All That Glitters, page 24
Eddie sat in his father’s chair and unlaced his boots. ‘Don’t tell me there’s actually one girl in Ponty who hasn’t been smitten by the great Haydn Powell.’
‘I wouldn’t have Jane as a gift. Far too spiky for my liking.’
‘I suppose she is, but then that’s hardly surprising, considering …’ Eddie fell silent, remembering his promise.
‘Considering what?’
‘Considering she’s living among strangers and just started a new job,’ he finished unconvincingly.
‘Pull the other one, Eddie. Aren’t I a member of this family any more? I live here, but no one thinks to tell me what’s going on. I go away for eight months and all of a sudden I don’t matter any more. Bloody hell, sometimes I think I’d know more about the people living in this house if I was the lodger.’
‘You are the lodger.’
‘Thank you very much.’
‘What’s the problem, big brother? Aren’t we giving you the star treatment you’re used to? Well if you don’t like it all you have to do is find a house where the inmates are impressed by the posters plastered all over town. God only knows there’s enough of them hitting the eye at every turn.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It means we all know you’re a big man. You’re famous, you have money to burn, and you’ve made it quite obvious you don’t need any of us, so why do you insist on hanging around?’
‘Is that what you think? That I don’t want to be here?’
‘If you did, you’d take the trouble to talk to us once in a while. That way, you might even find out what’s going on as it’s bothering you so much.’
‘At the moment, between rehearsing all day and performing all night I haven’t time to breathe.’
‘Only to parade around Ponty Park with blondes.’
‘That was one morning.’
‘What do you expect us to do? Wait until you can spare a minute or two? Stand in a row by the front door, so you can pat our heads as you walk in and out?’
‘Come on, spit it out. Just what is eating you, Eddie?’
‘You. That’s what’s eating me. You with your London ways, your posh clothes, your phoney accent.’
‘Damn it all, Eddie, I work on stage. The clothes, the way I talk, go with what I do for a living. Charlie’d soon boot you out if you turned up in his shop dressed like a miner. To get good bookings, I have to look the part.’
‘Exactly my point. You do look the part. Would you like me to tell you what it is?’
‘No!’ Fighting to keep his temper under control, Haydn walked over to the stove. Lifting the dinners off the saucepans, he paused on his way to the pantry. ‘Do you want one of these? Because if you do I’ll heat it up.’
‘No thanks. I’ve had the last of big brother’s leftovers that I’m going to take.’
‘Eddie, please. Can’t you see I’m trying? Won’t you at least meet me half-way? If I’ve done something, I’d like to know what. If we talk …’
‘Talk away.’
‘What’s the point, with you in this mood?’
‘What mood?’
‘All right, if that’s the way you want it, let’s try again,’ Haydn said determinedly. ‘Been sparring down the gym?’ he asked, switching to what he hoped would be an innocuous topic.
‘Yes.’
‘Fight soon?’
‘Palais, tomorrow night.’
‘What time?’
‘Half-past nine.’
‘I’ll call in as soon as I’ve finished the show. I might catch the last couple of minutes.’
‘You won’t. My opponent will hit the canvas before the first bell sounds.’
‘Pretty confident, aren’t you?’
‘Big heads run in the family.’
‘Do you want some tea?’
‘I’ll get it myself.’ Eddie took the kettle from the stove and went out to the washhouse to fill it.
Haydn picked up the milk and sugar from the pantry and carried it to the table, thinking all the while of Jenny Griffiths and how difficult it was to bring her name up in conversation with anyone in the family. He lifted down two cups and saucers from the dresser.
‘Playing mother?’
‘Eddie, you’re not making this easy, and I really do need to talk to you.’
‘About what?’ Eddie hooked the hotplate open and set the kettle on to boil.
‘It’s Jane,’ Haydn said finally, lacking the courage to broach Jenny’ name, thinking that if they could manage to discuss the questions raised by Jane’s odd behaviour, it might be possible to bring up Jenny’s threats later, when Eddie was in a more receptive mood.
