Tiger Bay Blues (29 page)

‘And you’re …’ Edyth looked at her sister’s waist, which was as slender as ever.

‘Not yet. At least, not that I know about. Here, give me that frock, I’ll lay it on the bed for now and pack it away later. Don’t worry,’ she reassured when she saw Edyth frown. ‘I’ll do it properly so your daughters can wear it when they get married – that’s if they want to. The way fashion is going, it’s anyone’s guess what women will be wearing in twenty years’ time. Feathers in our hair and hula-hula skirts comes to mind after seeing some of the musical shows on Broadway.’ Bella took the dress from Edyth and draped it over the bed. ‘Sit down; I’ll take out the tiara. All your hair will need is a quick comb-through before you put your beret on.’

Edyth wriggled out of the long petticoat that she had worn beneath her wedding gown and slipped the simply cut, bronze-green silk frock with its bias-cut skirt over her silk cami-knickers. The purple pleated silk jacket had no fastenings. She draped it over her shoulders, took the comb Bella handed her, and pulled it through her waved hair.

‘You look perfect, apart from one thing.’

‘What?’ Edyth looked anxiously at Bella.

‘Shoes?’ Bella picked them up from the floor of the wardrobe and handed them to her. ‘You may be married to a vicar, but I don’t think the church will make you walk barefoot like a penitent. Not yet at any rate.’

Peter arrived at the house three-quarters of an hour before their train left the station, so they could barely spare five minutes to visit Mary and baby, but even in that short time Edyth sensed that Peter was ill-at-ease. She had assumed that he would be used to visiting women in their bedrooms; after all, he had administered the sacrament to Mrs Hopkins almost daily when he had been the Reverend Price’s curate, but he was clearly perturbed at seeing Mary in bed.

Hoping no one else had noticed, she was glad when Toby chivvied them into his car. He drove them to the New Inn, where the family showered them with confetti when they walked back into the ballroom. But, by the time Harry had finished announcing the birth of his son, they had to leave.

Mrs Slater kissed Peter a tearful goodbye and complained bitterly at their having to rush off, but she declined to accompany them to the station with the other guests, although it was only a short walk away.

What seemed like a hundred kisses and a thrown bouquet later, which Alice Beynon caught, Edyth found herself sitting opposite Peter in a first-class carriage heading for Cardiff where they would have to change trains for Swansea.

‘Well, Mrs Slater?’ Peter asked. ‘Happy?’

‘Very.’ She returned his smile. ‘You?’

‘Ecstatic.’

She turned aside and looked out of the window as they drew into Treforest station. ‘It all happened so fast I still can’t quite believe that we’re actually married.’

‘I have the certificate and the whole of our future to convince you.’

‘That sounds wonderful. The whole of our future. It makes me think of one of the huge blank canvases in Toby’s studio. You can imagine all sorts of things being painted on it.’ She looked up at him. ‘Happy things, if we’re lucky. Children, home, family, Christmases with trees – and carol concerts and church services.’ She added the last two for his benefit.

‘A good life of hard work and Christian duty.’

‘And love?’

‘Yes, Edyth.’ He pulled the blind on the corridor before moving across to her seat. ‘I promise you love.’ And then he kissed her.

Chapter Fifteen

‘Reverend and Mrs Slater, on behalf of the management and staff, may I welcome you to the Caswell Bay Hotel.’ The clerk left the desk and grandly, and rather ostentatiously, greeted Peter and Edyth as they walked into reception.

‘Thank you,’ Peter replied warily. He, like Edyth, had noticed that the man had recognised them the moment they’d stepped inside the hotel and hadn’t needed to refer to the register to check their details.

‘Large double with sea view, all expenses to be billed to Mrs Beynon’s account.’ The clerk flourished a pen in front of Peter. ‘A valued and popular customer, Mrs Beynon. She frequently dines and hosts bridge parties here. I understand that you are her nephew, sir?’

‘That is correct.’ Peter dipped the pen in the inkwell and signed the register.

