Tiger Ragtime (29 page)

Sensing the logic in what Judy said, David fell silent.

‘You are an idiot,’ Judy continued to scold him. ‘Edyth said you had a job on the building site. Why didn’t you stick to that?’

‘I’m doing the two at the moment. Mr James said I could earn extra running a book for Mr Collins and if I did well, there might be a permanent job at the end of it working for him in his nightclub. Everyone knows that the building work will be finished in a couple of weeks, and then Mr James will need people to run the gaming tables. I can do it if I’m shown how, Judy, I know I can. I made a guinea out of the money I took in bets today and that’s without the money I made working on the site –’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Judy hissed when she saw heads turn in their direction. ‘Don’t you know that there are people down here desperate enough to beat a man up for the price of a cup of tea and a bun? Honestly, David, you’re a real baby,’ she lectured him as if she was middle-aged and he was a wayward child.

‘I am not, I … I …’ He almost boasted about his exploits with Gertie before realising that it wasn’t something he could tell a girl. Or Harry, or Micah, or Judy’s uncles. He had a feeling that even Tony would repeat Harry’s warnings about loose women if he tried.

‘I suppose I should make allowances for you. Edyth told me that you grew up on an isolated farm.’

‘There’s no need for you to feel sorry for me just because I grew up on a farm,’ he snapped testily.

‘I don’t. The truth is, I’m envious. I’ve never stayed in the country but I’ve been on day trips to Leckwith Fields and Creigiau. They seemed so green, peaceful, and beautiful after the docks. The only flowers you see down here are in people’s back yards – and between the coal sheds, dog kennels, and the ty bachs there’s not much room left. The last time I went to Creigiau, I was twelve. I picked masses of primroses. I even dug up a few roots, although I knew I shouldn’t have,’ she confessed. ‘My grandmother planted them in her garden and every spring after that they reminded me of the trip.’

‘The country might be nice for a townie to visit but it’s a lot different when you’re born on a farm. From the day I could walk I was expected to work, and work bloody hard,’ he swore. He saw her shocked expression and said, ‘Sorry, bad habit. Harry has tried to stop me swearing but all I’ve heard on site today is cursing and I’ve started doing it again without thinking.’

‘It’s hard not to swear when that’s all you hear around you,’ she conceded. ‘I never used to swear when I lived with my grandmother but everyone swears all the time in the theatre. The actors, the director, the producer, the musicians, even the chorus girls. They don’t bat an eyelid. Show-business people seem to think no more of swearing than they do of breathing. They do it more than anyone else I’ve ever met, even seamen. But my uncles always watched their language around my grandmother. Towards the end of her life she was very frail but they were still terrified of her.’

‘How come you were brought up by your grandmother?’ he asked.

‘My mother died when I was a baby and my father was at sea.’

‘Is he still at sea?’

‘I don’t know and I don’t care.’

David knew from the tone of her voice not to trespass further. ‘My mother and father died young.’

‘Who brought you up?’

‘My sister as much as anyone, although, looking back, I suppose we brought one another up although she’s older than me by four years. My mother died less than a year after my father, and she made Mary promise to do everything she could to keep the farm going and the family together. As we have two younger brothers and a sister it was tough going until Mary married Harry.’

‘He’s nice, but then Edyth and all her family are.’ She blushed when she thought of Edyth’s confession to Micah that David had fallen in love with her and hoped that David didn’t think she meant anything by the throwaway remark.

‘Yes, they are,’ he agreed.

‘So, are you coming to see me in
Peter Pan
now you are back from your adventures on the high seas?’ she asked.

‘Some adventures,’ he sneered. ‘And I’m coming next Saturday. Mrs Brown has booked a box and she’s invited me, Moody, Micah, and Edyth to join her, although they’ve all seen you before. What’s it like to be on-stage?’ he asked curiously.

