All That Glitters (41 page)

Chapter Twenty-four

‘It’s clean, tidy and I expect my lodgers to keep it that way. No visitors, no food allowed in bedrooms, all clothes and personal possessions kept in cupboards, no pictures or photographs on display. Those are the rules and I warn you now, I don’t stand nonsense from anyone.’

‘No, Mrs Morgan, I can see that.’

‘And I won’t tolerate any smart Alecs, girls or boys in my house either. Rent’s eight shillings and sixpence a week, paid in advance every Friday night. That includes breakfast and a good hot meal every evening except Sunday when it’s at one, prompt. I do no washing other than bedlinen. Sheets and pillowcases changed every Monday morning, lodgers expected to strip and make up their own beds. The front and back doors are locked every night at ten. I expect everyone to be in at ten minutes to that hour.’ She folded her arms across a bosom that reminded Jane of an overstuffed bolster.

‘Ten is going to be a bit difficult, Mrs Morgan.’

‘Why? No girl of your age should be out any later.’

‘I work in the Town Hall.’ Jane saw Mrs Morgan’s expression change from distaste to disgust. ‘You’re a showgirl?’

‘An usherette. We have to clean up after the last show finishes. Generally I can’t leave until half-past ten, sometimes eleven, and if we’ve been particularly busy, occasionally even later than that.’

‘Then this isn’t the house for you, young lady. If you’d told me where you worked when you stepped through this door, it would have saved me a lot of time and trouble.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Morgan.’

‘So am I.’ She shut the door on the bedroom Jane had caught barely a glimpse of. ‘There’s some in this road that’ll take theatricals, but I’m not one of them. I don’t hold with riff-raff showing off on stage, prancing around half naked, putting ideas into people’s heads and encouraging them to stay out until all hours. And I’ll have no one coming into this house and wanting to eat meals in the middle of the night, either. Un-Christian and unnatural, that’s what I call it.’

‘Which houses in this street take theatricals, Mrs Morgan?’ Jane ventured timidly, wondering why she hadn’t thought of Variety lodgings. The chances were that a house that took in artistes wouldn’t find anything to object to in an usherette.

‘You can try Mrs Thomas in Number thirteen,’ Mrs Morgan sniffed as she showed Jane the door. ‘She’s not too particular who lives under her roof.’

‘Mrs John.’ Harry Griffiths bustled round the counter and set a chair out for Bethan. ‘There was no need for you to come down. If you’d sent your list in, I would have delivered your goods as usual.’

‘I haven’t come about my order, Mr Griffiths. I was hoping to see Jenny.’

‘She’s packing.’

‘Packing?’

‘Haven’t you heard? But then, how could you. They only decided late last night. They’ve taken rooms in Leyshon Street.’

‘No, I hadn’t heard. That’s wonderful.’ She was surprised by the news. Phyllis had told her only that morning that Eddie had moved himself and all his belongings back into the bedroom he’d shared with William, on Sunday night.

‘I’m sure Jenny would love to see you.’ He opened the connecting door and called out to his daughter.

‘Please don’t bother, Mr Griffiths. If she’s busy …’

‘Coming, Dad.’ Jenny came down the stairs and handed her father a cup of tea.

‘Mrs John’s called to see you.’

‘Please Mr Griffiths, call me Bethan.’

‘Won’t you come up?’ Jenny invited her politely, hoping that Bethan hadn’t called on account of anything William or Haydn had said.

‘Thank you, I would like to, if I’m not disturbing you.’

‘Would you like tea?’

‘Only if you’re having some yourself.’

‘It’s already brewed. As you can see, my father likes a cup at this time of day. I’m sorry my mother isn’t in,’ Jenny prattled as she led the way up the stairs. ‘She’s gone to see my aunt.’

‘Actually it was you I was hoping to see. Your father told me that you and Eddie are moving to Leyshon Street.’

‘Today.’

‘That’s really good news.’

‘We were lucky to find rooms of our own so quickly. Please sit down.’

‘I feel a bit foolish now.’ Bethan sat in the chair nearest the window. ‘You see I couldn’t help but notice that things weren’t going too well between you and Eddie -’

‘It was trying to live here.’ Jenny interrupted. ‘My mother’s not the easiest person to get on with.’

‘Neither is Eddie. He has a talent for rubbing people up the wrong way. That’s why I was going to offer you rooms in our place. I talked it over with Andrew, and he agreed.’