The clerk lifted a key from a row of numbered hooks on the board and smirked at the porter. ‘Bags to be carried up to
eighteen,
Davies. Mrs Slater, Reverend, rest assured we will do everything in our power to ensure that you have a pleasant stay with us.’

‘Thank you,’ Edyth replied when she realised that Peter had no intention of answering the man.

‘Eighteen,’ the boy repeated. He stared at Edyth, but turned aside when he saw her looking back at him.

Peter’s Aunt Alice had not only made the booking and arranged to pay their hotel bill as a wedding present, but also given them a generous cheque on the understanding that ‘it was to be spent on nothing sensible’. After meeting Alice Beynon, and witnessing the staff’s reaction to their arrival, Edyth didn’t doubt that Peter’s aunt had also informed the hotel staff that they were honeymooners.

‘Breakfast is served from seven to nine, luncheon from twelve to two, and dinner from eight until nine-thirty in the evening, sir, madam. All meals are taken in the dining room, unless, that is, you’d prefer to eat in the privacy of your room.’ His smile turned to a leer.

‘No, thank you. We’ll eat in the dining room.’ Peter answered without consulting Edyth.

‘Would you like an early-morning call, sir, madam?’

Peter looked enquiringly at Edyth.

‘I’ve packed my alarm clock.’

‘No, thank you,’ Peter said.

‘Should there be anything – anything at all – that we can do to make your stay with us more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to ask.’

‘We will.’ Peter offered Edyth his arm, and they followed the porter up the stairs. They passed two maids in the corridor. Both dived into a walk-in linen cupboard the moment they saw them. Edyth heard giggling and suspected their odd behaviour wasn’t anything to do with a directive about cleaning staff not being seen by guests, and everything to do with knowing that she and Peter were honeymooners.

She noticed the back of Peter’s neck had turned bright pink above his collar, and she was surprised that he was more embarrassed by the overdose of innuendo in their welcome than she was.

‘Your room, madam, sir.’ The boy opened the door, carried their cases inside and lifted them on to a pair of canvas webbed trestles set at the foot of the double bed. ‘Shall I send for a maid to unpack for you, sir, madam?’

‘No, thank you.’

Edyth wondered if that was how Peter intended to respond to every enquiry the staff made of them during the week. He tipped the boy sixpence and closed the door before going to the window and opening it wide.

Edyth joined him and they gazed down the hill to Caswell Bay cove. The tide was in, lapping at the rocks and pebbles high on the foreshore. The sea was shimmering, gleaming, cold pewter in the clear October air. The moon had already risen although the sun hadn’t set, and it hung, a pale silver crescent in the greying sky.

‘What a wonderful view,’ Edyth cried enthusiastically. ‘I’ve always loved Caswell Bay. It’s one of the best – after Langland and Oxwich – for bathing.’

‘I keep forgetting that you’ve holidayed in Swansea and on the Gower.’ Peter pushed aside the curtains and a fresh, chill breeze blew into the room. ‘I was hoping to introduce you to my favourite places, but it seems you’re as well acquainted with them as I am.’

‘We’ve seen them through different eyes.’

‘That’s a tactful statement if ever I heard one. Did you holiday on the Gower every year?’

‘Every year I can remember when I was growing up. First in my great-aunt’s cottage in Port Eynon then, after she died, mostly, but not always, in a house at Horton that belonged to a friend of hers. The last two years we’ve stayed at the Mermaid in Mumbles. Mam wouldn’t allow Dad to book us in there until Glyn reached what she called “a civilised age”. She says hotels and small children don’t mix.’

‘She’s probably right.’ Peter sat on the window sill. ‘Which is your favourite Gower bay?’

‘That’s a hard one.’ She sat on the opposite end of the sill to his and leaned against the window recess behind the curtains. ‘Rhossili is the most impressive.’ She had chosen the bay at the end of the Gower Peninsula. Below its treacherously high and steep cliffs lay miles of clear sandy beach.

‘Beautiful, but a long walk down to the sea,’ he observed.