‘What about Jane?’
‘I think she’s hiding something from us.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Something she said.’
‘You talk to her?’
‘She asked me to teach her to dance.’
‘Dance!’ Eddie laughed. ‘Somehow I can’t see you as a dancing master.’
‘You’ve seen me on stage.’
‘Prancing from one nude to the other.’
Haydn allowed the insult to pass. ‘We were talking about nothing much in particular when we got on to the subject of her family. She said she was an orphan. I asked her if she’d met Phyllis in the workhouse, and she clammed up. Told me where she’d met Phyllis was none of my business, and ran off.’
‘That’s not surprising.’
‘What’s not surprising? Why do I get the impression that I’m the only one in the house who doesn’t know about her?’
‘What’s there to know?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to find out,’ he shouted in exasperation.
‘She’s only the lodger. Who cares what she does?’
‘I do, if it’s going to get Dad into any more trouble.’
‘And what would you know about that? You never went to see him in prison.’
‘Because I was working the other end of the country at the time. Eddie, please, I don’t want to quarrel with you. Can’t you see I’m concerned? Dad told me that Phyllis was in the workhouse. That he feels guilty about her and Brian being there. If Jane was there as an unmarried mother …’
‘And if she was?’
‘If she was, someone must have taken her out. Perhaps we could go and see them and ask them to help get her baby out if that’s what she wants. Damn it all, it’s not her morals that concern me.’
‘That’s big of you.’
‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that she might have done something illegal to get out?’
‘Like what?’
‘If I knew I wouldn’t be asking. But I’m afraid it could be something that could land Dad back behind bars.’
‘Whatever she’s done, she’s living with us now. She told me Dad and Phyllis know her story, and that’s good enough for me.’
‘Then you do know something about her?’
‘Only that she’s had a rough time and could do with a little kindness. And seeing as how you’re only lodging here for the duration of the show, it really isn’t any of your business, is it?’
‘Eddie, what’s got into you?’
‘I’ve told you. You. Coming back here. Looking down your nose at us. Telling us how to live our lives. Trying to change everything …’
‘I’m not trying to change anything.’
‘No? Then why are you throwing your money around? You tried to buy every round in the New Inn. You’re as bad as Beth’s bloody husband. Will and I earn good money now. Maybe not quite up to Revue standard,’ Eddie mocked bitterly, ‘but it’s honestly earned, and we don’t have to make fools of ourselves tiptoeing around naked girls to do it. We’ve got our lives sorted, thank you very much. We don’t need you, your prying ways, or your damned charity.’
‘Eddie,’ Haydn reached out and laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. Eddie shrugged it off. Haydn walked away. If he’d stayed in the kitchen a moment longer he would have hit his brother, and given Eddie’s prowess in the ring, that wouldn’t have done any good. Any good at all.
Haydn lay on his bed in the front room and listened to the kitchen clock chime away the hours. At three he heard the click of a light switch and the creak of a floorboard overhead. Jane was only just going to bed when she had to be up again at five. She hadn’t eaten a proper meal all day, and it was his fault. Eddie had said nothing that went on in the house was his concern, but he couldn’t help feeling that even if his family wasn’t his concern any more, Jane was. After all, they worked in the same place. He’d taken her under his wing, was teaching her to dance, walking her home. But was he taking an interest in her because he had no one else? His father was too wrapped up in Phyllis and Brian to have much time for him – no, that wasn’t fair, his father had waited up to talk to him on a Sunday night when he had an early start the next day, and he was to blame for the estrangement between himself and Eddie and, if he were honest, William and Diana as well. He hadn’t taken the time to say more than half a dozen words to any of them since he’d been home. He should have left the girls to their own devices last Sunday and spent the day with his family. Was it too late to ask if he could join them next Sunday?
