All That Glitters, page 30
Mandy didn’t go back to the theatre. Instead she went to the dressing room. Taking an envelope from her handbag, she scrawled ‘Love Mandy’ across the outside before slipping into Haydn’s room. She switched on the light and looked around. The shelf was too obvious. Then she saw the coat hanging on the back of the door.
Haydn caught up with Jane under the railway bridge.
‘You didn’t have to leave early.’
‘I didn’t, it was breaking up.’
‘Not so I noticed.’
‘The manager realised he’d got to the end of the champagne supplied by the Revue company and was paying for it himself.’
She laughed.
‘You don’t do anywhere near enough of that.’
‘What?’
‘Laugh.’
‘I suppose I haven’t had much practice.’
‘Tough being an orphan?’
She gave him a hard look and he realised he’d hurt her unduly sensitive pride, yet again.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. It’s probably the drink talking, not me. My sister’s invited you to her birthday party tomorrow.’
‘I can’t go to your sister’s birthday party.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s a family occasion … it’s …’
‘She asked me to bring you because she wants you there. You live with us, I’m afraid that means you have to suffer our “family occasions” whether you want to or not.’
‘I’d rather not go on sufferance.’
‘She couldn’t bear the thought of you staying in the house all alone. And we can’t have Bethan being upset on her birthday, can we? Especially in her condition.’
‘She’s going to have a baby?’
‘I hope so, otherwise she’s carrying a lot of weight for nothing.’
‘That’s a charming thing to say.’
‘That’s the drink again. I didn’t mean it. We’re all hoping it will work out this time. It’s not her first. She lost a little boy last winter.’
‘Is that why she wants another?’
Her reaction seemed odd to Haydn. He looked keenly at her, not knowing anything about a world where pregnancy was regarded as a disgrace and the harbinger of a woman’s downfall. Or that Jane had never met anyone in her short life who’d actually wanted a baby and looked forward to its arrival as a joyful event.
‘Do come. We can walk up Penycoedcae Hill together. If the weather’s the same as today it will be glorious.’
‘I haven’t got her a present.’
‘Get her one in the post office in Leyshon Street tomorrow morning.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like a bar of chocolate.’
‘Would that be all right?
‘Of course. Have you ever been to a party before?’ he asked.
‘Not before tonight.’
‘I mean a family party. A birthday party.’
She shook her head.
‘It’s not much different to a family meal. Noisier, that’s all.’
‘You’re sure she wants me to come?’
‘I’m sure.’ He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and held on to her fingers. She was such an odd, confusing mixture of avaricious acquisitiveness and naivety. It had to be curiosity, and nothing more, that was driving him to get to the bottom of whatever had made her that way.
Although Jane had no mending to do the following morning she was up at her usual time. The cast of the Revue were leaving on the nine o’clock train out of Pontypridd. She’d decided to go down to the station to say goodbye to Mandy and Judy, the first real friends she felt she’d made other than Phyllis. She stopped off, not at the post office, as Haydn had advocated, but at Griffiths’ shop, and spent ten minutes choosing between the relative merits of different bars of chocolate before settling on bars of Fry’s Five Boys for Mandy and Judy and a shilling box of chocolates for Bethan.
‘Someone’s birthday?’ Jenny asked, as Jane untied the handkerchief she kept her money in.
‘Yes.’
‘Then you’ll be wanting a card.’ Jenny pushed a box of birthday postcards towards her.
Jane glanced at the clock and realised she only had ten minutes to get to the station. ‘I can’t stop now. Will you be open in half an hour?’
‘Where are you going in such a hurry?’
Jane didn’t stop to answer. She rushed out through the door and down the hill. She could hear the train steaming on the platform overhead as she bought her penny platform ticket. The station was crowded with men who’d come to wave the girls off. Bewildered, she looked around at the sea of capped and straw-boatered heads. Fighting her way to the edge of the platform she looked up and down the train. Two porters were stowing the enormous wickerwork baskets that held the props into the guard’s van. Norman and Billy were helping Rusty into a first-class carriage. Lower down the train, she spotted a group of girls clustered in front of the third-class carriages, Mandy and Judy among them. She started running, then stopped in her tracks. Haydn was walking up the steps holding a bunch of red roses. He passed by without seeing her and made his way to the first-class carriages, halting in front of the one Norman had helped Rusty into.
