Tiger Bay Blues (39 page)

‘You don’t remember us, do you?’ the woman with red hair asked.

‘Yes, I do, Mrs Hughes.’

‘Don’t suppose there’s much point in saying sorry we beat you up now, although we are. If we’d known who you were we wouldn’t have touched a hair on your head.’

‘You should have said you were going to marry the vicar,’ a blonde woman reproached in a pronounced Irish accent.

‘I believe I tried, but you weren’t listening,’ Edyth commented drily.

‘You don’t hold a grudge, do you?’ Anna asked.

‘It’s forgotten, by me at any rate,’ Edyth answered, insincerely.

Anna pushed forward the two girls who were trying to cling to her. Both were shy and plain. The younger of the two gazed up at Edyth through enormous brown eyes.

‘Me and the girls,’ Anna began, ‘well, we got to talking and we thought we’d like the kids to go to Sunday school. Reverend Richards didn’t like us coming to church. None of us. He tried to make us feel like dirt, said he didn’t even want our money polluting the collecting plate. I suppose you and Reverend Slater think the same.’

Edyth remembered the text of Peter’s sermon that morning.
‘Let he who is without sin among you
 …’

‘Reverend Slater made it plain from his sermon this morning, Mrs Hughes, that God’s church is open to everyone.’

‘See, told you.’ The blonde Irishwoman elbowed Anna out of the way and held out her hand to Edyth. ‘I’m Colleen.’

‘Edyth Evans … Slater,’ Edyth corrected. ‘Sorry, I’ve only been married a week.’

‘We’ll forgive you. So will you take our kids in Sunday school or not?’ Anna challenged.

‘I’d be delighted to have so many new scholars.’ Edyth looked around at the classes. ‘Have they been to Sunday school before?’

‘No, told you, Reverend Richards didn’t want them.’

‘Then suppose I take them as one class now to see how we get on before disturbing the other classes, and at the end of the lesson, I’ll put them in with the others in their age groups, so they can start fresh next Sunday.’

‘You going to teach us about Jesus, miss?’

Edyth kneeled down so she was on the same level as the children. ‘Not today. What’s your name?’

‘Daisy Hughes.’

‘No, not today, Daisy. Today I’ll tell you about a man called Noah who built an ark.’

‘What’s an ark?’ one of the older boys asked.

‘Trust my James. He’s always asking questions,’ Colleen said proudly.

‘It’s a sort of ship,’ Edyth answered.

‘Like we see in the dock?’

‘Yes, James, exactly like the very biggest we see in the dock.’

‘What time do you want us to come back for the kids, then?’ Anna asked.

Edyth checked her watch. ‘An hour.’

‘You know something, Mrs Slater; you’re all right.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Hughes’

‘Just Anna will do. I’m nobody’s missus.’

Edyth shepherded the children to a quiet corner at the front of the church.

‘Call in and have tea with us tomorrow,’ Anna shouted. ‘We’re only round the corner and it’s always quiet about three o’ clock in the afternoon.’

‘I’m not sure what I’ll be doing then,’ Edyth said tactfully.

‘We’ll buy you a cream cake,’ Colleen promised.

‘In that case I’ll definitely come.’

Five minutes after Anna and the other women left the church, Eirlys Williams settled her class and joined Edyth just as she was beginning her story of the great flood.

‘Mrs Slater?’

‘Yes, Mrs Williams?’ Edyth looked up at her.

‘Can I have a word?’

‘Of course.’

‘These children –’

‘You heard Reverend Slater’s sermon this morning, Mrs Williams?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m putting it into practice, Mrs Williams.’ Edyth turned back to the children. ‘And God spoke to Noah –’

‘Why Noah, miss?’ James asked.

‘Because he knew he’d listen, silly,’ Daisy said. ‘Now don’t interrupt the teacher again. Carry on, miss.’

Chapter Twenty

‘Thank you for the tea, Mrs Williams,’ Edyth said gratefully as she and Peter made their way down the stairs from Mr and Mrs Williams’s ‘rooms’ above their boot-and-shoe store in Bute Street. ‘It was thoughtful of you to invite us so soon after we returned. And you really must give me your recipe for fruit scones.’