‘That’s very good of you, Bethan, but it’s a bit far up the hill.’

‘Well if it doesn’t work out in Leyshon Street and you need a stop-gap you, know where to come.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I didn’t come here to pry, Jenny. Only to help if I could.’

‘I wondered what the family would think of Eddie moving back into Graig Avenue the night after our wedding.’

‘We thought the obvious, that you two had problems. And if there’s anything we can do to help, you only have to ask.’

‘That’s kind of you,’ Jenny said mechanically.

‘Being married takes a lot of getting used to. I loved Andrew with all my heart when I married him, but there still came a time when I felt I couldn’t live with him. Now we have a good marriage, but only because we’ve both learned to talk every little detail out before it becomes a problem.’

‘But you’re so happy!’ Jenny exclaimed.

‘Yes we are. But believe me, it wasn’t always that way. Sometimes I think it’s hard to live with someone all the time. No matter how much you love them there’s bound to be times when you irritate one another, and then again, as I just said, Eddie’s not always the easiest person to get along with. But he does love you, Jenny. Very much. You only had to look into his face at my birthday party to see how much.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know so.’

‘The problems between Eddie and me are all my fault.’

‘I don’t believe that for a minute. I’ve grown up with Eddie’s temper. But he doesn’t always mean what he says when he’s angry. Still, you must have found that out by now.’

‘He thinks I love Haydn,’ Jenny ventured. A wave of relief swept over her, as though the mere mention of Haydn in some way lessened her infatuation.

‘Perhaps that’s understandable,’ Bethan answered cautiously. ‘After all, you were Haydn’s girl for a while. But I’m sure both you and Eddie thought very carefully before taking your marriage vows. No one makes those kinds of solemn promises unless they believe they can keep them.’

Jenny heard her own and Eddie’s voices echoing back from the church: ‘Love, cherish and obey – till death us do part.’ Bethan was right: she had made promises. The most solemn ones of all, and they shouldn’t be too difficult to keep now she knew for certain that Haydn didn’t want her. Eddie had every right to expect loyalty, love and devotion from her. He might not have said the words, but as Bethan had said, he must love her. Why hadn’t she realised that before? He had made so many sacrifices for her. Ignoring her past with Haydn, taking her to the Revue, risking and attracting the mockery of his friends. Buying her chocolates when romantic gestures of that kind were totally alien to his masculine nature. And when he made love to her, hadn’t she forgotten everything and everyone else after the first few caresses when she’d tried so desperately to imagine him as Haydn?

‘I’d better be going.’

Jenny stared at Bethan, stupefied. She’d forgotten her sister-in-law was with her.

‘Would you like some more tea?’ she asked.

‘I can’t, I’m afraid. Andrew’s outside.’

‘Why didn’t he come in?’

‘He had a call to make, and he insisted on waiting. He’s overprotective, won’t let me go anywhere on my own, not in this condition.’ Bethan patted her stomach, and smiled. ‘Men! Where would we be without them?’

‘I don’t know.’ Jenny was suddenly very envious, not of Andrew but of the deep, honest, open love he and Bethan shared and their coming baby. At that moment she resolved to do everything in her power to build the same kind of trusting marriage with Eddie. She only hoped it wasn’t too late.

‘What do you mean she’s gone?’

‘What I say.’ Phyllis dropped some toast on to a plate and handed it to Haydn. ‘She was up and out through the door before William this morning. Packed everything she owned into two carrier bags and left. Wouldn’t listen to reason. Just said that … said …’

‘Said what, Phyllis?’ Haydn urged as her voice tailed away.

‘Nothing that concerns you.’

‘She said she wouldn’t tell anyone where she’d be staying so you wouldn’t get into trouble, didn’t she?’

‘What are you driving at?’

‘I know Jane’s from the workhouse. That she ran away from a dosshouse.’

‘She told you?’

‘Not willingly. I met someone yesterday who’d seen her in a workhouse uniform,’ he admitted, blurring the truth. ‘Then I confronted her. She didn’t want to tell me anything, but I forced her.’

‘Forced her? Haydn, what happened between you two?’

‘What do you expect? We had a blazing row.’