‘Does that mean you’re too lazy to want to visit there this week?’

‘We’ll see.’ His hand shook when he loosened his tie.

‘It’s strange to think that all the time I holidayed here as a girl with my family you were living in Mumbles. We could have passed one another in the village, or on a clifftop walk. We could have even swum off the same beach, fished in the same rock pool or bought ice-creams from the same cart.’

‘I went to boarding school when I was fourteen and you were four.’ He turned away from her and studied the view.

‘But you returned here for the holidays.’

‘True,’ he granted, ‘but I rarely ventured very far down the Gower after Mother and I moved in with Aunt Alice. Her chauffeur always seemed strangely reluctant to drive us further than Mumbles and Langland. Possibly because he had sisters living in both villages and could be assured of a cup of tea after he dropped us off.’

‘Aunt Alice is nice. And not just because she’s paying for all this,’ she added, lest he think her mercenary.

‘Nicer than my mother?’

‘What a peculiar question.’ She was taken aback.

‘Aunt Alice
is
very different from my mother.’

‘It’s hard to believe they are sisters,’ she conceded.

‘You may not have noticed in the short time you were in their company, but they don’t get on.’

‘They are certainly opposites,’ she agreed tactfully.

‘Aunt Alice means well and she’s very generous with her money and hospitality, but Mother is more of a thinker and Aunt Alice, well, she’s more of a …’

‘Doer who likes a good time,’ Edyth suggested when words failed him.

‘You noticed that much on a brief acquaintance?’

‘Your aunt seemed determined to enjoy our wedding.’

‘Mother told me that although Aunt Alice is older than her, she has always been adolescent in her attitude towards life. As a young girl she never thought further than the next ball, party, picnic or good time, and she didn’t change when she married or, I’m afraid to say, when she lost her husband.’

‘Perhaps her determination to make the best of things is a reaction to losing her husband at such a young age,’ Edyth suggested. ‘Many widows adopt the philosophy of enjoying every moment to the full, while they still have them. It doesn’t mean that they loved their husbands any less than the widows who observe strict mourning.’ Edyth surprised herself when she sprang to Alice Beynon’s defence. But she had taken a liking to her warmth and spontaneity, if only because it proved, after the cool reception Peter’s mother had given her, that someone in her husband’s family was prepared to like her.

‘Which is all well and good if you subscribe to the philosophy that this life is all there is.’

‘Please don’t let’s quarrel about my father’s beliefs, not on our honeymoon, Peter,’ she pleaded.

He gave her one of his winsome smiles. ‘I wasn’t thinking of your father but Mother and Aunt Alice. Mother takes life far more seriously than her sister. She sees it as an opportunity for spiritual preparation for the hereafter.’

‘I see.’ Edyth did. She suddenly understood Peter’s mother perfectly. Her interpretation of religion was the one her father had railed against all his life. Florence Slater equated godliness with a grim Victorian solemnity bordering on misery and, from what little she’d seen of her at the wedding breakfast, probably regarded anything enjoyable as the devil’s work. But she was also her mother-in-law. Much as she didn’t relish the task, it was up to her to make the best of the situation because she had a feeling that Florence Slater wouldn’t be making any allowances for her. Time and patience would hopefully win her around. Perhaps when she and Peter had children …

She pictured Mary lying in bed with tiny Will at her side and imagined herself in the same situation, with Peter sitting on the bed beside her, a small bundle between them …

‘Edyth?’

She focused on her husband. ‘Sorry, Peter, I was miles away. Did you say something?’

‘I was talking about Aunt Alice and Mother but it can wait. It’s half past seven. We have time for a short walk before dinner or a longer walk afterwards. Which would you prefer?’

Edyth knew exactly what she would have preferred; a quiet romantic dinner in their room with a bottle of champagne. And afterwards making love with the curtains and window open so they could see the night sky and hear the sea …

‘Edyth?’ he prompted again.

‘You choose.’

‘You’re proving to be a very accommodating wife.’ He left the window sill and kissed her forehead.

