Tiger Ragtime (25 page)

‘I’ve also met your brother-in-law, David. In fact, he’s working for me – indirectly.’

‘David doesn’t know the first thing about running a nightclub,’ Harry said quickly.

‘No, he doesn’t – yet. But he knew enough about carpentry to impress my builder who hired him. As for running a nightclub, I didn’t know anything about running one when I started.’

‘Have you been deliberately seeking out my family?’ Harry asked bluntly.

‘What if I say yes?’ Aled rejoined coolly.

‘Why did you come back here?’

‘To Britain or Wales?’

‘Cardiff.’

‘I didn’t know that you would be here, but given that I knew you’d inherited the family fortune I guessed you wouldn’t be too far away. And, as I said, things were getting too hot for me in America.’ He looked back at Mansel’s photograph. ‘My roots are here. Did you know that Americans set great store by their roots? Some are so busy looking back at the “old country”, wherever it might be, they haven’t the time to make a new life for themselves. That didn’t apply to me. But I admit, it’s good to be living in a country where I feel completely at home.’

‘Given the life we led in Bush Houses, I didn’t think you’d be the nostalgic type.’

‘I’m not, but I capitalised on other people’s homesickness. I made it my business to find out what they missed from their old lives, got hold of it and made a fortune selling it.’

‘Like what?’

‘You don’t expect me to give away my trade secrets, do you?’ Aled said smoothly.

‘Did your mother go to America with you?’

‘She died years ago.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Where were you, when you were twelve years old?’ Aled enquired conversationally.

‘At school.’

‘Lucky you. Sitting in a nice cosy classroom all day, going home every night to Mam in the mansion our father grew up in.’

‘I was in boarding school,’ Harry said flatly.

Aled laughed mirthlessly. ‘Of course, you would have been put into a posh kids’ school. Don’t try telling me that it was tough on you.’

‘No more for me than any other boy.’ Harry was determined to remain calm in the face of Aled’s taunting.

‘When I was twelve, I was unloading potato barges on the docks for pennies. And when I wasn’t doing that, I was watching my mother die slowly in a stinking room at the back of a whorehouse. She was too weak from disease and starvation to turn over on the mattress I scavenged from a tip for her, let alone stand on her own two feet.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yes.’ Harry met Aled’s steely gaze.

‘So, if you had been in a position to help us, you would have?’

‘If you’d allowed me to.’

‘Oh, I would have allowed you to all right, for my mother’s sake. I don’t have to tell you what she was, but a dog wouldn’t have been allowed to die the way she did.’ Aled flicked the ash from his cigar into the ashtray. ‘But the manager of Gwilym James in Pontypridd wouldn’t lift a finger to help her. One of my mother’s friends wrote to him. She told him that my mother was destitute and dying but he wouldn’t give her a single penny.’

‘If your mother made a claim she would have received an annuity.ʼ

‘My mother never received a brass farthing from Mansel James or anyone connected to him,’ Aled said frostily. ‘The only money we ever had was what she earned looking after other people’s brats – like you. But when the miners came out on strike in the Rhondda, no one could afford to pay her to look after their kids. It was then she found herself with a choice: starve or sell herself to put food on the table. Have you any idea how that made her feel? Or me?’

‘I’ve already said I would have done something if I could have. But I wasn’t in a position to then.’

‘But your mother was. Your mother didn’t have to get dolled up every night to trawl the pubs to pick up men and do whatever they wanted of her just to keep out of the workhouse. Your mother was already working for Gwilym James when my mother was dying, living in the mansion in Pontypridd that had been our father’s with your stepfather and sisters –’

‘You know a lot about my family,’ Harry broke in suspiciously.

‘I made it my business to find out.’

‘Before or after you went to America?’

‘I left Cardiff for America the day I buried my mother,’

Aled continued without answering Harry’s question. ‘It seemed a good idea at the time to get out of this place. It didn’t seem so good when I was horsewhipped by the drunken second mate before we were even out of the Bay.’

‘If it’s money you want –’

‘That’s all you can think about, isn’t it? Our father’s money.’ Aled squashed his cigar in the ashtray. ‘I don’t want a penny of it.’

Uncertain how to respond to Aled’s bitterness, Harry remained silent.

‘I’ve learned two lessons in life. The first is money is only important when you haven’t any. And, as you said earlier, there’s only so much a man can spend in one lifetime. The second is that once you have more money than you need you can use the surplus to buy anything or anyone you want. And I intend to use my wealth to do just that.’

‘To buy people?’

‘Influential people, who can give me what I want,’ he reiterated.

‘Like your club?’

