Holiday Job

This post had photos of the holiday camp as it was around then, but they’ve been lost. They were probably picked from Google Images

After graduation I was determined not to stay in my parents’ bungalow any more. Especially because my mother was curious about how I’d got on with Christina after my brief visit to her house. All I could say was that she was nice, but that we had no plans to meet again. Which indeed was true. How could we? Both homeless. I’d naively assumed her father meant it when he kicked her out of the house that morning. I didn’t realize it at the time but she’d packed her bags, said goodbye and taken the first train to London next morning. I’ve no idea what happened next, because I went by bus, Tube and train to Clacton, where there was a Butlins Holiday Camp, and it being summer they wanted part-time staff to help look after the holiday-making families who thronged in August. They came from East London and other parts of Essex, mostly Cockneys and working-class people with the Estuary accent, but some posh ones as well. All ages, languages and abilities were catered for.

I’d heard of it via Gail, who’d got herself a summer job there, serving as a waitress in a café in the holiday camp. It had a jukebox with a small dance floor in the middle of the tables, which played hits like Twist and Shout..

So I turned up at the gates and went to the staff office where they told me they’d filled up all their requirements. Once again I’d arrived too late. But they suggested I went to the Lyons Maid ice cream concession, as they had a quick turnover of staff. These all turned out to be tanned Australians, over for the fun and girls.These were magnetically attracted to them, when they loaded up their cold-boxes with wrapped choc-ices and Mivvis, and wandered around the ground and also the adjacent sandy beach, which was open to all comers, not just campers.

The manager was a new graduate from the London School of Economics—already a fully-fledged businessman. Lyons Maid paid him a basic £10 a week plus commission based on sales, his contract being for the summer only. If he accepted me to join the team, I’d have to sell £16 worth each day. At least 5 days a week any time between 10am to 6pm. I was on commission only. I’d be given a £16 float for each basketful of ices and expected to come back several times a day for a refill.

The boss and I didn’t get on well. When I took time off to go and see Gail at her café, she was not pleased. But when she saw me dancing with a an East End girl in front of her eyes, she was outraged and was ready to make a scene. I explained the situation to Nancy, who took one look at Gail and said she was surprised at my taste.

So I said, let’s meet somewhere else, where do you know that’s nice. Nowhere really she said. She’d protested against being dragged along by her parents at the age of 18. No other youths of her age would be seen dead at Butlins. It was full of children and elderly. But she looked at her watch and said we could go to her chalet. Her parents had gone to watch a wrestling match. There was a building next to the main pool with a boxing ring. They’d been gone for the next hour.

So we went to the chalet and she locked the door behind us. Her tiny room had a single bed and a chest of drawers. There was nothing else to be done but get in the bed. She stripped from the waist down and told me to put my clothes under the bed. So we got in. I said why don’t you take your top off? She said her breasts hadn’t grown, she was wearing a stuffed bra. Not even her mother knew. I said why don’t you take it off? She said I’d be put off, but I said no, and saw it was true what she said. Then she said, “Be gentle, I’m a virgin”.  It was slow and sweet, and we lay there afterwards whispering to one another. She was so open and frank, told me about her parents and how she couldn’t wait to leave home.

Suddenly the door-handle of the chalet rattled. “Nancy, what’s going on? Why have you locked the door?” “Quick! Under the bed”, she said. It was almost impossible but I squeezed under somehow. She threw on her nightie and unlocked the door. I was so tired, she said. Danced all morning at the café, but got a good sleep, then you woke me up. So he apologized, said he was going to find Mother and they’d all go down to the beach

So as soon as he’d gone, we dressed and left the chalet separately. Our friendship might have matured given more time, but they were leaving first thing Saturday morning.

We sentimentally exchanged addresses. She wrote and said how much she liked me but she’d found a boyfriend. I was glad for her.