Tiger Bay Blues (8 page)

‘Edyth?’ he prompted.

Hoping her thoughts weren’t mirrored on her face, she gave him the answer he was waiting to hear. ‘As I have nothing to do until the results of my examination are posted, when I’ll find out whether I need to start preparing for college or not, I would be delighted to show you my favourite walks around Pontypridd, Peter.’

Judy knocked on the door of Mrs Protheroe’s sitting room but she didn’t dare enter until she heard, ‘Come in.’

‘I’ve banked up the kitchen stove, so it will be all right until morning, Mrs Protheroe. I’ve laid the table for you in the dining room, covered your chicken salad with greaseproof paper and put it on the marble slab in the pantry, and I’ve made an apple flan for your afters.’

‘Dessert, Judy, not “afters”,’ the widow reprimanded.

‘Sorry, Mrs Protheroe, dessert.’

‘Here.’ Her employer held out an envelope.

Judy’s mouth went dry. ‘What is it, Mrs Protheroe?’

‘Five shillings for last week and two shillings extra to see you through until you find yourself another position.’

‘You’re firing me?’ Judy stared at the widow in disbelief. She had worked for Mrs Protheroe ever since she had left school at the age of twelve, six years before.

‘I’ve taken on the sister of Mrs Davies’s maid. She’s going to live in. It will suit me better to have someone in the house and you’re busy with your grandmother.’

‘Please, Mrs Protheroe –’

‘Thank you for all you’ve done, Judy,’ Mrs Protheroe cut her short. ‘But it’s a question of money. Times are hard and I can get a girl to live in for what I’ve been paying you.’

‘I’m sure my grandmother wouldn’t mind me living in as long as I could visit her a couple of times a week,’ Judy said desperately. So many girls who lived in the Bay hadn’t been able to find work of any kind after they had left school; she knew it might prove impossible to find another position that paid five shillings a week plus meals.

‘The girl’s moving in tonight, Judy. Make up her bed in the box room before you go.’

‘Yes, Mrs Protheroe.’ Realising further argument was futile, Judy pocketed the envelope and climbed the stairs. She had the five pounds Mr Evans had given her for her dress. It would be a godsend because she and her grandmother were only just managing to cover the rent, bills and food between them as it was. That gave her twenty weeks – five months. She was prepared to work hard and do anything legal that would bring in a wage. Surely she would find another position in that time …

Then she remembered her audition for the chorus of
The Vagabond King.
If she got the part she would be paid thirty shillings a week. She’d have to pay her board and lodge out of that but the company would cover her travelling expenses and if she was careful she might be able to send her grandmother as much as seven shillings and sixpence or even ten shillings a week.

Busy building castles – or rather a career – in the air, she hummed ‘The Song of the Vagabonds’ as she opened the door to the walk-in linen cupboard.

Perhaps Mrs Protheroe firing her might prove to be a blessing in disguise. It would give her the impetus she needed to concentrate on her singing. And if she didn’t get a part in the chorus this time, she might get one at the next audition. Then she’d have a profession, not a job, and a better paid one than skivvying could ever be.

‘You going to St Catherine’s church youth club again, Edie?’ Lloyd asked from the depths of his armchair where he was reading the
Pontypridd Observer
and smoking his pipe.

‘Yes, Dad.’ She lifted up each cushion on the drawing room sofa in turn.

‘And you walked up to Berw Falls with the curate this morning?’

Was it her imagination or did his voice have a slight edge? ‘Miss Williams and I took a party of children from the Sunday school to Berw Falls, and Peter came with us. Miss Williams is teaching her class to collect and press wild flowers and I offered to help.’ She threw down the last cushion in exasperation.

‘You’ve been to youth club three times a week for the last four weeks, haven’t missed a church service on Sundays and helped out at every Sunday school outing the new curate has arranged since he arrived in Ponty. You trying to get the St Catherine’s Miss Goody-Two-Shoes gold medal?’ Maggie enquired snidely from the corner where she was sorting through their gramophone records.

‘One, as you well know, there’s no such medal. Two, you can’t expect Peter and Miss Williams to watch all the children from the Sunday school when they take them on an outing. Especially down by the river. As it was, Johnny Edwards nearly fell in, and would have if Peter hadn’t grabbed the leg of his shorts.’

‘And the youth club?’ Maggie persisted. ‘You had no interest in it until Reverend Slater came here.’

‘That was before I saw my exam results.’