She debated whether or not to wrap her arms around his neck and encourage him to kiss a whole lot more of her but he moved away while she was still wondering how he’d react. ‘I promise you, Peter; I’ll try to be just that, always.’

‘I love you, Edyth Slater,’ he said huskily. ‘Never forget it.’

‘I love you, too, Reverend Slater.’

He opened his suitcase and removed a linen suit bag. ‘I think we should change for dinner now and go for a walk afterwards. It’s always best to exercise before bed. I’ll go to the bathroom and change.’

‘I’ll unpack,’ she said brightly, forcing the disappointment from her voice. ‘Would you like me to unpack for you?’

‘No.’ His reply was too sharp, too finite, and he realised it. ‘I’m a bit of fusspot when it comes to my clothes and personal things. I’ll put them away myself when you change. Did you see a bathroom when we came up the stairs?’

‘There’s one next door.’

‘Then Aunt Alice probably asked for us to be put in this room. You can always trust her to think of the practical things and comforts of life.’ He took a leather toilet bag from the top of his case.

‘That’s a very good characteristic for an aunt to have.’ She lifted her feet on to the sill and rested her head on her knees.

‘You’re determined to like her.’

‘I’m determined to love, not like, your aunt
and
your mother, Peter.’

‘I won’t be long.’

Edyth continued to sit on the window sill looking out at the Bay for a few minutes after Peter left. The tide was receding. Gradually the strip of sand below the pebbles widened, but she saw neither the sand, sea, gulls, old men preparing to dig for lugworm, nor the boy and girl walking a pair of red setters. She had imagined the moment when she and Peter would finally be alone together in a bedroom ever since he’d asked if he could ‘court her with a view to an engagement’. She’d assumed that he would take her in his arms … kiss her … undress her …

But Peter was a vicar. That set him apart from most men. And he’d warned her, when he’d asked her to court him, that he was cautious by nature and experience. Different men loved in different ways. Bella’s Toby was passionate and demonstrative – Peter wasn’t. And, after meeting his mother, she could understand why he found it difficult to express his feelings.

She recalled the first time he had told her he loved her. What he lacked in passion he compensated for in dedication. She had always wanted the kind of relationship her parents had: a love that would last through bad as well as good times. And, in Peter she would find that, if only she could quell the tiny niggling doubts.

She climbed down from the sill, reached into her pocket for her keys, unlocked her suitcase and began to unpack, setting aside one of the most expensive gowns in her trousseau; a long-sleeved, russet satin evening frock that brought out the highlights in her hair. And when she placed piles of stockings and underclothes in the dressing table drawers, she tried not to anticipate what was going to happen in that room that night. Because she was beginning to discover that too much anticipation led to a sense of anti-climax.

It was her over-active imagination that had led to – not disappointment exactly, she could never be disappointed with Peter – more like the end of expectation. But hadn’t that been the case with almost everything in her life so far? Looking forward to an event was often so much more enjoyable than the actual occasion.

David said goodnight to Harry’s family, and goodbye to Lloyd’s brothers and their wives and children, who were leaving, and climbed the stairs to Bella’s old room. His two younger brothers, five-year-old Luke and ten-year-old Matthew, were already asleep, worn out by the excitement of the wedding and the impromptu party in Lloyd and Sali’s house that had followed Will’s birth and the departure of the newlyweds.

Luke was curled in a tight ball in the truckle bed beneath the window, in contrast to Matthew who was sprawled out, arms and legs extended, in the centre of the double bed.

Avoiding Matthew, David sank down on the side of the bed, lifted his ankle on to his knee and began to unlace his shoe. An image of Edyth came to mind. She was undressing, slowly, tantalisingly, in a luxuriously furnished hotel bedroom that gleamed with all the satin and silk drapes he’d seen in the Hollywood films Harry had taken him to see in Pontardawe. Peter was sitting in an easy chair, glass of brandy in hand, his shirt collar hanging loose by one stud as he watched her – and smiled. She returned his smile and moved closer … set her hand on his shoulder …