‘I have my gambling, alcohol, and live entertainment licences, so there’s no point in you trying to pull any political strings to stop me.’

‘I didn’t intend to.’

‘No?’ Aled asked sceptically.

‘No,’ Harry replied firmly.

‘I’ve also bought your brother-in-law. I think David Ellis might prove to be quite an asset.’

Harry broke into a cold sweat. ‘You hurt David or any member of my family –’

‘Did I say I was going to hurt him – or Edyth Slater?’ Aled pushed his chair back from the table and rose slowly to his feet. ‘She’s your sister, Harry, not mine. And, with her husband gone, “footloose and fancy free” as the saying goes.’

‘Aled, please –’

‘Watch your back, Harry Evans,’ Aled cut in ruthlessly. ‘Watch it everywhere you go, David Ellis and Edyth Slater are just the beginning.’

‘We’re brothers …’

‘That, Harry Evans, is something I will never forget.’ Aled returned his gold cigar case and lighter to his pocket and left the room.

Chapter Thirteen

Gertie opened her eyes to see David watching her in the gloom of the curtained bedroom.

‘Enjoy that?’ she smiled lazily.

‘What do you think?’ He wrapped his arm around her naked body and cupped her breast.

‘I like to leave a man satisfied.’

David deliberately pushed all thoughts of Edyth from his mind. He loved her – had loved her before he had seen her kissing Micah – but the last person he wanted to talk about Edyth to was Gertie. His feelings for Edyth had been and still were sacred to him. The way he felt about Gertie was anything but. And now he knew how it felt to make love to a woman, he didn’t want to think about Edyth making love to Micah or Peter –that’s if she ever had.

He’d overheard Harry explaining to Mary why Edyth had applied to have her marriage annulled instead of simply divorcing Peter. Harry had said that Peter had never wanted to sleep with Edyth, something he found unbelievable after making love with Gertie.

‘What you thinking about?’

Sensing that Gertie was waiting for a compliment he said, ‘I never in a million years thought that it could be this good between a man and a woman.’

‘That’s because you probably never saw any women besides your sisters on your farm,’ she teased.

‘I saw plenty on Sundays when we went down the valley to chapel.’

‘Sour old matrons in black that smelled of mothballs and lavender water, wearing their Sunday, pickled-onionsucking, disapproving face.’

He laughed. ‘You have a funny way of putting things.’

‘It’s true though, isn’t it?’ she challenged.

‘Some of the older women were like that,’ he conceded.

‘And the younger ones?’

‘There was never much time to talk to them after chapel, although there was a little cracker working in the grocer’s shop in Pontardawe, with come-to-bed eyes. I used to look forward to delivering eggs and butter there every Wednesday.’ He lay back on the pillows, smiling at the memory.

‘And?’ She dug him in the ribs.

‘And nothing. I just used to look at her.’

‘Her come-to-bed eyes, you mean.’

‘One of the delivery boys christened them that. I never had the courage to find out if his description was accurate.’

‘So, all you did was worship her from a distance,’ she snorted in amusement.

‘There wasn’t much else I could do given that the farm was miles from the village. It used to take me an hour and a half to drive down there in the horse and cart in daylight to make the deliveries. It would have been an allnight effort if I’d invited her out for the evening. Not that there was anywhere I could have taken her other than the chapel social.’

‘We lived in the Rhondda and there were lots of places to go, besides the chapel socials: picture palaces, dance halls, roller-skating rinks, concert halls, Italian cafes, and walking on the mountains, which we did more often than anything else because it didn’t cost anything.’

‘Did you go out with a lot of boys in the Rhondda before you came here?’ he asked curiously.

‘One or two.’ Gertie took a pack of cigarettes from her bedside table, opened it and pushed one between her lips. She picked up a box of matches and glanced at David. ‘Sorry, I should have offered. Do you want a ciggie?’

‘That depends on what you’re going to charge me for it.’

‘You – you – monster!’ Her anger turned to laughter when he made a face at her. ‘I suppose I do go on a bit about money. But I have to pay Anna three quid a week to live here, and I send a pound a week home to my mother.’

‘Three pounds!’ he exclaimed. ‘I pay Mrs Brown seventeen shillings and sixpence. And that includes my washing, a cooked breakfast, and a cooked high tea every day.’

‘Mrs Brown doesn’t have to pay the coppers to look the other way when you walk down the street. And it’s all found here. All meals, washing, coals, gas.’ She pointed to the fireplace that had been boarded up to house a small gas fire. ‘Anna even pays our doctor’s bills. She takes care of us. It can be tough down here, making a living the way we do, when you’re on your own.’ She slipped another cigarette into her mouth, struck a match on the side of the cabinet, lit both and passed one to David.

