All That Glitters (42 page)

‘Not this week. Look, if someone ran away from there …’

‘Ran away? Over ten-foot walls?’

‘Supposing someone got taken out by an employer, and the employer turned out to be a slave-driver, and then they ran off.’

‘This someone wouldn’t be Jane Jones by any chance?’ Andrew enquired shrewdly.

‘If it was, you wouldn’t tell anyone?’

‘No.’

‘She’s terrified of being taken back.’

‘After seeing the way the pauper’s wards are run, I can understand that.’

‘So what would they do if they caught her?’

‘Haydn, where have you been? Don’t you read the papers? There’s a war on.’

‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘Everything. Money and manpower are needed. And in vast quantities. One girl less in the casual ward isn’t going to upset the parish guardians. In fact on the contrary, it will be one less mouth for them to feed.’

‘Then they’re not looking for her?’

‘Put it this way. If they came across her and found out that she was keeping herself, and not breaking any laws, they’d be only too happy to leave her where she is.’ He stopped the car outside the main gates of the workhouse. ‘So you can walk back up the hill and tell her no one’s looking for her. If she’s worried about setting the record straight, I’ll put a word in the right ear, and get her crossed off the books.’

‘You can do that?’

‘Don’t you know doctors are miracle workers? You want to tell her?’ Andrew prompted when Haydn made no move to leave.

‘I only wish I could.’

‘You’ve had a quarrel and she won’t talk to you?’

‘We’ve had a quarrel and she’s gone. Left the house this morning.’

‘Don’t tell me a woman’s actually run away from you. The great, good-looking, all singing, all dancing Haydn Powell.’

‘I suppose you think I had it coming to me?’

Andrew suppressed a smile. ‘No more than any other man, myself included. Wasn’t it Oscar Wilde who said, “Each man kills the thing he loves”’ I’m not sure I’d go quite that far, but we certainly do seem to know how to hurt women. And how to play the indignant fool when they’ve decided they’ve had enough, and leave us.’

‘Beth did it to you, didn’t she?’

‘You remember? I deserved it at the time, and my blood still runs cold every time I think of how close I came to losing her. You love Jane?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you’d better find her and tell her so. And don’t worry about the records in this place, I’ll set them straight.’

‘Or crooked?’

‘Depends on your point of view.’

Haydn opened the car door. ‘Do you know what’s so strange? Admitting to myself and everyone else that I do love Jane. I thought I’d never say it to any girl, and mean it.’

‘None of us ever does.’

Haydn made his way down to the Tumble in a daze, trying to think himself into Jane’s mind and work out where she could have gone. She’d have to find somewhere to live. The question was, where? Pontypridd was teeming with lodging houses, and there was scarcely a house on the Graig that didn’t let out at least one room. She could have gone to one of the usherettes, but other than knowing that they walked home via Mill Street, he hadn’t a clue where any of them lived. Then in a sudden burst of inspiration it came to him. A hard-working conscientious girl with an exaggerated sense of loyalty like Jane would never leave the manager of the Town Hall in the lurch. She would turn up for work tonight. All he had to do was make sure she didn’t leave before he apologised and explained how much he loved her. And then if she forgave him … if she agreed to get engaged … Engaged!

He looked around. He was outside the New Theatre. There was a jeweller’s on the corner of Mill Street. He patted his pockets: by some miracle he had his cheque book.

‘That’s the smallest we have, sir.’

Haydn held it in the palm of his hand. A diminutive plain gold band set with a single diamond. Unpretentious, and perfect. Like her.

‘I’ll take it.’

‘It’s the smallest, sir, but unfortunately not the cheapest.’

‘I’ll still take it.’

‘And if it doesn’t fit the young lady, sir, we can make adjustments.’

‘That’s good to know.’ Haydn wrote out the cheque, pocketed the box and left the shop. He’d done something positive, something he hoped would help show Jane just how much he valued her. Now all he had to do was while away the hours until the theatre opened. Perhaps if he went there now, left a note …

‘Eddie, we need change.’ Alma held up a ten-pound note.

‘Times must be getting better. When I first started helping Charlie out on his stall we never saw anything bigger than half a crown.’ William carried two enormous platters of sliced ham out of the kitchen and set them down behind the counter.

‘Copper and silver, Eddie,’ Alma reminded him.

Eddie removed the apron he wore over his overall and left the shop. It was a short walk down Taff Street to the bank, and it was a glorious day. Good to be outside and in the fresh air.

