Tiger Bay Blues (23 page)

‘You’re speaking for Edyth already, Slater.’ Lloyd pushed his pipe into his mouth but he didn’t attempt to light it.

‘We just want to be married so Peter can have the parish, Dad,’ Edyth said quietly.

‘The church service will be the most important part of the proceedings and I hope the Bishop will consent to officiate. But the guest list will be small. My only relatives are my mother and my aunt, although I would like to invite the wives of the Bishop, Dean and Reverend Price,’ Peter added.

‘As you are aware, our family is large and Edyth couldn’t possibly get married without all her brothers and sisters present. And then there are my brothers, their wives and children, and all our friends, who will expect to be invited just as they were to Bella and Toby’s wedding. If we do any less for Edyth than we did for Bella, people will assume that we disapprove of her choice of husband,’ Lloyd said shortly, leaving ‘with some justification’ hanging unspoken in the air.

‘Yes, sir.’ Peter knew he’d been rebuked and looked suitably humbled. Edyth could have hugged him for not arguing.

‘We’ll ask some of our friends to move over to your side of the church so it doesn’t look too lop-sided, as we did in Bella and Toby’s wedding.’ Sali began to concentrate on the practical aspects of the arrangements because they were easier to cope with than the emotional damage to Lloyd and, she suspected, Edyth. ‘First we need to set a date. Do you want the ceremony to take place in St Catherine’s?’

‘As it’s Edyth’s local church it would be the most suitable,’ Peter concurred. ‘The banns will have to be called and they take three weeks. We could set a date for a month from now.’

‘That won’t give us much time to order clothes and a cake. And that will take us into October.’ Sali frowned. ‘It will be cold in a marquee and the house isn’t large enough for everyone.’

‘We’ll hold the wedding breakfast in the New Inn, or, if it is booked, the Park Hotel,’ Lloyd said.

‘Won’t that be very expensive, sir?’ Peter ventured.

‘That is my concern as the father of the bride.’

‘As Lloyd said, we can’t do any less for you and Edyth than we did for Bella and Toby.’ Sali attempted to soften Lloyd’s harshness.

‘Just one thing, sir. I would prefer not to have a jazz band, if you don’t mind.’

Edyth was mortified. She felt that in that one request Peter had emphasised the divide between himself and her family. And when she heard her father’s reply, she wished the ground would swallow her up.

‘Which would you prefer, Slater: a church organ recital, or a hymn-singing choir?’

Chapter Twelve

Judy Hamilton sat in the centre of the upstairs sitting room of the Norwegian church, surrounded by most of the residents of the Bay. Practically everyone she knew was there – her uncles, aunts, cousins, friends and neighbours – yet she had never felt more alone.

People were talking about her grandmother as if she had been dead for years not days. Then she realised from the shouts of laughter from her grandmother’s elderly friends as they exchanged amusing anecdotes about the young, newly married Pearl King and her dashing West Indian husband, the past was the land of preference for old people.

Her young cousins sat rapt, listening in silence, wary of making a noise lest someone notice them and shoo them out of earshot of the ‘grown-up’ conversation. Her Uncle Tony began to weave a story that described how twelve-year-old Pearl Plummer had left her parents and nine brothers in the house of her birth, in the mining village of Bedwas, because ten miners in one house – whom she had to help her mother wash, cook, clean and get baths for were nine too many. He painted the many and varied adventures that had led her down to Tiger Bay, in terms that would have done credit to the Brothers Grimm.

‘… You’ve seen the house in Loudoun Square where she worked. Seen it, but not gone inside or counted all the marble fireplaces that she had to clean out every morning, scrub, polish, and lay and light fires in. She had to make twelve trips out to the bins behind the basement kitchen just to dump the ash.

‘The mistress was very particular, the cook and housekeeper even more so. They wouldn’t tolerate a speck of coal on the carpets or a hint of dust. But every other Wednesday,’ he dropped his voice to a whisper, ‘young Pearl had two whole hours off. From seven until nine in the evening. And being Pearl, and always looking to help others, she used to go down to the John Cory Sailors and Soldiers Rest Home where she served tea and coffee and handed out library books. And there, one freezing cold winter’s night, a handsome young West Indian seaman called Jeremiah King walked in, took one look at her …’ Tony raised his eyebrows, ‘and knowing a good thing when he saw it, carried her off and married her in less than a week because he’d already signed up for another voyage to the Caribbean. And he wasn’t prepared to run the risk of a rival stepping in and taking the love of his life. On their wedding day she wore a dress of pure French lace embroidered with real pearls …’

‘One day those little ones will be telling that story to their grandchildren, to explain the colour of their skin.’ Micah Holsten perched on the arm of Judy’s chair.

‘Uncle Tony makes me wish I’d never said, “Oh no, Gran, please not that old tale again.”’

‘We’re all guilty of not listening enough to our parents. We never appreciate them until they’ve gone.’ Micah spoke from the heart – and from bitter experience. He handed her a plate containing two sandwiches and a slice of homemade sponge.

‘Thank you, I’m not hungry,’ she said politely.

