

I couldn’t have left her in a worse place. The echo between those two brick walls in that alley was deafening. This girl who once could twist me round her little finger, hollering like that! I was confused but I felt I was doing the right thing. Anyway, soon I’d be off to Butlins and having the time of my life. I lived for the moment and Butlins was the moment. But it was going to end only too quick.

At the end of the summer we came back home and I thought, ‘Oh well, it’s a shame that’s over but we’re bound to get loads of gigs, so it won’t be so bad.’ But two of the band got married and the interest waned. So did the gigs. I had to get a job.

Down the employment exchange I’ve gone with Billy Kuy. I was asked all the usual questions.

‘What did you like at school?’

‘Nothin’. Well, football and woodwork.’

‘Right, I can’t fix you up with a job at the Spurs, but there’s a job goin’ at a woodwork factory in Edmonton. Get down there.’

Off I’ve gone.

Now Billy Kuy had always worked in office jobs. He wore detachable collars and you never ever saw him without a tie. There were no office jobs going at the factory, but he was skint. He was no good at woodwork but the man at the employment exchange said they needed someone sweepin’ up, so Bill came too. On the way I’ve thought, ‘Oh well, makin’ somethin’ out of wood might not be so bad.’ I remembered making a split-cane fishin’ rod and a veneered cigarette box at school and I quite enjoyed it. We’ve turned up at the factory, Billy Kuy has been given a broom and off he’s gone.

‘Right, Mr. Hodges, come over here.’ It was a deck chair makin’ factory. Not very creative, but makin’ the best of it I am thinkin’ p’raps I can get into it. Drillin’ the holes, shapin’ the wood, fittin’ the canvas, sanding down and polishing and being proud of the finished product. Yeah, it won’t be so bad.

‘Right, Mr. Hodges, here’s what you do. See them sticks with holes in?’

‘Yeh.’

‘Well, put them round sticks in them round holes and bang a nail in to stop ‘em comin’ out.’

‘Right. What do I do next?’

‘That lot over there,’ he said, pointing to a mountain of sticks with holes in and hole-shaped sticks.

‘If you need any more nails, come and see me.’

I’ve never seen a bigger tin of nails! It was like a bad dream. There was I, left all alone with a pile of sticks that had to be banged together. A monkey would have been humiliated at the task. I made a start. In front of me was a dingy window that hadn’t been cleaned for years. Through it I could see a blurred vision of the bright autumn sunshine. I’m thinkin’, ‘This time last week I was at Butlins Holiday Camp. Heaven and Hell! Yes, that’s it, I’m in Hell. This is what it must be like.’

I’ve managed to get through to tea-break, then I saw Billy Kuy. That depressed me even more. The Jack the Lad of the band, number one bird puller, smooth talker, always wore a clean collar, man about town, looked a wreck. There he was, no collar, hair all over the place, red face, sweepin’ up. He’s come over to me with his broom.

‘Chas, I’ve had enough, I am fuckin’ off home!’

‘Go, Bill,’ I said. As much as he got on me nerves sometimes, with his smoothie ways and dapper habits back at Butlins, I didn’t want to see him like this.

‘Go, Bill,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna stick it out, I think.’

Bill’s gone. Dinner-time’s come and I’m fed up and depressed and everything. I’ve gone out to get me bike to go home for dinner. I can’t find me bike. Some bastard’s pinched me bike! Right, that’s it, I’ve had enough. How can I work with a load of thievin’ bastards! I’m not havin’ it. That’s the last time I’m comin’ to work here.

On the way home I began to feel happier. Although me bike was pinched it gave me the excuse to leave. ‘I mean, you can’t expect me to work with a bunch of thieves,’ I’ve told Mum when I got home. ‘I mean, what are they gonna pinch next?’

‘Well, you’ve got to earn some money somewhere, Chas,’ said Mum. ‘So you’d better start thinkin’.’ My usually easy-going Mum was right and I knew it. I’ve gone back on Friday to get me cards and me morning’s money and I’m just goin’ out of the gate when someone said:

‘Oi, you, come here. Did you come here on a yellow bike?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘and one of your mob’s nicked it!’

‘Nicked it? We brought it in out of the rain. It’s in the shed over there.’

I felt rotten the way I’d run ’em down. I called ’em all the bastards under the sun and all they’d done was bring it in for me ’cos it was gettin’ wet in the rain. They weren’t so bad after all. But the thought of going back to that job filled me with dread. I couldn’t wait to get away from the place. But I was out of work and the band by now had split. What do I do next?