‘Haydn?’ Jenny waylaid him outside the dress shop next to the New Inn. His feelings for Jane didn’t stop him from casting an admiring eye. She looked stunning. Beautiful and elegant with her pale gold hair knotted into a chignon at the nape of her neck, her lips gleaming with the lightest touch of pink lipstick. She was wearing the same grey suit she’d worn as her ‘going away’ outfit, with a shopping basket hanging somewhat incongruously on her arm.

‘Sister-in-law.’ He went to tip his hat then realised he’d left the house in such a hurry he wasn’t wearing one.

‘Haydn, I must talk to you.’ She pulled at his sleeve in an attempt to draw him out of the flow of pedestrian traffic.

‘I’m not talking to you again without Eddie around.’

‘It’s not what you think. Please, couldn’t we go somewhere? Somewhere public, like Ronconi’s where everyone can see us. What possible harm could there be in that?’

‘A lot, if people see us and talk.’

‘Haydn, you don’t understand me. I have to tell you something, about Eddie and me. I really want to make our marriage work …’

Eddie saw them as he passed the entrance to Market Square. He didn’t look at their faces; he didn’t have to. There wasn’t another man in Pontypridd with hair as blond as Haydn’s, or another suit like the Howell’s special that Jenny was wearing. Rage erupted. The street, the sky, the buildings whirled in a bizarre kaleidoscope of crimson fragments. Clenching his fingers into fists he moved towards them. Jenny saw him first. The smile died on her lips as she looked into his eyes. Haydn stepped back, but not far enough.

Jenny screamed as Eddie’s fist connected with Haydn’s jaw. Haydn flew backwards, crashing into the central display window of the dress shop. Glass shattered beneath his weight, flinging him into a chaotic jumble of jagged splinters and smashed dummies. He landed on his back, one leg twisted beneath him, his body a broken and bloody mess. Men came running, one or two of them in the blue and silver livery of the New Inn. Jenny’s scream died in her throat as people started shouting to one another. There was a cry for a telephone call to be made for an ambulance. Numbed and shocked, she reeled towards the figure on the ground.

‘You did this, sonny?’ A policeman stepped between her and Eddie. She forced herself to look at her husband. His face was ashen, drained of every vestige of colour.

‘You did this?’ the policeman repeated.

‘He did.’ A woman wriggled through the thickening crowd. ‘I saw it all. He did it,’ she jabbed her finger into Eddie’s chest. He didn’t even flinch.

‘You’d best come with me.’ The policeman took his arm. Eddie wrenched it from his grasp.

‘Haydn! That’s my brother. Why isn’t anyone helping him? I have to …’

The policeman was joined by another. Between them they succeeded in restraining Eddie.

‘We’ve found a doctor, we’ve sent for an ambulance. It’ll be here soon.’ The man who spoke was wearing a porter’s cap.

A woman unlocked a wooden door at the back of the shattered window. Eddie watched someone step through it and move towards Haydn. He was carrying a brown leather doctor’s bag. Kneeling among the broken glass, he bent over Haydn’s head. The crowd pushed forward, pressing around the policemen who had trapped his arms in elbow locks. He could hear the whispers …

‘It’s Haydn Powell.’

‘Go on, it isn’t.’

‘It is, I’d know him anywhere. I saw him in the Town Hall.’

‘Someone’s husband got him, by the look of things.’

‘Probably deserved it too from what I’ve heard.’

‘Eddie,’ Jenny floated into view. An arm was wrapped around her shoulders, supporting her. ‘Eddie?’

He saw her, heard her speak, but would allow nothing to distract his attention from the lifeless figure on the ground.

‘You know this young man, Miss?’ one of the policemen asked.

‘He’s my husband.’

‘His name?’

‘Eddie Powell. That’s his brother Haydn.’ She turned to the window, watched as the ambulance men crunched their way over the carpet of broken glass. One of them accidentally jarred the window frame. A thin spear of glass trembled and plunged downwards. A gasp tore through the crowd, the doctor looked up and swung his case over Haydn’s chest. The point pierced the leather, shuddered and fell harmlessly to the side.

‘The sooner we get him out of here, the better. Move him carefully now. That’s it, gently … gently…’

Jenny heard the Cardiff accent and realised the doctor was Trevor Lewis. She stepped forward as the stretcher was eased out of the display case. Haydn was swathed in red blankets, his fair hair matted with congealing gobs of blood that were already turning black, his skin masked with a red that sparkled with the glint of glittering shards.

‘He’s dead!’

The man holding her strengthened his grip.