‘We all know you passed your matriculation with honours,’ Maggie pre-empted sourly.

‘As I hope you will when the time comes, Mags.’ Lloyd spoke from behind his paper.

‘I thought that as I’m going to teach, it was time I spent some time with children.’ As an excuse Edyth thought it a good one. She stood in the middle of the room and looked around.

‘Then you’ve definitely made up your mind to teach, Edie?’ Lloyd lowered the
Pontypridd Observer
and looked at her over the edge.

‘There’s not much else I can do with a certificate from a teacher training college, is there?’ She realised she’d snapped, but the more she’d seen of Peter the less certain she was about going to Swansea, because it would mean leaving him for at least three years and possibly longer. What if he met someone else, or she hated college and made no friends there?

‘As your mother and I keep telling you, in this modern world, the only limit is your own ambition,’ Lloyd reminded her. ‘And that applies to women as well as men. You can do whatever you want with your life.’

‘The church youth club’s not like school, so you won’t learn much from working with the children there.’ Maggie found two records without sleeves and set them aside.

‘I know it’s informal, but you still need to exercise discipline over the children. And it’s been fun working with the drama group. Peter has plans to dramatise some of the simpler Bible stories for the Sunday school this autumn, starting with David and Goliath and Jonah and the Whale.’

‘You playing the whale, Edie?’

‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that remark, Maggie, because if I had, I’d have to send you to your room.’ Lloyd spoke quietly but there was a hint of steel in his voice that they were all wary of. ‘If the performances are in the autumn you’ll be in college, Edie.’

‘Swansea’s only an hour and half away by train and I will be home some weekends.’ Desperate, Edyth looked at her sister. ‘Maggie, have you seen my handbag?’

‘I’m looking for record sleeves, not handbags, and I’ve just found them.’ Maggie filched two from the magazine stand and waved them in the air.

‘I know I brought my bag downstairs. I’m sure I put it on the sofa – ’

‘Try the hall table, darling.’ Sali carried in the crocodile-skin handbag that she and Lloyd had given Edyth for her eighteenth birthday. ‘You look nice, Edyth, That shade of green suits you.’

‘Thank you, Mam.’ Edyth took the handbag from her mother. ‘I should have remembered I’d left it with the cosmetics I sorted for the girls in the club.’

‘None of mine, I hope.’ Maggie returned the last record to the cupboard, slammed the door and dived out into the hall.

‘I only cleared my own and Bella’s dressing tables of the things we no longer use,’ Edyth called after her. ‘Although I bet there are just as many abandoned lipsticks, half-empty bottles of scent, and tubs of face powder that aren’t suited to your complexion in your bedroom if you’d take the trouble to look.’ She checked her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace and adjusted the angle of her straw hat.

‘I don’t need to look in my room because I’m nowhere near as wasteful as you.’ Maggie appeared in the doorway and held open the brown paper and string shopping bag that Edyth had filled. ‘Mam, have you seen what Edyth’s put in here? There has to be at least ten shillings’ worth of bits and pieces. That’s an awful lot of money to waste.’

‘Everything in that bag is either an unwanted present or has been paid for out of my own or Bella’s allowance.’ Edyth snatched the bag from her sister. ‘And better the things in there are put to some use, than left to spoil until they’re no good to anyone.’

‘Does Belle know you’re giving her things away?’

‘She told me to take whatever I wanted from her room.’

‘I bet!’ Maggie retorted belligerently.

‘Girls! Stop bickering, you’re disturbing your father,’ Sali intervened sharply. ‘Maggie, darling, there are times when you sound more like a fishwife than a young lady, and given that Mari was complaining only this morning that she was hard put to find space in your room for your clean washing, it might be an idea for you to follow Edyth’s example and clear out the things you no longer need from your wardrobe and dressing table.’

The colour heightened in Maggie’s cheeks. She turned her back to Sali and stuck her tongue out at Edyth. Edyth decided it was more diplomatic to leave than retaliate. ‘If I don’t go now, I’ll be late. Bye, Mam, Dad. Maggie,’ she added brusquely. ‘See you later.’

‘Don’t forget to invite Peter Slater in if he walks you home, Edyth,’ Sali called after her.

‘Must we watch him make gooey eyes at Edie across the supper table every church youth club night?’ Maggie complained irritably.

Pretending she hadn’t heard her sister, Edyth called back, ‘All right, Mam,’ and closed the front door behind her.