‘Everything and more that I ever dreamed, when the audience are applauding, and cheering me at the end of my big number. And the clothes and the make-up are as glamorous as I thought they would be. But the fighting, backbiting, and bitching between the cast backstage has to be heard and seen to be believed. So it’s not all glitz and glitter. And some of the people are so nasty they make you look like a soft pussycat.’

‘What do you mean?’ he said angrily.

‘You’ve just proved my point. Look at you now, spitting and hissing like a cornered tomcat.’

‘I am not,’ he said indignantly.

‘I’m sorry; I didn’t realise that this is how you normally behave.’ She looked at him and a shaft of light fell on his face from a streetlamp. He glared at her for a moment. She smiled and slowly he smiled back.

‘My mother always used to say that I was too hottempered for my own good. And I know I became even worse after she died. We didn’t have it easy. Just because Mary and I were young, people – cattle dealers and people like that,’ he explained not wanting to go into details, ‘thought they could cheat us.’

Judy knew that was the closest she would get to an apology from him for his bad temper. ‘So you played,’ she deepened her voice, mimicking Jeremy’s Mr Darling, ‘the angry hard man.’

‘Sort of.’ He looked down the wide street of two-, three-, and four-storey buildings. ‘And I’m not used to living among all these people. But that’s not to say I won’t get used to it.’

‘Snarling at people because you’re not sure of yourself isn’t going to make you any friends. And before you jump down my throat again, I know exactly how you feel.’

‘No, you don’t,’ he contradicted her.

‘At the risk of sounding like a pantomime chorus, oh yes I do. You’re in a strange place, surrounded by people you don’t understand because you’re not used to their ways and you’re not at all sure what you should do next.’

‘Clever, aren’t you?’

‘I know because it’s exactly how I feel in the theatre. I’m not used to actors and their ways. And now that I’m one of them …’

‘You’re not sure you want to be?’ he guessed.

‘Oh no. After fighting so hard to get a part on stage, I want to be one of them all right. It’s just that sometimes … it feels so strange.’

‘Like me being here in Bute Street instead of the farm or on the Brecon Beacons.’

‘Home sweet home.’ Judy stopped outside the bakery yard and looked up at the windows. ‘The lights are out. That means Edyth’s in bed.’

‘Where I should be, if I’m going to get up early tomorrow to work on the site.’

‘I don’t have to be up until midday,’ Judy said.

‘Lucky you.’

‘I wasn’t boasting. But I can never go to sleep straight after coming back from the theatre. Too wound up by all the applause and excitement of knowing we’ve pulled off another successful performance against all the odds. You don’t fancy a cup of tea, do you? I’ll make it in the bakery kitchen so we don’t disturb Edyth.’

David hesitated for a split second. ‘That would be nice, thank you.’

‘If we’re lucky there may even be a doughnut left,’ she whispered as she opened the door, stole inside, and switched on the light.

Chapter Fifteen

‘This sitting up waiting for David is getting to be a habit.’ Micah left his chair when the hands on Helga’s clock pointed to ten o’clock. ‘Another few hours and you’ll have to be up and working, Edyth.’

‘I can’t go home without seeing David.’

‘He’s been a stupid silly boy today. He’ll still be a stupid silly boy tomorrow,’ Helga said philosophically. ‘I don’t know why you two insisted on waiting for him. Surely you don’t think for one minute that he’s going to listen to either of you.’ She removed her needle from the patch she’d been stitching and jabbed it into her needle book.

‘As usual, you’re probably right, Helga.’ Micah stretched his arms above his head.

Helga folded her quilt and held out her hand to take Edyth’s needle. ‘Of course I’m right. Edyth, it’s time you were home and in bed. And don’t bother to come back here, Micah. The boy’s telling-off can wait until tomorrow.’

‘You always were a bossy boots, Helga.’ Micah picked up Edyth’s cardigan and held it out to her.