‘We hope not, Miss,’ one of the policemen said flatly. ‘For your husband’s sake, as well as that poor sod’s.’

‘Looks like this fell out of his pocket.’ The woman who’d opened up the window handed the policeman a small, bloodied leather box. He opened it. Both Jenny and Eddie saw the ring nestled on the background of deep red satin. A solitaire engagement ring.

‘He was showing it to me. He’d just bought it. For Jane.’

Eddie couldn’t look Jenny in the eye. Holding out his hands, he allowed the policemen to handcuff him and lead him away.

Chapter Twenty-five

‘You’re late,’ Joe Evans said curtly as Jane ran up the stairs ten minutes before the doors were due to open.

‘I know. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.’ She dashed down the corridor to the office, shaking her headdress free from her pocket as she went.

‘Sorry to hear about Haydn, Jane,’ Avril commiserated with her as she walked through the door. ‘Bet the family are upset.’

‘Not as upset as the manager and Mr Evans, or Chuckles and the girls when they found out that they’ve got to go on tonight with Max playing leading man and comic.’

‘Haydn’s not performing?’ Jane looked from Myrtle to Avril.

‘You don’t know?’ Ann, who was quicker than the others, asked. ‘About Haydn,’ she continued in response to the blank look on Jane’s face. ‘His brother attacked him.’

‘Eddie?’

‘It was awful,’ Myrtle chipped in. ‘I saw it. Well, some of it,’ she qualified. ‘I was over the road, in front of Woolworth’s at the time. Heard the crash then everyone went running to see what had happened. And there he was, lying on his back amongst all that broken glass in the dress shop window. There was blood everywhere. Well, I took one look and thought, that’s it. He’s a goner. Even the ambulance man who carried him out said he was more dead than alive. If that nice young Dr Lewis hadn’t been drinking in the New Inn, there’s no saying what would have happened. He did something to stop all the blood pumping out of him -’

‘That brother of his should be shot, hitting him through a plate-glass window like that,’ Myra interrupted. ‘Soon as Mr Evans heard about it, he got Chuckles and drove him up to the Cottage Hospital. Babs said they told them it could be months before Haydn’s fit to work again. That’s if anyone offers him a tour with all that damage to his face. One thing’s certain: he’s not going to come out of this as pretty as he went in, and that’s always supposing he comes out at all.’

‘Stop it, Myra,’ Anne ordered sharply, watching Jane. ‘Last I heard, he’s going to make it.’

‘Two minutes to opening.’ Joe Evans popped his head around the office door. ‘Come on, what’s got into you girls tonight?’

‘Jane didn’t know about Haydn, Mr Evans,’ Myra explained as she picked up one of the sheaves of programmes laid out on the desk.

‘Bad business.’ Joe Evans shook his head.

‘He is going to be all right, isn’t he, Mr Evans?’ Jane asked. ‘You must know. Avril said you went to see him this afternoon.’

‘When I was there he was in a different kind of theatre to the one he’s used to. They were trying to stitch his head back together.’

He squinted at her. ‘But you must know all this, you live with the family.’

‘I moved out this morning.’

The footsteps of the first patrons coming up the stairs echoed into the office.

‘We’ve got a theatre to run.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Evans.’ She pinned on her cap.

‘Your programmes,’ He heaped a pile into her arms. ‘There’s notices everywhere, but you’d better warn those who bought their tickets beforehand that Haydn’s been replaced. If they don’t want to stay they can get a refund at the box-office.’

She nodded, all she was capable of doing.

‘Come and see me between the houses. I’ll telephone the Cottage Hospital to see if there’s any better news.’

‘Mr Evans.’ She hesitated in the doorway. ‘You will tell me if the news is the other kind?’

He was about to utter a platitude, when he looked into her eyes. ‘I’ll tell you whatever they tell me.’

‘Thank you, Mr Evans.’ She squared her shoulders and walked away.

‘You’re bloody lucky he wasn’t killed, Eddie.’ Evan Powell sat opposite his son in a cold, comfortless cell in the basement of the police station. ‘I’ve always said that temper of yours was going to be the death of you some day, but I never thought it would be the death of Haydn too. What on earth possessed you?’

‘It doesn’t matter, Dad, not now. Tell Haydn I’m sorry …’

‘Tell him yourself.’

‘He really is going to be all right?’

‘He won’t be singing for a while. Or appearing on stage. His right leg’s broken and his face looks like it’s been marked out for a jigsaw pattern, but Andrew said the break is a clean one and the scars on his face should fade eventually. Until they do he’ll just have to put on a couple of extra layers of make-up.’