‘You have to eat.’

‘I will. Just not bloater paste sandwiches and quince jam sponge.’ She gave him a small smile. After days of grief and misery her face muscles felt stiff and strange.

‘Don’t let Mrs George catch you saying that; she made them,’ he warned. ‘In fact, just about everyone in the Bay brought one or two plates around this morning for the funeral tea. I only hope they recognise their crockery when this finishes. Our cupboards will never hold the extra.’

‘I had no idea Gran knew so many people.’

‘She knew everyone, rich, poor, respectable and less so.’ He nodded to Anna Hughes, who was setting out a tray of shop-bought pasties on the buffet table. ‘There can’t be a soul left in a house or on the streets in the whole of the Bay. And I’ve never seen so many flowers covering a coffin, which says a great deal about the love and respect everyone had for your grandmother.’ He looked keenly at her. ‘I wish I could say something to comfort you.’

‘Thank you for trying, Mr Holsten, but at the moment I just feel numb. Then occasionally it hits me that she’s gone and I’ll never see her again, and I start crying.’

‘I remember how I felt when my father and mother died within two weeks of one another from diphtheria. I believed my world had come to an end. It took me a long time to develop an interest in life again.’

‘You were lucky to know your parents.’

‘I was, and you were lucky to have your gran.’ Micah deliberately changed the subject. ‘Jed tells me that you’re moving in with him and his family.’

‘Gran’s cleaning jobs in the pubs paid the rent and my money bought us food. I’ll never manage to keep the house going on my own, and the landlord knows it. He already had someone interested in taking it, and at a higher rent than we were paying. It’s good of Uncle Jed to take me in.’

‘He loves you like a daughter.’

‘He has a houseful of children of his own,’ she said pointedly.

Micah allowed the comment to pass. Judy and her grandmother had enjoyed the luxury of space, which was a rare commodity on the Bay. Jed and his wife had six children – four girls and two boys – and another on the way. It was anyone’s guess where Judy would sleep in their small three-bedroomed terrace.

‘I know that my uncles and their families are grieving as much as I am,’ Judy murmured, ‘although they didn’t live with her. They were only a few doors away but it’s not the same as living in a house with someone. I’m not just losing the only parent I’ve ever known, Mr Holsten, but my home. I’m not ungrateful, and it’s not that I don’t love Uncle Jed and his family, but it won’t be like living with Gran. The evenings we spent together were so special. She was always rushing around working in the day but after tea in winter we’d sit in front of the range and in summer we’d carry our chairs out into the street.’

‘I often saw the two of you. And your hands were never still.’

‘Gran was always making something: stitching quilts or knitting pullovers for the boys, or making dresses for the girls. Sometimes we’d talk, sometimes it was good just to sit together and not say a word.’

‘You all right, Judy?’ Jed stood behind them and leaned over Judy’s chair.

‘Yes, thank you, Uncle Jed.’

‘If you pack your things this afternoon, I’ll carry them round to our house. The rent’s paid until the end of the week but it’s probably going to take us that long to clear and clean the house. You do know that Mam left you all her jewellery and china?’

‘It should be shared.’

‘Your mother was Mam’s only daughter so it’s fitting it goes to you, Judy,’ he said decisively. ‘I want to thank you and Helga, Micah, for laying on this spread.’

‘I was just telling Judy, we didn’t. All we did was put up the tables; they filled themselves.’

‘It’ll still be a lot of work to clear up after this lot.’ Jed looked at the children running around with slices of cake in their hands, oblivious to the crumbs they were scattering in their wake.

‘Mr King … Mr King …’ Patterson’s butcher’s boy ran up the stairs and looked around frantically for Jed. He was red-faced, and puffing and panting so much he couldn’t get another word out.

‘Come on, boy, what is it?’ Tony was annoyed at the interruption that had diverted the attention of his audience from the tale of the thieving African monkey his father had brought home from one of his voyages.

‘Mr Patterson said I was to get you and that you were to come at once. He was delivering meat to your street when he saw it outside Mrs King’s house. Mrs King that was …’ He gave Jed’s wife a sideways glance.

‘Saw what?’ Tony demanded.

‘A lorry. They’d loaded up all her all furniture and everything …’

Jed, Tony and Ron didn’t wait to hear any more. They dashed out through the door, their boots clattering a staccato drumbeat on the wooden staircase. Judy charged after them. Micah caught up with her, took her hand and ran after the brothers.

‘I tried arguing with them.’ Brian Patterson pushed his cap to the back of his head and faced the three King brothers. ‘But they had a legal bill of sale, signed by your brother-in-law, Joshua Hamilton. I told them straight that the house contents weren’t his to sell. Even sent the boy to get the police. But they’d finished stripping the house before I arrived and they drove off before the boy even reached the end of the street. Not that it would have made any difference. Constable Jones came round on patrol five minutes after they’d left, and he said it would be a matter for the courts.’

‘You seen the lorry driver before, Brian?’ Jed asked.