‘Reverend Slater did seem to enjoy them.’ Eirlys Williams pressed a jar of raspberry preserves into Edyth’s hand. ‘He enjoyed these, too, and I made far more than we can use. We always go fruit-picking on my sister’s farm in the Vale for a week in July. This year’s crop was very good.’

‘Thank you very much. I’ll put it to good use.’ Edyth slipped the jar into the shopping bag that she had used to carry the potted crocus bulbs Judy had bought that morning for her to give to Mrs Williams. ‘I’m afraid our house is not ready to receive guests yet, but it will be in a week or two, and the moment it is, you will be among our first invited visitors.’ She stood in front of Mr Williams so he could help her on with her mackintosh. The rain that had poured down relentlessly for days showed no sign of abating, and the Williams’ house was a good fifteen-minute walk from the church and vicarage.

‘We’ll look forward to accepting your invitation. Thank you so much for coming. It was a pleasure to have you here, Mrs Slater, Reverend.’ Mrs Williams shook hands with Edyth then Peter. Peter continued to grip her hand after he had shaken it.

‘You do understand what I said to you about Anna Hughes’s children, Mrs Williams.’

‘The key to Christianity is forgiveness, and the return of the prodigal.’ Mrs Williams was tight-lipped but she repeated the essence of the argument Peter had expounded when she and her husband had tackled him about Edyth’s inclusion of the prostitutes’ children in the Sunday school.

‘Thank you for an enjoyable afternoon, Mrs Williams, Mr Williams. A most welcome respite on my busiest day; I look forward to seeing you both at Evensong.’ Peter stepped out of the house ahead of Edyth and put up his umbrella.

Edyth thanked them again and, on impulse, kissed Mrs Williams’s cheek before taking Peter’s arm.

Peter peeled back his glove and peered at his watch after the Williams’s had closed their front door. ‘Only an hour before evening service begins.’

‘It’s been a busy day.’

‘I’m afraid this is typical of what our Sundays are likely to be from now on. I’ve been thinking over what you said, Edyth –’

‘About the bedrooms?’ she broke in eagerly.

‘About the housekeeping,’ he amended. ‘Supposing I put a fixed amount into your bank account every month? I will pay Mrs Mack and Judy Hamilton’s wages directly to them and also the gas and electricity bills. Do you think ten pounds a month sufficient for food, coals, boot and shoe repair, clothes replacement, and incidental household expenses?’

‘I’m not sure. Coals will be expensive, especially this month, as I have asked Judy to keep a fire burning in every room. The house is very cold and damp. It feels as though it hasn’t been lived in for years. I don’t think Reverend Richards could have used many rooms.’

‘Just his study, bedroom and dining room before I arrived, and I’ve never known the dining room to be anything other than freezing. I thought I’d pay in ten pounds tomorrow to cover the first month. If it isn’t enough, we can go through the figures together and either find ways to cut costs, or up the amount, although I warn you it won’t be easy to find any extra.’

‘We’re not going to have a joint bank account?’

‘No, Edyth, I really think financial matters should be left to the man in the family.’

She knew from the tone of his voice that his decision was final. ‘In that case, I’ll detail where every penny is spent from tomorrow.’

‘Good.’

‘Thank you for backing me over allowing those children into Sunday school.’

‘It’s sound common and theological sense.’ He looked down at her and smiled, and as always when they were discussing anything that wasn’t personal to them, she felt close to him. ‘No good can come of excluding them. It would build ideas of superiority in the minds of the other children and make the ones who weren’t allowed in resentful. As it is, you, and the other teachers have an opportunity to counteract the malign influences those children are being subjected to. They won’t live with their mothers for ever and who knows what you might inspire them to do when they make their own way in life? Or what heights they may reach as a result of your teaching?’

‘There may be a budding vicar in young James. The Irish woman’s son,’ she explained. ‘I’ve never heard a child ask so many questions.’

‘You were able to answer them?’

‘More by luck than by education. He really made me think about some of the things I’ve always taken for granted. I enjoyed teaching him.’

‘Perhaps you should have gone to college after all,’ he said quietly.

‘Peter –’

‘If we hurry we may have time for a cup of Judy’s excellent tea. I take back my reservations about employing her, Edyth. We would never have eaten so well today if we’d relied on Mrs Mack. Perhaps we can keep Mrs Mack on to do the washing and the cleaning and promote Judy to cook.’