Feeling isolated, lonely and very sorry for himself, he turned over in the bed. This was a repetition of what he’d lived through when he’d left home to go to Brighton. Surrounded by people, and no one to talk to, not about things that mattered. No one? He thought of Bethan, the big sister who’d always tried to make everything come right for him as long as he could remember. If he left the house early in the morning he could walk up the hill and see her before rehearsals started at nine. Bethan was sensible. She would know what to do about Eddie and Jenny, and also about Jane. He punched his pillow and rested his head on it. His last thoughts were of his sister. Serene, smiling, and setting his world to rights.
Haydn was up, washed and dressed early in the morning, but before he emerged from his room at a quarter-past six he’d heard the front door bang shut four times. When he went into the kitchen Phyllis was alone with Brian, who was busily collecting the crumbs from the toast plates and arranging them on his handkerchief.
‘Feed the birds,’ he said as Haydn lifted him down from the chair he was balancing on.
‘Good idea.’ Haydn ruffled Brian’s curls as he set him on the floor. ‘They’re probably starving.’
‘Straight up the back, and straight down. Scatter the crumbs on the shed step, and no sticking your fingers into the dog pen,’ Phyllis lectured him.
Brian’s only reply was a deep throaty chuckle as Haydn tickled him before opening the washhouse and back doors for him.
‘You’re up early this morning.’
‘Thought I’d call up and see Bethan, I haven’t seen her since the night I arrived.’
Phyllis pushed a slice of bread on to a toasting fork. ‘There’s tea in the pot if you want some.’
Haydn lifted down a cup, and picked up the pot. ‘Do you want one?’
‘No thanks.’
‘The pot’s almost full. It’ll go to waste. There’s nothing spoiling is there?’
‘Just shopping day.’
‘That can wait.’
‘I suppose it can.’ She turned the toast over, and started on the other side.
Haydn poured out two teas, then stood and watched as Brian climbed the steps, one leg at a time, holding on to the walls either side to keep his balance. ‘Bethan’s right. Brian is a carbon copy of Eddie at that age.’
‘So your father and William keep telling me.’
‘Except in one respect. He hasn’t got Eddie’s vile temper.’
‘Vile temper? Eddie?’
‘You haven’t seen it?’
Phyllis shook her head, as she slid the toast from the fork on to a plate and handed it to him.
‘Count yourself lucky. You must be one of the few.’
‘I know he’s a bit on edge at the moment because he’s boxing in a big charity match tonight. A benefit in aid of the hospital. Your father’s going, and Will.’
‘I’ll call in after work. With luck I might catch the last couple of minutes.’
‘If you don’t, it can’t be helped. Eddie will understand.’
‘I wish I had the same faith in his understanding as you.’ He looked across at Phyllis, her face red from the reflected glow of the fire as she toasted a second slice of bread. Her eyes had something of the same look of contentment he had noticed in his father since he had been home. ‘Phyllis, about Jane?’ he chanced hesitantly, hoping she wouldn’t respond to his questions the same way Eddie had.
‘What about Jane?’
Was it his imagination or was she deliberately keeping her head averted? ‘Did you meet her in the workhouse?’
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘Dad told me he felt responsible for you and Brian ending up there, and something Jane said last night-’
‘What did she say?’ Phyllis broke in sharply.
‘Nothing much, that’s the point. Just that she was born in the workhouse.’
‘A long time before I was there.’
‘Of course. Look, I’m just concerned for you.’
‘Me, why?’
‘Well you and Dad have taken her in and …’
‘The less you know about Jane the better, Haydn.’ Tight-lipped, she eased the second piece of toast from the toasting fork on to his plate. ‘Do you want any more?’
‘No thanks. Phyllis, I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean to. All I seem to have done since I’ve come home is say the wrong thing. I’m beginning to feel like a pantomime villain.’
‘Looking at things from Jane’s point of view, I can understand why she doesn’t want to talk about herself to you, or anyone.’
‘Because she has something to hide?’