‘Never set eyes on him. Nasty piece of work, gave the impression that he was looking for trouble and didn’t care where he found it. He said his boss had paid for the goods, fair and square. He’d been ordered to pick them up, and pick them up he would. I would have tried to keep him here until you came, but he had five other men with him. Great big hulking brutes they were, too. Looked like bailiffs. And they’d just about cleared the place by the time I got here.’

‘Did he say anything else that you can recall?’ Jed pressed.

‘The driver said the man who’d sold the contents to his boss was most particular about the time they had to be picked up. Today between ten and eleven in the morning. Any other time and the deal was off.’

‘When we were in the cemetery burying Mam.’ Jed clenched his fists impotently.

‘The bastard,’ Tony swore, forgetting his niece’s presence. ‘We told him to stay away but it wouldn’t have taken much asking around for him to find out the time of the funeral.’

‘When I find Joshua Hamilton, I’ll kill him.’ Ron, the quietest of the brothers, was vehement.

‘The milkman said he sailed out on the
Sukhov
last night, bound for Russia.’

Judy walked past her uncles and went into the house. The parlour had been stripped of everything except the linoleum on the floor and the wallpaper. She turned away, not wanting to see the lighter squares where her grandmother’s precious family photographs had hung, protecting the walls from the smoke of the occasional rare fire that had been lit in the room.

The bed her grandmother had bought as a bride, in which she had given birth to all her children, and died, her furniture, linen, even her clothes had gone. Nothing remained. Judy ran upstairs. The doors to all three bedrooms were open. The only object left in her room was a single hairclip lying on the bare floorboards.

Micah Holsten followed her. When he saw her shoulders shaking he held out his arms. She went to him, buried her head in his chest and started crying. Not the resigned, silent tears she had shed over her grandmother’s death but sobs that shook her entire body. ‘I have nothing left. Nothing! Just this black dress. There was six shillings in the box on the mantelpiece: it’s gone. Everything’s gone. Our dishes … the family photographs … her clothes … all the ornaments … the family Bible … her jewellery … all gone … ’

Micah knew it wasn’t the few shillings or even her grandmother’s things that Judy was crying for, but the way of life that had suddenly been taken from her. And she didn’t even have a single keepsake left to remember it by.

Jed came up the stairs, Tony and Ron behind him.

‘Two quid. Two bloody quid!’ Tony’s voice was hoarse from shock. ‘He sold Mam’s entire life for two quid.’

‘We could try to buy it back,’ Ron suggested.

‘With what?’ Tony asked.

‘We could borrow the money if we have to,’ Jed said.

‘But Brian Patterson said the driver and all the men were outsiders. They could have come from anywhere – Swansea, Newport, Bridgend. Our mam’s things could be lying in a warehouse or on a market stall right now. We’ll never find them.’

‘I’ll go to the police and find out if there’s anything we can do,’ Ron muttered.

‘Tony, go with him,’ Jed ordered. He looked in what had been Judy’s bedroom and Micah pushed his niece gently towards him.

‘I’ll ask round the Bay. Perhaps one of the other delivery boys saw something,’ Micah said.

‘It’ll probably be a waste of time,’ Jed said flatly.

‘Judy needs clothes and things. I’ll ask my sister to see what she can do.’ Micah clasped Jed’s shoulder and walked back down the stairs.

The month of September and early October passed in a surreal whirl of preparations for Edyth. Her arm turned blue from the number of times she pinched herself to prove she wasn’t dreaming. Most days she felt as though she were in a theatre watching a play unfold on stage rather than one of the principal participants in an actual event.

Almost by default the decision had been made. She was to marry Peter. It was what she wanted – wasn’t it? It was the reason she had run away from college. But she tried not to think too hard about the life beyond the wedding ceremony that had been suddenly mapped out for her, especially at night when she couldn’t sleep. Instead she concentrated on her love for Peter, his for her, and the practical decisions that had to be made. Like what flowers she should have in her bouquet and the menu for the wedding breakfast.

Her parents ignored her repeated assertions that she would be happy to marry Peter in sackcloth, and continued to insist that they couldn’t do any less for her than they had for Bella. So, her mother and younger sisters threw themselves into planning the day, but Edyth knew, as did her father, that her mother was simply keeping busy to conceal her misgivings about the way she’d forced them to give their consent to her marriage.

Her father was uncharacteristically silent and taciturn, especially in her presence, but although their relationship had been irrevocably damaged by her flight from college, he signed the bills her mother left on his desk without a murmur about extravagance or expense.

Edyth only wished that she could have enjoyed the excitement of preparing for her wedding as Bella had done less than two months before, but the knowledge that her parents, and especially her beloved father, disapproved of her choice of husband blighted any happiness she might have felt. Not that either of them gave her any cause for reproach. Her father attended the discussions over menu and decorations at the New Inn Hotel, her mother oversaw her dress fittings at Gwilym James and helped her pick out her sisters’ bridesmaids’ dresses, but both of them constantly deferred to her, reminding her that it was ‘her and Peter’s day’ not the family’s, a phrase she couldn’t remember ever hearing when Bella’s wedding had been at the planning stage.