The weather had, if anything, become even warmer since Bella’s wedding. The air was still, hot and devoid of oxygen. Edyth breathed in the scent of the white cabbage roses that her mother loved, and stole a moment to watch the bees and butterflies hovering above the lavender and geraniums.

The church clock chimed the quarter of an hour, she glanced at her wristwatch and realised she was going to be late if she wanted to be in the club when Peter arrived. She raced down the long, sloping drive, hopping, skipping and swinging her bag like a child.

To her surprise, Peter was waiting for her at the gate. He lifted his hat when he saw her and offered her his arm. ‘Good evening.’

‘It is a good evening, isn’t it?’ Familiarity hadn’t lessened the quickening of her heartbeat every time she caught a glimpse of him. In fact, it added to the excitement she felt, even if it was only a momentary sighting across crowded Taff Street. ‘What are you doing here at this time of day?’

‘If I had no regard for the truth, I would say waiting for you so we could walk to the church hall together, but the Reverend Price asked me to deliver a basket of fruit to Mrs Hopkins.’

‘She’s suffering from another attack of gout. Mam and Mari called to see her this afternoon. They said she was poorly and very uncomfortable in this heat.’

‘I didn’t find her at all well. She was –’

‘Complaining long and loudly?’ Edyth suggested when he paused to search for the right word.

‘Constant pain must be wearing,’ he answered diplomatically.

‘Mrs Hopkins wasn’t the happiest of our neighbours even before she had gout.’ She hooked her arm into his.

He took the bag she was carrying from her. ‘More cosmetics for the girls in the youth club?’

‘Just a few odd things that were cluttering Bella’s and my dressing tables. I’m glad they can be of use.’

‘You’ve improved those girls beyond all recognition in a few short weeks, and not only in their appearance. They’re behaving more like young ladies and less like the hooligans I saw when I first arrived.’

‘They were teasing you. A young, good-looking curate should expect to attract attention,’ she said lightly.

‘That is not the sort of thing an attractive young woman should say to a minister of the church.’ There was a hint of seriousness in his voice.

‘That’s why I said it,’ she flirted boldly.

‘Edyth …’

‘Yes, Peter,’ she prompted when he didn’t continue.

‘I waited for you at your gate because I was hoping to speak to you before youth club.’

‘About the play?’ She swallowed hard. Had she been too forward, too obvious? Was he about to embarrass her by asking her to cool her friendship towards him?

‘Not about the play.’ He began again. ‘Edyth, I …’

She braced herself for rejection, but when his voice trailed a second time she said, ‘I had hoped that we knew one another well enough by now to say almost anything, Peter.’

‘You are only eighteen,’ he blurted uneasily.

‘Guilty.’ The comment made her all the more certain that he wanted to tell her that they could never be more than friends.

‘There’s ten years between us. I will be twenty-eight on my next birthday.’

‘When will that be?’

‘The twentieth of August.’

‘I’ll put it in my diary and bake you a cake,’ she rejoined flippantly, in a desperate attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere that had fallen between them.

‘I’m not one of your brothers or cousins.’ He slowed to a halt.

She released his arm and looked into his eyes, but found it difficult to read the expression in them. ‘Does that mean you won’t allow me to tease you any more?’

‘No.’ He didn’t even smile. ‘But the Reverend Price spoke to me this morning. He said there’s been talk in the town.’

‘About us?’

‘He reminded me that I’m a curate and you are a lively and attractive young woman. He went on to talk about my position in the Church and my hopes for advancement, and finished by saying that the last thing I can afford to do is attract gossip or cause a scandal.’

‘Reverend Price thinks it’s scandalous that you walk me home from youth club and occasionally stay to supper?’ she questioned indignantly.

‘Of course not. But –’

‘I hope you reminded him that this is nineteen thirty, not eighteen thirty,’ she broke in heatedly. ‘Surely even curates are allowed friends of the opposite sex in this modern day and age?’

‘I didn’t dare remind him of anything of the kind. But then my parents were middle-aged when I was born, and compared to yours they brought me up in an old-fashioned way. One of the first lessons they taught me was not to question my elders and betters. As you know, my father was a vicar and the Church has always moved slower than the era it finds itself in.’ He clasped her hand and replaced it in the crook of his elbow. ‘But we might pre-empt damaging rumours if you allow me to ask your father’s permission to call on you and court you formally with a view to our becoming engaged in the future.’