Edyth quickened her pace to keep step with him. After only a week of marriage she knew that was the closest she would get to an apology from Peter regarding his intransigent attitude towards Mrs Mack. But she still couldn’t understand why he insisted on employing her when her housekeeping skills were even worse than her cooking.

Edyth woke cold and shivering before seven the next morning. She slipped on her robe and went into the bathroom. Peter’s toilet bag and shaving kit were neatly laid out on a shelf next to the bath. She felt the brush in the shaving mug and opened the tin of shaving soap. Both were damp so she knew he was already up and, she suspected, working in his study. She bathed and dressed, then went downstairs to find the door between the kitchen and the washhouse open and Mrs Mack sorting through the laundry bags they had brought with them from Pontypridd.

‘The girl’s cooking the Reverend’s breakfast,’ Mrs Mack barked abruptly.

‘Good morning, Mrs Mack,’ Edyth said pointedly in the hope of inculcating some manners in the woman. ‘I presume you’re referring to Miss Hamilton?’

‘The Reverend told her to carry on, even after I came down,’ Mrs Mack continued as if Edyth hadn’t spoken.

‘Reverend Slater and I have decided that Miss Hamilton should take over the cooking,’ Edyth informed her.

‘Did you now? You could have told me. Anyway, I thought I’d make a start on the washing.’ Mrs Mack straightened her back and adjusted the hosepipe she was using to fill the gas boiler from the cold tap.

‘Can you wash?’ It was only after Edyth blurted out the question that she realised how tactless it sounded.

‘I’ve been washing for over fifty years. And as you’ve had your way and stopped me from cooking for the Reverend, what else should I be doing?’ she demanded crossly.

‘Cleaning, Mrs Mack,’ Edyth suggested. She bent down and scooped up her fine silk underclothes and woollen frocks from the floor.

‘I cleaned this house before you came. You’ve only been back a day. That’s not enough time to dirty it.’

‘All the paintwork needs washing down, Mrs Mack. You can start in the hall. And as soon as you’ve finished the paintwork there, you can give the floor a good scrub.’

‘The tiles are damaged,’ Mrs Mack declared. ‘You won’t get them no cleaner than they are, and as for the paintwork, the entire house has only just been decorated. Everyone knows you shouldn’t wash new paint. If you do, you’ll damage it.’

‘Not if you use soft soap and water,’ Edyth countered. ‘And the paintwork needs washing because there’s wallpaper paste and bits of paper left by the decorators all over the skirting boards.’

‘The washing needs doing first.’ Mrs Mack continued to heap Peter’s white linen shirts, dog collars, cotton vests and pants into a pile.

Edyth held her breath and counted to ten in an effort to control her temper. As Peter was intent on keeping Mrs Mack on, it made sense to give the woman something to do. She consoled herself further with the thought that there wasn’t anything the housekeeper could do to ruin white cotton and linens – unless she chose to boil them with coloureds that bled out their dyes. But if Peter hadn’t bought his underclothes and shirts pre-shrunk, they shouldn’t be boiled at all, not if they were to keep their shape and size. However, if Mrs Mack should ruin Peter’s clothes it would annoy him. He might even see sense and get rid of the woman.

Edyth bundled her own clothes together and looked around to make sure she hadn’t missed any. ‘You may do the Reverend Slater’s washing, Mrs Mack, but not mine.’

‘Please yourself. Although I would have thought you had enough to do without rinsing out your own frills and fancies.’ Mrs Mack fingered an oyster silk camisole draped on top of the bundle Edyth had made.

Edyth examined the washhouse. It ran half the length of the back of the house. The roof was glazed like a conservatory as were the sides, but because of the high walls that surrounded most of the house it was as dark and gloomy as the sitting room and dining room. Two lines had been strung across the full width, both ornamented with the type of dolly peg sold by gypsies, but given the lack of light and warmth Edyth could imagine wet washing hanging there for days, all the while gradually growing colder, damper and, in time, mildewed.

‘Is this the only place you have to dry the washing in winter, Mrs Mack?’

‘You want the sun to shine in the Bay in late October just for you, Mrs Slater?’ the housekeeper enquired caustically.