‘I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just went wild.’

‘Because you saw him with Jenny?’

‘Yes.’ Eddie walked to the barred window, set high against the ceiling. The light had faded, dusk was falling, and all he could think of was that if it hadn’t been for chance, and Trevor Lewis’s quick actions, this day could have been his brother’s last.

‘Jenny said they were just talking. Haydn had bought a ring for Jane.’

‘I know that now.’

‘Well I’ve said all I’ve come to say. And that look on your face says everything I want to know. It’s one hell of a way to learn a lesson, but I know that you’ll think twice about hitting any man outside of the boxing ring again. Come on boy, time to go, your wife’s waiting.’

‘I can leave?’

‘Andrew paid the bill for the damages at the shop. Haydn’s been interviewed in hospital and he’s not willing to press charges, and your Uncle Huw has persuaded the sergeant to drop the charge of affray. You’re lucky and free.’

Eddie picked up his jacket.

‘But before you start work tomorrow, you go and see your brother in hospital and square everything with him. You boys mean a lot to me. Both of you. I won’t have you splitting up the family. Not after all we’ve been through.’

White, strained and still wearing the same costume that she’d worn into town that morning, Jenny sat waiting in the foyer of the police station. She watched through an open doorway as the duty officer returned Eddie’s personal possessions, and gave him the form to sign for them. Evan patted his son on the back, and gave her a tight smile as he passed her on the way out.

Eddie walked slowly towards her, cap pulled low over his face, jacket slung over one shoulder.

‘Eddie, I’m sorry. We were only talking.’

‘I know.’

She followed him outside into the yard. ‘He wants to marry Jane.’

‘So I’ve heard.’ He turned to face her. ‘Go on back to the house.’

‘Leyshon Street?’

‘Whichever house you want.’

‘You won’t be coming home tonight?’

Home! A place he’d never even been to and she called it home!

‘I won’t be there. Not tonight.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘I’ll be in touch.’

‘Eddie, I’m your wife. You can’t avoid me for ever.’

‘I have to see Haydn.’

‘Tomorrow then.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘They wouldn’t let me see Haydn, so I asked if you were here.’

‘And I am. Come in, Eddie,’ Andrew dropped the pen he’d been using to write up medication records. ‘Sit down.’

‘He is going to be all right, isn’t he?’

‘Barring accidents he’s going to be fine.’

‘I thought he was dead.’

‘Dead people don’t bleed that much.’

‘Please, I need to know the truth. How bad is it?’

‘There’s no damage done that can’t be cured by care and time. It was fortunate that Trevor was idling away his time in the New Inn. He stopped the bleeding before it got to the dangerous stage. Most of the serious cuts are to the back of his head and will eventually be hidden by his hair. We’ve X-rayed him, there’s no skull fractures. The wounds to his face are fairly superficial, and should heal soon. But, there’s still the broken leg, a bad concussion, and shock of course. He’ll probably be here for a few days.’

‘But he will live?’

Andrew thought he’d never seen such a mixture of guilt and misery on a face before. ‘He’ll live,’ he repeated as he left his chair. ‘But as you obviously aren’t convinced, you’d better come with me.’

‘Now?’

‘I can’t think of a better time if you’re going to sleep tonight. But I warn you, he’s not a pretty sight. Definitely a case of looking worse than he is.’

Haydn was in a single-bedded side ward. That in itself worried Eddie, as he could see a room lined with what seemed like dozens of beds up ahead. That had to mean Haydn’s condition was more serious than that of the other patients. A nurse who was sitting with him rose when Andrew entered. He picked up the chart at the foot of the bed and signalled for her to go outside.

‘A few minutes, Eddie,’ he said as he followed her out. ‘And be careful not to tire or upset him.’

Haydn was lying on his back. From what little that could be seen of his face beneath the copious layers of bandages, his eyes were closed. Eddie crept up to the chair.

‘Haydn?’

One red, swollen eye opened, then more slowly the other.

‘Haydn, I’m sorry …’

‘So am I, mate.’ The bandages moved slightly as Haydn attempted a smile, but he abandoned the gesture. It was too painful, even though the effect of the anaesthetic hadn’t quite worn off.

‘You see, I thought …’

‘I love Jane, not Jenny,’ Haydn mumbled through swollen lips.

‘I know that now. Andrew says you’re going to be all right.’

‘It’s useful having a doctor in the family.’ Haydn was having trouble focusing. Everything was blurred, including his brother; if he hadn’t known him better he would have said he was crying. ‘When I get out we’ll go to the New Inn, your treat. Me, you, Jenny and Jane. You’re a lucky sod, kid. You’ve a good career in the ring ahead of you, and a wife who loves you.’