‘Jane, don’t tell me you’ve come to see us off?’ Mandy cried, pulling out a handkerchief and dabbing her eyes with it. ‘God, I hate goodbyes.’
‘Me too.’ Judy purloined Mandy’s handkerchief.
‘I bought you both some chocolate for the journey.’ Jane pushed the bag into Mandy’s hands. ‘It’s Fry’s, the kind you like.’
‘Don’t! You’re going to have me crying in a moment.’
‘I didn’t mean to upset you. You’ve both been so good to me.’
‘And you to us.’ Judy hugged her. ‘What are we going to do without you to mend our stockings?’
Billy, who’d spotted Jane from the first-class section, walked down the train. Winking at her from the open door, he said, ‘If ever you get tired of being an usherette, write to me and I’ll take you on as a comic’s assistant.’
‘Don’t, whatever else you do, work for a comic,’ Judy warned solemnly. ‘They all turn to drink in the end, and as if that’s not enough, most of them are born queer.’
Without warning Mandy gave Jane a rib-splitting hug that drove all the breath from her body.
‘I’m sorry, Jane. I’m really, really sorry …’ the rest of Mandy’s words were lost in a dam-burst of tears.
‘Mandy,’ Judy turned impatiently to her friend, ‘this is not an audition for Anna Karenina. Come on, into the train before you get completely hysterical.’
Mandy fought free of Judy’s grasp. She stood on the step of the carriage and looked back at Jane.
‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated.
‘What for?’ Jane asked in bewilderment.
‘For everything,’ Mandy sobbed. ‘Absolutely everything.’
‘Looks like you’re not the only one to come down and see us off,’ Rusty said to Haydn as she looked along the train.
‘Jane’s fond of the girls. You’ve all been good to her.’
‘She’s been good to us. Thanks to her my clothes are in one piece for the first time since I started this tour.’
The conductor walked along the train slamming doors. Haydn thrust the bouquet of red roses into Rusty’s hands.
‘These are for you.’
‘You were right yesterday.’ She allowed the conductor to close the door, but pulled down the window. ‘It was good while it lasted.’
‘You know my agent’s address. If you ever want to get in touch with me …’
‘Don’t worry, sunshine. When you’re up there in the West End with Noel Coward I’ll give you a call. You’ll need a good head girl.’
‘Or co-star.’
‘No, darling. My days of topping the bill are drawing to a close. I recognise a rising star when I see one. A falling star always does.’
‘Take care.’
His words were lost in a hiss of steam. A minute later there was only a puff of smoke on the platform and when it cleared, Jane looking very small, lost and forlorn.
Chapter Eighteen
‘I’d like to have a word with you if I may, Mr Griffiths.’ Eddie screwed his cap into a ball, and shuffled nervously from one foot to the other as he faced Harry Griffiths across the counter of his shop.
‘Talk away, Eddie.’ Harry carried on stacking empty Thomas and Evans pop bottles into a rough wooden crate.
‘I’ll do that, Dad.’ Jenny blocked his access to the corner where the empties were stored. He looked at her and saw in an instant what was coming. Wiping his hands on his khaki overall, he planted both hands on his knees and rose stiffly to his feet.
‘Perhaps we ought to go upstairs, Eddie.’
‘Thank you, Mr Griffiths.’
Harry opened the connecting door between the shop and the living quarters. A mouthwatering smell of cooking beef wafted down the stairs to greet them.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Griffiths, I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.’