Edyth decided it was time to let Mrs Mack know that she didn’t have a monopoly on sarcasm. ‘All the year round, Mrs Mack, but as that’s impossible in Cardiff, we’ll have to improvise. I noticed there’s an airing rack in the kitchen above the range.’

‘You can only put clothes on that once they stop dripping.’

Edyth wondered if it was her imagination or if Mrs Mack had spoken with marginally more respect. She looked around the washhouse again. There was an enormous sink with a single cold tap – no gas water heater as in the kitchen and bathroom – the gas boiler, two tin baths, several buckets, a scrubbing board, wooden dolly, tongs and no other utensils that she could see. ‘You have no mangle?’

‘We did, but the Reverend Richards’s brother took it.’

‘You can’t wash without one, especially in this weather.’

‘Arms were made before rollers.’

‘Wringing clothes wears them out, Mrs Mack. I’ll buy one this morning and ask them to deliver it as soon as possible. Don’t wring the clothes. Leave them in the rinsing water until it comes.’

The doorbell chimed down the hall.

‘The problem with this vicarage is the parishioners never give you a moment’s peace,’ Mrs Mack grumbled.

‘I’ll get it.’ Edyth walked through into the passage. Peter had left the breakfast table and was standing in the hall, napkin in hand.

‘Who is it?’ he asked, when he saw her leave the kitchen.

‘I could only tell you that if I could see through walls, Peter.’ She opened the front door. A taxi had parked outside and the driver was helping a woman out of the back. He was holding an umbrella low over her head, concealing her features, and he didn’t lift it until they reached the step.

Peter’s mother looked up at Edyth and gave her a cold, hard smile.

‘I decided to come a week early and surprise you, Edyth, I expect that you can do with all the help you can get to put the house in order.’

‘Of course you want to use my things, Edyth.’ Florence Slater dismissed Edyth’s protests the moment she began to make them. ‘That way, you can keep your wedding presents wrapped for best. The time to use them will come soon enough, after you’ve worn out all my poor old china, linen and glassware. By the way, Edyth, I put rice corns in the salt cellar.’ She lifted up the silver cruet that had been hers. ‘It was
so
damp. I shook and shook and nothing came out. You obviously have many things to learn before you become a competent housewife. And this house is
so
cold and damp.’

‘Which is why I ordered Judy to light fires in all the rooms,’ Edyth said testily.

‘I ordered her to rake them out in the attics, Edyth. That was sheer extravagance.’

‘But Judy only moved in yesterday and the room had been empty for months, probably years –’

‘Peter?’ Ignoring Edyth, Florence looked across the dining table to her son. ‘I have had the most marvellous idea about the Mothers’ Union. You remember what a success I made of the one in Mumbles?’

‘Of course, Mother.’ Peter turned to Edyth who was sitting on his right because his mother had taken her place at the opposite end of the table to his own. ‘The Bishop said it was the most dynamic Mothers’ Union in the diocese.’

‘I will do the same here. I’ll put the ladies to work raising funds for good works in the parish. With so many unemployed men in the area, they can start a clothing club. We’ll begin with baby clothes. They are so small you can turn out the most wonderful garments from the tiniest scraps of material. From there, we’ll progress to school-age children. And we’ll lobby the shopkeepers for donations to make up hampers for the destitute. I saw so many shops in Bute Street. I had no idea the area was so large or the buildings so grand …’

‘Mother is a wonderful organiser,’ Peter whispered to Edyth.

‘I can believe it,’ Edyth said feelingly. She had returned from her shopping expedition with Judy to discover that not only had Florence well and truly settled into the vicarage, she had also assumed the position of lady of the house.

Florence had ordered Mrs Mack to lay the table for lunch and instructed her to set her place in future in the one traditionally occupied by the wife. She told Mrs Mack to make a Spanish omelette from the goods Edyth had bought, which had arrived back at the vicarage before Edyth and Judy, who had been held up in the ironmongers. And she had stood over Mrs Mack, watching every move the woman made to ensure that the lunch was cooked to her precise and strict specifications.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that she’d been relegated to a side place at the table, Edyth had discovered that all the books Judy had taken from the shelves in the sitting room and the ornaments she had put to one side ready to be packed and carried up to the attic had been replaced in exactly the same positions as before.