‘I tried to warn you that you’d end up hurting her. Jane’s not like other girls, at least not the kind you’re used to. Someone with her upbringing takes life more seriously than most. If you said or did anything …’

‘I was drunk. I can’t remember half of what I said. I’m not proud of myself, but after seeing …’ He halted mid-sentence. There was no way he could bring himself to tell anyone, not even Phyllis, about the photographs. ‘I thought she was hiding something,’ he finished lamely.

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know, that was the trouble. I was worried about you, Diana, Will, and especially Dad. Knowing what effect prison had on him last year.’

‘You thought Jane was a criminal? That your father would hide a criminal?’

‘I didn’t know. That’s the point, Phyllis. I didn’t know and no one in this house would answer my questions. Not you, not Dad, not Jane. What was I supposed to think? The last thing I wanted was for anyone to get into trouble.’

‘And when you heard she’d been in the workhouse you thought she was an unmarried who’d abandoned her baby?’

‘Not after I got to know her,’ he muttered, too ashamed to admit that the thought had crossed his mind.

‘How well did you get to know her?’

‘Enough to want to see her again. Do you know where she’s gone?’

Phyllis shook her head. ‘The last thing she said was that she was tired of being afraid of everyone she met. You don’t think she could have gone back to the workhouse?’

‘She said last night that she’d do anything to stay out of the place.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ Phyllis said fervently. ‘Because if she does, they’ll take everything off her, even her clothes.’

He was out through the door before Phyllis could say any more. He didn’t know where he was going. He only knew he had to find Jane and tell her, soberly this time, that he loved her and wanted to marry her.

‘Ten shillings a week, hot meal after the show … that’s a bit steep for you, isn’t it, love?’ Mrs Thomas was tall, thin, and had a smile that displayed a full complement of teeth set like subsiding tombstones. She’d catered for travelling theatricals for years, but she’d never thought of usherettes. Now one was actually standing in her hall asking for a room, she wished she’d considered theatre staff when she’d first gone into business. They didn’t earn as much, but they’d be a sight more dependable, and a few shillings less a week would be small sacrifice to set against a bed that never languished empty.

‘I’ve been paying seven and six.’ Jane explained.

‘Well then, tell you what I’ll do. Seeing as how you don’t mind taking that small room at the top of the house, we’ll call it seven shillings. But you help me to carry out the supper dishes every night. You don’t have to wash them, my girl will do that in the morning. I don’t like to keep her up late to wait on the guests’ supper table when she has to be up at five to see to the stove and the fires.’

‘If you’re sure about it, Mrs Thomas, I’d be happy to help out.’

Then that’s settled. My legs aren’t what they used to be, and I could do with another pair of hands around the place. My husband used to do a lot of the heavy work, but since he passed on it’s been a bit of a struggle. There’s only me and the girl and she’s not getting any younger either.’

Jane glanced into the room next door where ‘the girl’, who looked to be on the wrong side of sixty, was making up a bed.

‘You’ll be bringing your case?’

‘I have everything I need in these for tonight.’ Jane held up the carrier bags. ‘I’ll get the rest later.’ She crossed her fingers, hoping her new landlady wouldn’t pass comment on how little she had.

‘Well then, you can move in right away. Breakfast is from eight to ten every morning, those are the hours that suit the theatre people best. If you want yours any earlier you can get it yourself in the kitchen. The girl will serve you. Supper is after the show. Eleven, most nights. Here’s your keys. Front door, and room. Don’t forget about the supper dishes.’

Her purse lighter by seven shillings, Jane walked up the two flights of stairs that led to the attic rooms. The bed was soft, clean and inviting. Propping her carrier bags on an enormous chest of drawers that filled one wall, she lay down and closed her eyes, meaning to rest for just a few moments, but she was asleep in a minute. The night had been long and wakeful, and she had spent it trying to recall exactly what Haydn had said to her. Each and every vicious word.

As Haydn reached Temple Chapel a black car slowed in front of him. The passenger door opened. ‘Lift?’ Andrew John asked.

‘Thank you.’

‘Going into town?’

‘I suppose so.’ It would be as good a place to start as any. He remembered Jane saying something about a woman called Daisy who worked in the Ladies’ by the fountain. Then he realised that was the one place in town he couldn’t walk into.

‘You don’t know where you’re going?’ Andrew asked as he slid the car into gear and moved off.

‘Not really. Andrew, you work in the workhouse, don’t you?’

‘The Infirmary part. You’re not thinking of admitting yourself?’