‘Thanks.’ David took it and inhaled. He had smoked the cigarettes and cigars Harry had offered him enough times to know that he didn’t like the taste of tobacco but he didn’t want to risk hurting Gertie’s feelings.

‘You got any brothers as well as sisters?’ Gertie asked.

‘Two brothers, why?’

‘Just wondering.’ She plumped up the pillow behind her and sat up, deliberately allowing the sheet to fall to her waist. She was proud of her breasts and enjoyed David’s blatant admiration. ‘I’m the eldest of ten but two died when they were nippers. One of TB, one of typhoid.’

‘That must have been tough.’

‘Not as tough as when my dad got killed in the pit just before our youngest was born. He fell in front of a tram. Didn’t stand a chance – or so his buttie told my mam. One minute they were standing together talking, the next a runaway tram came crashing towards them and knocked him flying. Mam was determined not to go into the workhouse or put us in there, so we had to survive on ten bob parish relief, which covered the rent, and what she could make scrubbing out the local pub and taking in washing, which meant I had to leave school to look after the little ones.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Ten.’

‘You’re lucky you went for that long. I didn’t go to school at all.’

‘You never learned to read and write?’

‘My brother-in-law taught me a couple of years ago.’

‘I was a good scholar,’ she said earnestly and David sensed that she wasn’t boasting. ‘The headmaster told my dad I was clever enough to win a scholarship to go to college. He said I could become a teacher. But,’ she picked up an ashtray from the cabinet, flicked her ash into it and handed it to David, ‘I had to give up on that idea when Dad was killed.’

‘Are you sorry?’

‘No,’ she giggled. ‘Women teachers are supposed to live the life of dried-up spinsters. They’re not allowed to marry, and I like what we’ve just done too much to give it up. As for doing anything else, this is a damned sight easier and better than skivvying for my keep plus a couple of quid a year below stairs in some posh London house. Or scrubbing out filthy pubs and taking in washing like my mam has had to do for years and still does.’

‘What about your brothers and sisters. Now you’ve left home who is looking after them?’

‘Molly, she’s the next one down from me. When she got to be as good as me in taking care of them and helping Mam with the washing and housework, Mam said I had to go out and earn my keep. Mind you, she didn’t mean here. Just after I registered with a domestic agency one of the girls in our village came home to visit her mam and dad. She was living with Anna at the time, although she’s moved on to London since. She had lovely clothes. Silk frocks, new shoes – not boots – and a fur coat – real fur and she had a matching fur hat, gloves and scarf. She told me that I could earn a lot more here than I could in service. Mam was furious when she found out I’d talked to the girl. She told me that if I went with her she’d never allow me over her doorstep again. But I came down here anyway, and ever since I’ve sent Mam a pound a week. She wrote to tell me that she doesn’t like where it comes from but she’s never sent it back.’

David squashed his half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray. ‘When I came down here Harry warned me about places like this and girls like you. He’d laugh if he could see us now.’

‘Why?’ she demanded, instantly on the defensive. ‘Because this room and this house, or what I’ve seen of it, is so ordinary.’

‘What did you expect?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Yes, you do.’ She laughed again, an infectious chuckle that made him laugh as well. ‘You expected roomfuls of naked girls that you could take your pick from, exotic dancing and snakes.’

‘I definitely didn’t expect snakes. But you can’t blame me for imagining all sorts. There was nothing like this –’

‘On the farm?’ she finished for him.

‘Or in Pontardawe or Brecon.’

‘You can take it from me that if there are men around there’ll be a “house.” And Brecon has soldiers stationed there, doesn’t it?’

‘Close by.’

‘Then I take that back. There won’t be one house, there’ll be dozens.’ She crushed the remains of her cigarette on top of his, removed the ashtray and slid back down in the bed. ‘I like you, David. You’re easy to talk to. Can I call you Dai?’

‘If you want to.’ He moved restlessly away from her when she slid her hand between his thighs.

‘I haven’t had a Dai before.’ She propped herself up on her elbow and looked down at him. ‘You going to become one of my regulars?’

‘What would that mean?’ he asked warily.

‘Coming to see me a couple of times a week. Not going off with one of the other girls if I’m busy, and waiting for me downstairs until I’m free. It’s cosy in our kitchen and there’s always a fresh pot of tea on the table.’ She kissed the base of his neck.

‘That doesn’t sound too bad.’ He played with her nipples.

‘And in return, I’ll be good to you. Awful good,’ she murmured, moving her body slowly and languorously over his until she drew him inside her.

