Authors: Catrin Collier
‘I hope I won’t ever lose you, or any of the others. And you won’t be walking down the aisle for three years yet.’
She pushed her doubts about college to the back of her mind. ‘I’ll try to be a credit to you.’ She hugged him.
‘You already are Edie. But if you are determined to improve yourself in any way, you could try to be a little less accident-prone. I hate to see you hurt yourself.’
‘I’ve never broken a bone deliberately, Dad.’
‘I know that, my sweet. Sleep well.’ He followed her into the hall and watched her walk up the stairs. He returned to his study. Sali was sitting on the sofa, waiting for him.
‘I saw Edyth hug you, so I take it that went all right.’
He shrugged. ‘Our talk went fine. As for her and the curate, time will tell. Is it so terrible of me to hope they won’t get married?’
‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘But you do know that the girls won’t allow you to pick their husbands for them, don’t you, darling?’
‘I know. But Edyth and Peter Slater are so …’ Maggie laughed in the kitchen and Lloyd realised that if he could hear her, she could hear him. He left the sofa and closed the door. ‘Mismatched,’ he declared quietly.
‘You can’t stop a girl from falling in love with a man, however unsuited they may be, any more than you can stop a starving miner from striking. If Peter should prove to be Edyth’s choice of husband, it’s out of our hands, Lloyd.’
‘Prove to be?’ he repeated. ‘Then you don’t give her your blessing, either?’
‘For all that she believes herself grown up, she
is
still very young.’
‘The hardest thing about having children is allowing them make their own mistakes. It’s torture to stand by and watch, knowing they’re heading for disaster and won’t take a blind bit of notice of anything that’s said to them until it’s too late. And even if you try to warn them, they’ll take it the wrong way, clam up and probably never come to you with their problems again.’
‘It’s late, you’re maudlin.’ She left the sofa and went to him. ‘Let’s go to bed and leave Edyth and the curate to live their own lives.’ When Lloyd hesitated, she added, ‘They will anyway, with or without our blessing.’
‘You’re a wise woman in many ways, Sali Evans, but I sometimes wonder if the biggest mistake you made was to marry me. I see a streak of Joey’s wayward stubbornness in Edyth.’
‘Poor Joey. He’s the hard-working director of the largest and most successful chain of department stores in South Wales, a charitable pillar of the community, respectable married man and father of five, yet you and Victor still see him as your wild, womanising younger brother.’
Lloyd refused to be mollified. ‘He almost messed up his life.’
‘But thanks to Rhian, he didn’t, and Edyth won’t.’ Sali tried to inject more conviction than she felt into her voice in an effort to hide her own concern about Edyth’s choice of suitor.
But a frown furrowed her forehead when she knocked on Edyth’s door later and went in to kiss her daughter goodnight. Edyth was already asleep. The cup of chocolate Mari had brought her stood untouched, cooling on her bedside cabinet. Sali kissed Edyth’s forehead before removing the cup. She couldn’t help wishing that her daughter was a child again, with nothing more serious on her mind than the next picture she would draw and which frock to wear in the morning.
Micah Holsten lowered his saxophone. ‘You sing like a lovesick angel, Judy. That is absolutely the best “Crying the Blues Away” I’ve heard, but,’ he glanced at his wristwatch, ‘I have to be at a meeting of the seaman’s relief committee in the Sailors’ Home in Stuart Street in ten minutes.’
‘Same time tomorrow, Micah?’ Jed asked.
‘It suits me if it suits everyone else. Let’s see if we can get a couple of these new numbers in when we play the White Hart on Saturday. It’s great playing in a different pub every weekend but we don’t want to stick to the same repertoire. The landlords may not have heard us before, but chances are the audience will have.’ He laid his saxophone gently in its case, closed it and opened the door of the room that served as a cloakroom to the Norwegian mission church during services, and Bute Street Blues Band rehearsal room during the week. A crowd of seamen, who’d been sitting on the stairs, applauded when he appeared. Micah bowed as if he were the conductor of a grand orchestra and held out his arm to his fellow band members.
‘I’ll walk you home, sunshine, and call in on Mam.’ Jed slipped his arm around Judy’s shoulders. ‘How’s she been lately?’
‘Suffering more than most of us in this heat, Uncle Jed.’ Judy picked up her handbag. ‘But, you know Gran, heat or no heat, she won’t stop cooking and cleaning. She’s on her feet from morning till night.’
‘You two all right for money?’
Judy knew what it had cost her uncle to ask her that question. With six growing children, a pregnant wife, no regular work and only his earnings from playing in the pubs and clubs during the last few weeks, he didn’t have enough coming in to keep his own family, let alone his niece and mother. And none of her other uncles was in a better position to help.