‘You’re not, boy, Mrs Griffiths is in church. We won’t be eating until she gets back. Come in.’ He opened a door at the top of the stairs and showed Eddie into a room that would have been considered large if it hadn’t been crammed full of furniture. An enormous, stuffed horsehair brown Rexine three-piece suite dominated the area closest to the window. A heavy oval mahogany table and four chairs upholstered in the same brown Rexine were pushed up close to an enormous sideboard at the opposite end. The overall impression was of gloom; dark shadows interspersed with occasional teardrops of sunlight that had escaped the confines of the thick yellow lace curtains. Upstairs, Eddie found the cooking smell, now mingled with beeswax and washing soda, overpowering.
‘Sit down.’ Harry pointed at the sofa and Eddie perched on the edge, still clutching his cap.
‘Cigarette?’ Harry offered the packet, before remembering where he was. His wife didn’t allow anyone, not even the vicar, to smoke in her precious sitting room.
Eddie glanced anxiously about him. There were so many highly polished surfaces he was petrified at the thought of dropping ash or scorching something. ‘Not right now, but thank you for offering, Mr Griffiths.’
‘You wanted to see me?’
‘I’d like to marry Jenny,’ Eddie blurted out.
Harry sat in a chair opposite Eddie. The request wasn’t unexpected, despite Jenny’s assertion that there was nothing of a romantic nature between Eddie and herself. But he could remember Haydn Powell calling into the shop, and the light Haydn had kindled in his daughter’s eyes. If Jenny loved Eddie the way she had once loved Haydn, there was no obvious, outward sign of it that he could see.
‘I’d like to marry Jenny soon, if I may, Mr Griffiths,’ Eddie pressed.
‘How soon?’ Harry barked, a horrible suspicion forming in his mind.
‘We haven’t set a date or anything. I know we’d have to get a home together first. Sort out where we’re going to live, buy furniture, and all the things we … every married couple needs …’ his voice tailed as he realised he’d given no thought to domestic details. Only to what was going to happen between himself and Jenny every night in the bedroom.
Harry relaxed. At least Eddie hadn’t mentioned next week; hopefully that meant things weren’t urgent enough to send his wife into a rage. ‘You can afford to put a home together?’
‘I’ve saved some money from my boxing purses.’
‘Not a very secure job.’
‘No, but my position in Charlie’s shop is.’
‘You’re not thinking of turning professional, then?’
‘Not until it’s worth my while. Because soon, if you give your permission that is, I’ll have Jenny to consider as well as myself.’
‘At the moment she’s my consideration.’
‘I know, but I’d look after her, Mr Griffiths. She’d want for nothing, I promise you.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ Harry capitulated. It was no use fighting any longer. His craving for tobacco was too strong. He pushed a cigarette between his lips, and struck a match. He wanted to ask Eddie about Haydn; if he realised that Jenny had gone out with his brother. Then he remembered Mrs Richards and her endless gossip. The whole of the Graig had known about Jenny and Haydn. There was no way Eddie could have been kept in the dark.
‘All I’m asking Mr Griffiths, is that you, and Mrs Griffiths of course, give your blessing to our engagement, and then as soon as we’ve found a home …’
‘You say you’ve some money saved. Enough for a house?’
‘Not straight off, but certainly enough for furniture. And although we’d start off by renting, I intend to buy just as soon as I can. My father’s always owned his own house,’ he added proudly.
‘And what does Jenny say about all this?’
‘She wants to marry me.’
‘You’ve already asked her?’
‘Last night. Mr Griffiths. That’s when she said I had to come and see you today.’
Harry suppressed a smile. It was the first time the poor lad had spoken in terms of ‘Jenny said’. He hoped for his sake it wasn’t the beginning of a lifetime of henpecking. He loved his daughter dearly but occasionally, like now, he could see the heavy hand of her mother’s upbringing in her.
‘Well, I suppose in that case there’s nothing to do except bring out the sherry.’
‘Harry Griffiths!’ His wife stood glowering in the doorway. ‘What’s that you have in your hand?’ she demanded furiously, making no allowances for Eddie’s presence.
‘Nothing.’ Harry squashed his cigarette out on the lid of the packet and pushed the dog end and the ash inside. ‘Eddie Powell’s just asked if he can marry our Jenny.’