‘One more thing, if you’re going to tell the boy off, I’d rather not be around while you do it.’ Helga finished folding the quilt and pushed it into the cupboard. ‘I have to carry on living in the same house as him and it might be as well if I don’t hear what you have to say. That way he can think I’m still on his side. Or at least neutral.’

‘I just hope he’s all right.’ Edyth took the cardigan Micah handed her and slipped it over her frock.

‘That boy seems to have nine lives and as far as I know he’s only used two of them,’ Micah observed.

‘Four,’ Edyth corrected. ‘There are a few accidents you don’t know about.’

‘I’ll take your word for it.’

Helga straightened and rubbed her aching back. ‘You two look good together,’ she said, smiling when Micah wrapped his arm around Edyth’s waist.

‘We know we do.’ Micah winked at Edyth. ‘Ready?’

‘I suppose so. But I really would rather wait until David gets back.’

‘If he’s in one of the pubs having a good time buying rounds with whatever he was paid to run the betting book –’

‘I know, he could be gone for hours,’ Edyth interrupted.

‘So let’s go, you need your beauty sleep.’

‘And you don’t, Micah?’ Helga asked.

‘Pastors can lie in bed all day if they choose to, because they won’t be missed.’

Helga kissed Edyth then Micah. ‘See you both tomorrow, but remember what I said about not dragging me into your argument with David.’

‘I will,’ her brother replied.

Micah and Edyth left Helga’s and walked out on to the pavement. Like most warm summer evenings in the Bay the street was almost as busy as it was in the day. Children were playing, neighbours were sitting on window sills gossiping, a group of youngsters were standing in the middle of the road practising a jazz piece on an assortment of home-made instruments, including papercovered combs, spoons, and saucepan drums. Micah looked up at the sky. ‘Make the most of this weather – it can’t last. The rains will start at the end of August.’

‘Now you can predict the weather?’

‘I come from a long line of seamen who lived their entire lives by the weather.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘I told you my grandfather was a fisherman.’

‘So you did, but I didn’t realise he was one of a line.’

‘Have you ever thought that our generation and perhaps the ones before us are the lucky ones?’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Not all of us are bound by what our fathers did. Take David, he’s left his family farm. As the eldest son that would have been unheard of in Wales a hundred or even twenty years ago. My father set tongues wagging in our home village when he became a pastor instead of going into the family fishing and farming business.’

‘The Great War changed things for so many women. My mother has friends who worked in the munitions factories and they carried on working in shops and offices when the factories closed simply because there was no one left for them to marry.’

‘Your mother is exceptional; she is married, has a family, and works in a full-time job.’

‘In a family business,’ Edyth reminded him. ‘And she always put us children first.’

‘I wasn’t criticising, Edyth,’ he said. ‘I just wondered if that was why you bought the bakery. To be like your mother?’

‘I bought the bakery because I wanted to do something besides live off my parents, as so many girls do until a man knocks on the door and asks them to become a wife. But then,’ she smiled wryly, ‘I rather messed up any ambition I had to be a good wife when I married Peter.’

‘You’ve achieved what you wanted to now: your independence. And you had a choice as to whether or not you bought the bakery. It wasn’t a business you inherited. But perhaps I’m not entirely right,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You, David, and I had a choice, but for most of the girls on the Bay there are generally only two options, service or helping their mother run the house, and then only if their mothers can afford to keep them.’

‘Or a third,’ Edyth said, looking at a girl wearing thick make-up who was leaning against the wall of a house smoking a cigarette. The girl saw Micah and lifted the hem of her skirt to her thighs.

‘That option is not open to decent women.’

‘Anna Hughes and her girls told me the only option they had was to sell themselves, or starve. In my opinion that’s not a choice.’

‘Don’t tell me you still have tea there?’

‘Not since Peter left the Bay and I stopped being a vicar’s wife, but only because I haven’t had time for afternoon tea parties with anyone.’ She led the way through the yard to the back door. ‘Are you coming in? I’ll make coffee in the kitchen so as not to disturb Judy.’