‘Her shame at her poverty. She told you she’s an abandoned orphan who was born in the workhouse, what else is there for you to know?’
‘What she did before she lived here.’
‘She survived, and that in itself isn’t easy for a girl in her position. You can’t begin to imagine how hard life can be for orphans. I lost my parents when I was fourteen. Fortunately I’d already started work and Rhiannon Pugh offered to take me in as a lodger. If she hadn’t, I would have been in the same position as Jane. But I found Rhiannon, just as Jane found us. She has a job and things are going better for her now than ever before.’
‘It’s the before that concerns me.’
‘It shouldn’t, Haydn, because it’s none of your business.’ Her voice was soft, but Haydn sensed iron beneath the velvet exterior. ‘And neither should it be your business when you’ll soon be moving on.’
‘Not until the end of the summer season.’
‘Jane is trying to set up a life in Pontypridd for herself, and the last thing a girl with her background needs is a good-looking man fussing over her …’
‘I’m not after Jane. Not in that way. I’m just trying to be friendly.’
‘The friendliest thing you can do for Jane Jones is leave her alone. Don’t put ideas into her head that will lead nowhere. She’s had nothing but disappointments in her life so far and she’s learned to cope. If you give her a glimpse of something she can never have she’ll be discontented with her lot until her dying day. Now you wouldn’t want that on your conscience, would you?’
Haydn mulled over what Phyllis had said as he turned left at the bottom of Graig Avenue and started the long haul up Penycoedcae Hill. The birds were singing, the air was fresh, the trees were bright green as opposed to the muted, milky green of stage sets and everything around him suddenly seemed startlingly alive and real. He breathed in deeply as he left the snorting horses and rattling milk carts of the dairy behind him. The hustle and bustle on the hill served to remind him that he alone of the people who lived on the Graig didn’t have ‘decent’ employment to go to. Only a rehearsal for a make-believe world. A childish world that couldn’t, and never would, really matter to anyone. Least of all the people who moved within its narrow confines.
He walked quickly, but not so quickly as to disregard his surroundings. He hadn’t realised just how much he had missed his native hills in London. Even the yellowed scrubby grass at the foot of the black slag heaps was like balm to his country-starved eyes. Half-way up the hill he stopped, leaned on a gate and pulled a cigarette from the packet he always carried in his top pocket. He looked out over the steeply sloping fields he had once tobogganed down on his mother’s washboard, remembering the cold rush of air, the crunch of snow as he skidded over it, the feeling of exhilaration mixed with fear – and the beating his mother had given him with a stair rod when she had caught him trying to sneak the damaged washboard into the washhouse.
In the valley far below nestled the village of Maesycoed, the grey stone and redbrick buildings of the school dominating the rows of terraces around them. In another age, another lifetime, he had caught hold of Bethan’s hand and walked beside her down Factory Lane to the Infants. Later when they had been promoted to the Junior School they had been entrusted with Eddie and Maud. And, later still he had taken to stopping at the top of Factory Lane to pick up Jenny – Jenny again. There wasn’t a memory that didn’t include her, except the days he had spent in the Boys’ Grammar School before short-time shift working and the eventual closure of the Maritime had put paid to both his own, and Bethan’s, dreams of academic success.
A maid dressed in a traditional black and white uniform, complete with cap, answered his knock. He wondered if the uniform had been Andrew’s or Bethan’s idea. He hoped it was Andrew’s. He didn’t like the notion of Bethan joining the crache and growing even further away from him than she already had.
‘Haydn, glad to see you at any time, but this is an unexpected pleasure,’ Andrew walked into the hall to greet him, friendly and eager to please as always, and for the first time since Haydn had known him, jacketless, with his waistcoat unfastened and his collar dangling from the neck of his shirt, attached by only one stud. ‘Bethan’s upstairs, but she’ll be down any minute. You’ll breakfast with us?’
‘I’ve eaten, but thank you for the offer.’
‘Coffee then? Come in.’