‘If that’s all right, Mrs Griffiths.’ Eddie rose to his feet, his hands still busily scrunching his cap into a creased ball.
‘Our Jenny!’ Mrs Griffiths glared balefully at Eddie. ‘She’s far too young,’ she snorted dismissively.
‘No younger than you were when you married me,’ Harry protested mildly.
‘That’s precisely what I mean.’
‘Our Jenny’s old enough to know her own mind. She’ll be twenty-one next birthday.’
‘And how old are you?’ Mrs Griffiths demanded of Eddie, ignoring her husband.
‘Twenty next birthday.’ It sounded better than nineteen last month.
‘And how do you think you’re going to support my daughter? She’s been used to a high standard, you know. We’ve given her everything a girl could possibly want. She’s never had to shift or make do in her life.’
‘We’ve been through all that. Go downstairs and get Jenny, Eddie. Tell her to shut the shop.’
‘On a Sunday morning!’ his wife exclaimed.
‘Ten minutes isn’t going to hurt. I think it’s time we had a toast.’
Eddie couldn’t wait to get out of the room. He ran down the stairs at breakneck speed.
‘Just what do you think you’re doing? Telling that young man to go downstairs and get our daughter to toast an engagement when I haven’t given my permission.’
‘Jenny isn’t going to need our permission to marry soon, not when she’s twenty-one.’ He lifted the lid on a Royal Doulton teapot that had never been used, and extracted the key to the sideboard from it.
‘But …’
‘There’s no buts. Not this time. Our Jenny’ll be up in a minute, and if it’s what she wants, I can’t see how we can stop her. Particularly with this war coming.’
‘A war, you, like every other man, can’t wait to start.’
‘There’s such a thing as bowing to the inevitable. Young men will have to go and fight, the women will stay at home, and the threat of separation will be enough for young people to see it as an excuse to hurry up their lives.’
‘And there’ll be as many mistakes made as last time.’
‘Probably.’ There was more than a trace of irony in Harry’s voice. ‘But when a young man’s faced with imminent death, he can’t see past the sweet young girl in front of him to the old shrew waiting in the wings.’
‘Harry Griffiths!’
‘Look Mam, Dad,’ Jenny walked into the room, Eddie hovering behind her. She held out her left hand. On the third finger a gold band set with two diamond chips glittered prettily as it caught a sunbeam.
‘And where did you get that?’
‘The jeweller in Mill Street.’ Eddie said quickly, wanting to assure his future mother-in-law that it was real gold and diamonds, not a market-stall copy that would peel or turn black.
‘Isn’t it lovely?’ Jenny pushed it under her mother’s nose.
‘Lovely.’ Harry uncorked the sherry.
‘Eddie got the jeweller to open up especially for him last night.’
‘He was drinking in the Ruperra,’ Eddie admitted, trying to make it sound as though he hadn’t gone to any great effort.
‘Drink a lot, do you?’
‘No, Mrs Griffiths. But I do go to the Ruperra every night. I train there.’
‘Train?’
‘Boxing.’ Harry explained succinctly.
She studied Eddie, seeing the bruises on his face and the plastered cut above his eye for the first time. ‘So you’re the Powell who boxes?’
‘Yes, Mrs Griffiths.’
‘And just what kind of husband do you think you’ll make, going around with a bashed-about face like that?’
‘He’ll make a marvellous husband.’ Jenny linked her arm protectively into Eddie’s, ‘And his face isn’t going to get any more battered than it already is, because he’s a splendid boxer.’
Harry lifted a silver tray of small glasses from the sideboard, poured sherry into four of them, and handed them to his wife, daughter and Eddie. Well here’s to the happy couple.’ He held his glass high.
Mrs Griffiths took her glass and held it at arm’s length as though it contained poison. ‘If it’s not too much to ask, do you mind telling us when you’re thinking of getting married? I don’t know about your family, but in this one we like to do things properly, and that means making plans.’
