All That Glitters (32 page)

‘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.’

‘We’re going to marry the minute we find somewhere to live.’

Jenny pulled Eddie close to her; the movement jerked his arm and a little of the sherry slopped over the edge of his glass on to the carpet. Mrs Griffiths noticed and stared pointedly at the mess he’d made.

‘I only hope you’re going to get enough together to start off within your own four walls. In my opinion it’s always a mistake for couples to begin in someone else’s home.’

‘Your sister started off with your mother,’ Harry commented, feeling the need to assert himself.

‘Yes,’ his wife conceded. ‘But it was far from ideal.’

‘We’ll find somewhere of our own,’ Eddie said, drawing strength from Jenny’s proximity, ‘when the times comes.’

‘Well then, let us drink to that time.’ Harry raised his glass again.

Jenny looked from Eddie’s apprehensive face to her mother’s disapproving one. Only her father had succeeded in raising a smile. She looked back at Eddie. He squeezed her hand, but she couldn’t bring herself to respond. If only he had been Haydn she would have been sure that she was doing the right thing.

‘Doesn’t look like Hitler will pull out of Poland,’ Trevor said to Andrew.

‘Not now. I think the content of the Prime Minister’s broadcast is inevitable.’

‘This is my birthday,’ Bethan reminded them, as Andrew opened half a dozen bottles of beer and distributed them among the men. ‘And I won’t have any talk of war.’

‘But if it comes, Beth, it’s going to affect us all,’ William protested. ‘We’ll all get called up.’

‘Not today,’ Bethan said firmly.

‘But next week …’

‘She’s right,’ Andrew handed William a bottle and a glass. ‘Today the only important thing is Bethan’s birthday, and if the ladies all have their sherry and the gentlemen their beer, I’d like to propose a toast to my wife’s health.’

Jane sat nervously clutching her sherry on the sofa next to Haydn. She’d never been in such lavishly appointed surroundings, she’d never drunk anything alcoholic, and she’d never felt quite so overawed. This was one situation when she knew that the bluff and bravado she had come to rely on to get her through life was useless. Watching Diana, Laura, Alma and Phyllis, she copied them and raised her glass towards Bethan.

‘To Bethan, the best wife a man could have,’ Andrew said gravely.

‘To Bethan.’

‘That’s the door.’

‘Our Eddie. Late as usual.’ Evan was furious with Eddie for disappearing early that morning just as the family were about to walk up the hill to Penycoedcae. Neither Diana nor Phyllis knew where he’d gone, and although Haydn and William had their suspicions they hadn’t voiced them.

The maid’s heels clipped across the tiled floor of the hall, the door opened and Eddie’s voice, accompanied by the low murmurs of a woman’s voice, floated in. Suspecting who the woman might be Bethan eyed Haydn, but he appeared to be in deep conversation with Jane. The maid opened the door to the drawing room and Eddie and Jenny stood side by side.

‘Sorry I’m late, sis.’ Eddie handed her a package. ‘This is from both of us.’

‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

She lifted the lid on the small, flat cardboard box. A fine white lace handkerchief was pinned to a square of deep, blue paper. In the centre, fastened by a tiny, dark blue velvet bow gleamed a miniature sapphire bottle of Evening in Paris perfume.

‘That’s very kind of you, Eddie, Jenny, thank you. It’s beautiful.’

‘I’ll put it with the others.’ Andrew relieved her of the package and laid it on the side table that held her presents. ‘Beer, Eddie? Sherry, Jenny?’

‘Thank you.’ Jenny looked around. The room was beautifully proportioned, high ceilinged and grand enough to hold four sofas, three armchairs and an assortment of side tables and cupboards without appearing crowded. Which was just as well, considering the number of people present. Dr Trevor Lewis and his wife Laura were sitting on a small sofa next to the French windows that opened out on to the front lawn, bringing a taste of the glorious summer morning to the assembly. Eddie’s father Evan, Brian and Phyllis had claimed the sofa next to them. Alma and Charlie were opposite. Haydn, Jane, William and Diana were piled on the largest couch, and Bethan and Andrew in chairs either side of the magnificent white marble fireplace.

‘Jenny and I have a small announcement to make.’ Eddie cleared his throat and deliberately avoided his brother’s eye as he lifted Jenny’s hand. ‘We got engaged this morning.’

Andrew was the first to regain his composure. He stepped forward with their drinks. ‘Congratulations.’ He dumped the glasses on the table that held Bethan’s presents, and shook Eddie’s hand before kissing Jenny on the cheek. ‘Now we have an excuse for another toast.’