‘That was a good afternoon’s shopping.’ Aled offered Judy his arm after they left Gwilym James.

‘I dread to think how expensive an afternoon’s shopping,’ Judy qualified.

‘That’s for me, not you, to worry about. And we have time for tea in the Park Hotel.’ Aled turned to Freddie, who looked hot and ill at ease in his woollen chauffeur’s jacket and cap. ‘We’ll walk to the Park and, as it’s only a few minutes from there to the theatre, you can go back to the Windsor. I’ll telephone you there if I need you again today.’

Freddie tipped his cap and returned to the car.

Aled waited for a motorcycle and side car to pass before crossing the road. ‘I spoke to George Powell this morning. Your dressing room will be finished by the middle of next week. I’ll give it a day or two to make sure the paint is dry before asking Gwilym James to send the clothes there. And you’ll need a dresser – someone who knows how to apply theatrical make-up, and cut and style hair, as well as care for quality clothes. Do you have anyone in mind?’

‘One of my aunts?’ Judy asked hopefully. ‘I could teach them about stage make-up.’

Aled shook his head. ‘I want someone who knows every trick in the theatrical trade, not an amateur. What about the wardrobe mistress in the theatre?’

‘She’s been in the New Theatre for ever and although she knows clothes she knows nothing about make-up.’

‘The make-up artist?’

‘There isn’t one. We apply our own, even
Peter Pan
and Captain Hook. But there is Mandy. She’s the head chorus girl, and she knows everything there is to know about make-up and clothes.’

‘But she’s a dancer.’

‘She told me that she’s thinking of hanging up her dancing shoes after this run.’

‘Mandy’s the tall blonde who always takes centre stage in the dance numbers?’

‘Yes,’ Judy confirmed.

‘She is getting on a bit for the chorus,’ he said callously. ‘Does she live on the Bay?’

‘No, she’s from West Wales but she’s played all over the country. England as well as Wales.’

‘A well-travelled lady indeed,’ Aled commented with a smile. ‘I’ll have a word with her after I’ve spoken to Lennie.’

‘You offered him the job of comic?’

‘Yes, and he’s taken it on principle but we still have a few details like salary to thrash out.’

The doorman bowed to Aled before opening the door of the Park Hotel. Aled acknowledged the man and strode into the foyer as if he owned the place. Half a dozen people were waiting to be attended to at the desk. A bell boy was loading luggage on to a trolley next to the lift. Two old ladies were sitting side by side on a sofa, gossiping. The receptionist glanced up, saw Judy and froze.

Judy’s grip tightened on Aled’s arm when every head in the room turned in their direction. All conversation ceased. She met the receptionist’s look and steeled herself for another scene. But Aled walked her straight to the lift. The bell boy moved the trolley away from the door; the lift boy stepped out and lifted his hand to his pork pie hat.

‘Good afternoon, Mr James.’

‘And good afternoon to you, Tommy.’

Judy saw Aled slip something into the boy’s hand. She’d noticed that Aled tipped wherever he went but always surreptitiously and, from the service he received whenever she was with him, she suspected, generously.

They left the lift on the second floor. Aled walked down the corridor, took a key from his pocket and opened a door.

‘You have a room here?’ Mindful of her uncles’ directive never to be alone with Aled James, especially in a hotel room, Judy hung back.

‘A suite I use as an office,’ he explained. ‘The Windsor is too far from the centre of the city for some people’s convenience.’ He picked up a telephone from a desk set in front of the window and dialled a single number. ‘Room service? Tea for two, but bring a pot of coffee instead of tee … That’s right, sandwiches, scones and cakes. You recognise my voice? Then you’ll know to bring it to Room 22.’ He replaced the receiver and held out his hand. ‘Give me your jacket. I’ll hang it in the wardrobe.’ He opened a door and walked into an adjoining bedroom.

‘There is a bedroom here?’

‘And a bathroom. The restaurant is crowded with gossiping middle-aged, middle-class civil service wives and widows at this time of day. I thought we’d be more comfortable here.’ He opened the window. She joined him and looked down on the street below. A boy was standing on the corner, holding an armful of newspapers and shouting ‘Echo’. Well-dressed men and women strolled arm in arm, enjoying the warm summer sunshine. A street cleaner pushed a brush along the gutter, his stained and ragged blue canvas overalls shabby against the summer cream, white and pastel finery of the shoppers.

‘This suite and the one in the Windsor must be costing you a fortune,’ she said, awed by the elegance of the furniture and I.

‘A small one, but together they’re cheaper than buying a property, and they’ll do until the club opens. Once that is underway I’ll have time to look around and organise a more permanent office.’