‘That sounds tempting.’

‘When I last looked there were a couple of pasties left.’

‘You’ve sold me on the idea.’

Edyth opened the door and they saw Judy and David sitting at the large scrub-down table, a teapot, cups and a plate of pasties set between them.

‘We’ve been looking everywhere for you, young man,’ Micah said sternly.

‘If you’re going to give him a lecture on his new career as a bookie’s runner, Micah, I’ve already done it.’ Judy went to the cupboard and fetched two more cups and saucers for Micah and Edyth.

‘Did you take any notice?’ Edyth asked David.

Judy answered for him. ‘None whatsoever.’

Twenty minutes later, Micah and David left the bakery. And, as Edyth had prophesied, none of them had succeeded in persuading David to give up working as a bookie’s runner – not even Edyth’s threat of writing to Harry, although she had made it clear she would do just that before going to bed that night. The only concession, if it could be called a concession, that David had given them, was he’d look around for a legal job while he continued to work as a runner.

Micah and David were walking back towards Helga’s house when Micah said, ‘You have to be more careful, David.’

‘No more lectures,’ David pleaded. ‘I’ve told you, I’ve made too much money on my first day as a bookie’s runner to drop the job. And it’s work that might lead to a full-time position. I don’t need anyone to tell me that jobs are going to be scarcer around the Bay than flying pigs when the work’s finished on the Sea Breeze. You’re also forgetting that Aled James said he’d look after me.’

‘Even though Aled James has no experience of the way things are done on the Bay?’

‘He bought his nightclub, didn’t he? He knew how to get the licences he needed. From what the men on the site told me today, that couldn’t have been easy.’

‘David. I’m not going to go through all that with you again,’ Micah said wearily. ‘Edyth, Judy, and I have all warned you. You won’t listen to us, so be it on your own head.’

‘Then why should I be more careful?’ David asked.

‘That scent I can smell on you. It’s the one Anna Hughes and her girls use. It’s sweet, it’s sickly, and everyone on the Bay can recognise it half a mile off. You’re risking more than your wallet in that house. You’re risking your health and that is far more serious. Once you lose that, it may take a long time to recover it, that’s if you ever do.’

‘The girl I see is young …’

‘Youth is no guarantee of good health in that profession.’

‘She’s –’

‘Likely to give you any and every disease her last customer was suffering from. Just give it some thought before you see her again, there’s a good lad.’

‘I suppose this is the last order we will be packing for the old Sea Breeze.’ Judy’s aunt, May, dropped a box of pasties into the cardboard crate Edyth was filling with rolls and baked goods.

‘The last for the old hotel,’ Edyth concurred, ‘and unfortunately for business, I can’t see us making up many for the new Tiger Ragtime.’ Edyth tried to be philosophical. Her profits had soared courtesy of the workmen who had effected the transformation of the old hotel into the new club, but although she was optimistic by nature, she couldn’t see the nightclub staff buying a fraction of the goods that the men on the building site had done.

May checked the contents of the box against the scribbled order. ‘It’s a small box compared to the one we made up yesterday.’

‘Tony told me the workmen finished everything that needed to be done late last night. The only people going in this morning are the cleaners Aled James hired to put the finishing touches to the place ready for the grand opening tonight. This buffet is his thank-you to them for coming in early this morning.’

‘You looking forward to going to the opening?’ May asked.

‘I’m looking forward to hearing Judy sing, and spending some time with your family, but since I started running the bakery I’ve lost my enthusiasm for late nights. This candle’s getting too old to burn at both ends.’

May laughed. ‘You’re only nineteen.’

‘Some days, like today, I feel ninety.’ Edyth glanced at the clock. It was only half past six but she felt as though she had already done a full day’s work. ‘As it’s quiet, I’ll take my breakfast break. But if it gets busy, give me a shout.’