‘You think so?’

‘She may not know it yet, but she will. People do funny things.’ Haydn’s voice grew faint. Eddie had to bend forward to catch what he was saying. ‘They conjure up a soul-mate and fit the first person who comes along into their idea of a dream lover. I tried to do it with Jane before I saw who she really was. I think Jenny did it with me after I went away. But I’m the dream and you’re real, Eddie … you’re real …’

‘That’s enough.’ Andrew walked into the room and replaced the charts. ‘It’s time the patient slept.’

‘See you, Eddie.’ Haydn’s eyes were already closing.

Eddie went into the corridor. He sank into the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands. He was still sitting there a few moments later when Andrew passed.

‘Come on, time we both went home. I’ll give you a lift.’

‘I could have killed him.’

‘You could have, but you didn’t. Try remembering that.’

‘I hope you don’t mind me calling so late, but I’ve come to see how Haydn is.’ Yesterday Jane had lived in this house, today she was hovering at the front door wondering what kind of reception she’d get, uncertain as to whether or not Haydn had told his family about the pin-up photographs – or even worse shown them.

‘He’s going to be all right,’ Phyllis said as she ushered her through to the kitchen.

‘You’ve seen him?’

‘We all have.’

‘And I’ve just left him.’

Jane only just managed to conceal her surprise at the sight of Eddie sitting at the table. After what Myra had said she’d expected him to be in jail.

‘Tea?’ Phyllis asked the room in general.

‘No thanks, I’m swimming in the stuff.’

‘Pity they don’t have beer on tap in the hospital.’ William winked at Jane.

‘You’ll have tea, won’t you?’ Phyllis asked Jane as she set the kettle on to boil.

‘No thank you. I only called to find out how Haydn is. First night in new digs, the landlady will be wondering where I am.’

‘You’ve found a good place?’ Phyllis pressed, hoping for the address.

‘It’s fine, and the landlady is really nice.’

‘And you’ll come and see us?’

‘I’ll keep in touch,’ Jane replied ambiguously.

‘If you’re set on going, I’ll walk you. I could do with a breath of fresh air,’ Evan offered.

‘No.’ Jane said quickly. ‘It’s not far, and I’ll enjoy five minutes’ peace and quiet. The Town Hall can get a bit hectic.’

‘You could go and see Haydn if you like. Visiting’s every Wednesday and Saturday, but if you time it when Andrew John is around, he’ll let you in for a few minutes.’

‘I won’t be able to visit. It’s just that the girls in the Town Hall were worried, so I said I’d come up and ask how he is. Everyone will be pleased to hear he’s going to be all right.’

‘He won’t be back on stage for a few weeks yet.’

‘Give him our best wishes.’

‘Our?’ Phyllis asked.

‘All the staff.’ Jane opened the door.

‘I’ll see you out.’ Phyllis walked Jane to the front steps.

‘And I’m for bed. Don’t stay up too late, you two.’ Evan closed the kitchen door behind him.

‘You all right, nipper?’ William asked as Eddie slumped over the table.

‘Would you be if you were me?’

‘There’s no permanent harm done.’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘Look on the bright side. While you carry on packing punches like that, the Nazis aren’t going to set their sights on Ponty.’

The kitchen was very still after everyone had gone. Eddie sat staring into space, trying not to think about what might have happened. It was no use. Every time he closed his eyes an image of Haydn lying lifeless and covered in blood amongst the debris of the shop window came to mind. Pacing to the range he saw a copy of the Pontypridd Observer on Evan’s chair. An advertisement on the front page caught his eye.

WELSH GUARDS

Volunteers required now for the WELSH GUARDS.

Age 20-35. Height 5ft 9ins or over.

Men can present themselves for enlistment at all Recruiting Centres.

Enquiries will be answered at all Police Stations.

Men registered to be called up under National Service, but not already called, may enlist now in the WELSH GUARDS.

Enlistment on normal engagement, or for the duration of war.

‘You can’t run from me. I’m your wife.’

He couldn’t run from Jenny while he stayed in Pontypridd, but there was one way of avoiding her, and all his problems, for the duration.

He opened the drawer in the huge old oak dresser that dominated the wall opposite the window and extracted a long, flat cardboard box. Inside he found what he was looking for: a pen, writing paper and envelopes.

*……*……*

‘What you doing?’

‘Getting clean clothes.’