All That Glitters (26 page)

‘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.’

Haydn followed Andrew through the hall into the dining room that overlooked the lawned garden. Birds were feasting at a nearly constructed wooden table covered with scraps. Andrew held out the coffee jug, then remembered working-class preferences. ‘Would you prefer tea?’

‘Coffee, please. I developed a taste for it in London.’

‘What brings you up here at this hour?’ Andrew poured the coffee and placed it in front of him.

‘I haven’t seen Bethan since the night I came home.’

‘That’s understandable. You’ve been very busy, from what your father and Phyllis have told us.’

‘Rehearsing Variety by day and playing Revue all night.’

‘You must be exhausted.’

‘Not if everyone in Pontypridd is to be believed. Didn’t you know that singing isn’t real work?’

‘You believe them?’

‘As I’m the one who’s on stage, I’m not allowed to hold an opinion.’

‘There’s nothing wrong, is there, Haydn?’

‘With me?’

‘It’s difficult to come back to a place like Pontypridd when you’ve made a success of your career,’ Andrew said perceptively.

‘You’ve found that out too?’

‘Doctoring’s slightly different, but I do know there’s no race like the Welsh for putting a man down when they’ve found him guilty of getting above himself.’

‘Then I’ve been tried and sentenced?’

‘Not that I’ve heard.’ Andrew took his customary place at the head of the table. ‘But I know Pontypridd people.’

‘They never change, do they?’

‘And God bless them for it.’

‘God bless who, for what?’ Bethan appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a cream silk dressing gown that flowed over her swollen figure and fell around her ankles in soft folds. Her dark hair was brushed back, away from her face. She looked like a pale, fragile version of Lady Macbeth. Haydn had a sudden pang of conscience. How could he have even contemplated troubling Bethan with his problems? She had enough of her own, with a house of this size to run, a husband to look after, and another baby on the way while she was still mourning the last one.

‘I was warning Haydn that the people in Pontypridd will never change.’

‘In what way?’ She sat down and Andrew poured her tea without asking if she wanted any.

‘You know how it is, sis, everyone assuming I’ve grown a big head.’

‘Now you’re on stage.’ She made a wry face as she sipped her tea. ‘I can imagine. But for someone who has to work late every night, you’re up early this morning.’

‘It’s the only time I could think of coming. I’ve hardly seen anything of you since I’ve been home.’

‘Whose fault is that?’

‘Mine, that’s why I’m here. You keeping all right?’

‘Fighting fit.’

‘You look tired.’

‘That’s because she won’t rest.’

‘Andrew, if I rest any more, I’ll turn into a cabbage.’

‘Never.’ He left his seat and kissed her on the forehead. Walking over to the sideboard he picked up the covers from the array of silver chafing dishes. ‘Sure we can’t tempt you with something, Haydn? Scrambled eggs, haddock, porridge?’

‘If I eat now it will go straight to my legs, and I’ve a full morning of dancing ahead.’

‘Anything for you, darling?’ Andrew asked solicitously.

‘Dry toast, please.’

He passed her a rack. She took a piece and laid it on her plate. ‘I know you, Haydn. You wouldn’t have left your bed to walk all the way up here if there hadn’t been something on your mind. Come on, out with it.’

‘There’s nothing, Beth, really.’

‘Just brotherly concern?’ She looked at him over the rim of her cup. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Well, maybe just one little niggle.’

Andrew frowned at him, clearly warning him off, but Haydn didn’t need Andrew’s prompting to see just how frail his sister was.

‘Is it the family? Dad’s ill …’

‘Nothing like that, Beth,’ he reassured. ‘Everyone’s fine, and just as you told me when I came home, happy.’

‘You’re getting on with Phyllis? Because if you’re not you can stay here.’

‘Brian, Phyllis and I get along very well’

‘Then what?’

‘It’s the lodger,’ he murmured, hoping he’d settle on a subject that wouldn’t concern her too much.

‘Jane … Jane Jones, isn’t it? Phyllis mentioned her last Sunday. She’s working in the Town Hall as an usherette?’

‘That’s right.’

‘From what Dad said she’s moving on soon.’

‘When she’s worked her week in hand and can afford to take up lodgings somewhere else.’

‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘It’s hard to explain, really.’ He racked his brains trying to think of something that wouldn’t alarm Bethan, wishing he’d never come. ‘Forget it, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’

‘This is just what he was like as a boy,’ Bethan complained. ‘He’d say something like “Now I’ve done it, Mam will kill me”, run off, and leave me to worry and search the house for signs of wreckage.’

‘This time it is nothing. I can’t get anything out of her.’

‘Like for instance?’

‘What she’s done until now. Where she’s come from.’

‘You think it could be prison?’ Andrew joked.

‘That could come as a recommendation in our family,’ Bethan interposed tartly, thinking of her aunt and her father.

‘It could be the workhouse,’ Haydn said uneasily. ‘I get the feeling she’s afraid of something, or someone. She’s a nice kid, I’d like to help her, and I wondered if either of you knew any more about her.’

‘So that’s it? Sir Galahad to the rescue. Well I’m afraid I can’t help you. I don’t know anything. I’ve never even met the girl. If there’s a mystery there, you’re going to have to solve it yourself.’

‘As I said, that was only one of the reasons I came. I really did want to see how you were.’ He caught Andrew’s eye. Bethan was smiling, but Andrew wasn’t. He pushed his coffee cup aside and reached for a cigarette.

‘You’re up and about early.’

‘Thought I’d make you my first stop and give you something to brighten your day.’ Eddie dropped the small ham and dishes of brawn and pressed tongue on to the counter in front of Jenny. Leaning over, he kissed her full on the mouth.

‘It’s just as well the counter is between us,’ she murmured breathlessly when he finally backed off.

‘I won’t be able to see you tonight because I’m fighting, you do know that, don’t you?’

She nodded as she stowed the cooked meat he’d brought on the cool slab. ‘I’d give anything to be there.’

‘Girls don’t go to boxing matches.’

‘Who says?’

‘Everyone. Matches can get bloody.’

‘And you don’t want me to see you getting hurt?’

‘I won’t get hurt. But the other fellow won’t be a pretty sight.’

‘I can stand it if you can.’

‘My trainer …’

‘Joey Rees.’

‘You follow boxing?’

‘Only your fights.’

‘He’s a bit old-fashioned. Doesn’t like women around the ring.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because Bethan and Laura Ronconi watched me once when I fought in the booth in the Rattle Fair.’

‘You won?’

‘I did,’ he answered proudly.

‘Well, there you are then. Joey can hardly object if I come tonight.’

‘But that was different. This is a proper match. The place will be packed out. There’ll be talent scouts there …’

‘I could borrow my father’s suit again.’

‘Without me to look after you? Forget it.’

‘Please,’ she begged, brushing her hair out of her eyes. He looked at her and felt as though his heart was melting. He wanted her, enough to take her right here and now, on the shop floor.

‘I suppose I could nip out of the shop at dinner time and ask Joey Rees if you can come,’ he capitulated.

‘And if he says yes?’

‘I’ll let you know on my way home tonight. But if he’s prepared to organise a seat for you, you’d better be on time, sit quietly and not say a word.’

‘To see you box, Eddie, I’d do anything.’

‘Anything?’ he murmured suggestively.

‘Anything.’

The shop was deserted. He vaulted over the counter, gathered her into his arms, and kissed her again. The bell clanged above the door, but neither of them looked up.