‘I will.’ May lifted the box they’d packed on to the back counter next to the till to await collection. Edyth pushed open the door to the kitchen and found Moody sitting with the postman, Bobby Harding. They were eating jam doughnuts and drinking tea. Bobby had been accustomed to taking his ‘second breakfast’ with Mordecai Goldman before Mordecai had sold the shop to Edyth, and he had seen no reason to alter his routine simply because the business had changed hands.

‘Tea’s fresh.’ Moody fetched another cup for Edyth. ‘Would you like a doughnut or a French breakfast roll?’

‘Both, thank you, Moody. Eating might keep me awake.’ Edyth sank down on a chair opposite Bobby. ‘This morning seems to be lasting for ever and I’ve only been working for an hour and a half.’

‘Time passes more slowly when you’re not busy.’ Moody poured Edyth’s tea. Knowing she didn’t take sugar, he pushed the milk jug towards her.

‘And we won’t be for a while, unless someone decides to convert another building nearby.’ Edyth took a doughnut from the plate on the table.

‘I can’t see that happening.’ Bobby opened his mailbag and flicked through the mail.

‘There might be another Mr James landing in the dock this minute.’ Moody wiped a dab of jam from his chin with his finger.

‘I don’t think so. Aled James is one of a kind,’ Edyth declared.

‘Post to cheer you up, and judging by the number of letters, somebody loves you.’ Bobby dropped a bundle of mail on the table in front of Edyth.

‘Thank you, Bobby.’ Edyth looked at it. There was one from Mary and she knew before she opened it that her sister-in-law would have filled nine-tenths of the pages with enquiries about David. What he was doing? Was he eating enough and properly? Was he making friends? Harry had made her promise not to write any news that might worry Mary about David. As a result Edyth had come to dread every letter she received from her sister-inlaw because she felt as though she was lying when she answered it – and that had been before David had taken a job as a bookie’s runner.

There was a letter from her estranged husband’s aunt, Alice Beynon. Edyth smiled and set the letter aside as a treat to be read over lunch. She and Aunt Alice had become good friends and, as Alice was an amusing and witty correspondent, she looked forward to Alice’s weekly epistles, which were full of wickedly accurate and caustic comments about Peter’s sanctimonious and hypochondriac mother.

There was a bill from the coalman and another from the wholesaler, which she knew would be for last month’s flour. It would be enormous but she took comfort in the thought that it would be covered by the increase in last month’s sales.

There was also a large fat brown envelope, postmarked Buenos Aires, addressed in a hand she recognised only too well.

She murmured, ‘Thank you,’ to Moody when he set a French roll in front her, took a knife from the drawer in the table and slit the packet open before dropping the knife into the bowl of utensils waiting to be washed. She removed the bundle of papers it contained and glanced at them.

‘Bad news, Mrs Slater?’ Moody asked when she remained silent.

‘No, Moody, just business.’ She bundled the papers together with her other letters. ‘Bills for the coal and flour and the like.’

‘I wouldn’t like to pay our flour bill for the last few weeks,’ Moody said feelingly.

‘It’s large,’ she agreed, ‘but as there was very little wastage, we sold enough goods to meet it.’ She left her chair and held up the bundle of papers. ‘I’ll put these in the office before I lose them.’

Moody nodded and topped up his own and Bobby’s cup, emptying the teapot. Edyth went into the small ante-room off the kitchen and deliberately allowed the door to swing shut behind her. She dropped her personal letters and the bills on top of her in-tray. Then she looked at the contents of the large envelope again. Written on the top sheet in large bold print was ANNULMENT OF MARRIAGE OF PETER GEORGE SLATER AND EDYTH RHIAN SLATER NÉE EVANS. A note fell from inside the typewritten pages.

Dear Edyth,

This is your copy. I have sent the originals to my solicitor and asked him to file them. By the time you read this we will no longer be married.