‘We managed before I lost my job. And I still have the five pounds that Mr Evans gave me to replace the frock that was ruined at that wedding. With what I’ve been making with the band and helping out two mornings a week peeling potatoes in the chip shop, we’re managing.’
‘You’re a good girl, Judy. You’ve looked after Mam better than most daughters, let alone granddaughters.’
‘What goes around comes around.’ She followed him out of the mission. ‘Gran didn’t have to keep me when Mam died and Dad went to sea and never came back.’
‘She didn’t, but you’ve long since paid back any dues you owed. Bye, Micah, Tony.’ Jed shouted his goodbyes to the rest of the band, Judy blew them kisses and they walked down the street.
‘I have never known a summer like this one. In Wales, that is.’ Jed took his handkerchief and mopped his face. ‘Crossing the equator, yes. Docking in Mombasa, yes. The Caribbean, yes. But Cardiff, never.’
‘It must be wonderful to travel,’ Judy said wistfully.
‘If you want to do it, sunshine, nothing can stop you. But a word of advice: try to do it first class. A seaman sees very little beyond a port. Some are smaller than others, some are dirtier, but most of them are much of a muchness.’
‘First class costs money.’
‘No one can go anywhere, first or third class, without a ship. If this Depression bites any harder, they may as well close the docks because nothing will be sailing in or out of Cardiff. There’s no point in shipping coal when no one has the money to pay for it.’
They crossed the road and skirted a crowd of boys playing football with a tin can. They were in no hurry and neither were their friends and neighbours who were out taking the early evening air. Jed and Judy walked slowly through the network of terraces and side streets, exchanging gossip, admiring new babies and making preposterous plans for the band which they both knew would never happen. But that didn’t stop them from trying to outdo one another.
‘One day we’ll play the Waldorf Hotel in New York,’ Jed declared. He knew a man who had worked there as a bellboy and waxed lyrical about its luxurious rooms.
‘And the Ritz in London.’
‘The Moulin Rouge in Paris,’ Jed rejoined swiftly as if they were playing a game of snap.
‘The Casino in Monte Carlo.’
‘The Coliseum in Rome.’
‘Bands don’t play there,’ Judy countered. ‘Only gladiators, and they fought there hundreds of years ago.’
‘We’ll travel back in time,’ Jed continued.
‘And play for the Roman emperors,’ Judy laughed. ‘It’s good to have dreams.’ She turned the key that was always left in the lock of Pearl King’s front door, and walked in.
Jed frowned. ‘Mam should be sitting out on the step on a nice evening like this.’
‘She said it was too hot.’ Pearl and Judy’s next-door neighbour, Mrs Francis, had carried out her kitchen chair and was sitting chatting to Mrs Hawkins, who lived on the other side of her, while darning her sons’ and husband’s socks.
Judy walked down the passage and called out, ‘Gran?’
Jed followed and saw Judy run to his mother, who was lying slumped on the kitchen floor.
Peter slipped a key from the enormous bunch he had been wrestling with into the lock of the door of the church hall, and turned it.
‘At last, the right one.’ He withdrew it and tested the door by putting the weight of his shoulder against it.
‘It was a good rehearsal tonight.’ Edyth waited for him to finish checking the hall was secure. ‘You’ve succeeded in firing the children’s imaginations. Did you hear them practising their “giant” voices? I can’t wait to see their finished papier-mâché Goliath head.’
‘I caught a glimpse of their drawings for a flannel-covered whale. No seamstress could create anything so elaborate.’ He pocketed the keys. ‘You’ve done a good job of writing the play, Edyth. It’s brought the story to life. Every member of the group has identified with David, which is what I was hoping would happen.’
‘It’s easy to work with children when they’re enthusiastic.’
‘Do you think they’ll be ready to perform it before you leave for college?’
‘I don’t see why not if all the rehearsals go as well as tonight.’ She took the arm he offered her. ‘Provided that is, if Goliath is ever finished. He’s taking an awful lot of newspaper.’
‘I can’t believe the summer is almost over.’ He raised his hat to a passing schoolteacher.
‘In less than three weeks I’ll be setting off for Swansea.’
‘Are you looking forward to it?’ He stopped suddenly and looked back at the hall.
‘I checked all the windows, twice,’ she assured him. ‘And yes, I am looking forward to going to college,’ she answered, hoping he’d drop the subject. In fact she wasn’t looking forward to leaving him behind in Pontypridd, and she was also beginning to wish that she’d never promised her father that she would go to college if she matriculated.
‘But you’re just a little apprehensive?’ he ventured.
‘How do you know?’
‘Because it’s how I felt before going to Lampeter. It’s nerve-racking to go to a strange town when you know no one there and haven’t a clue what to expect.’ He stopped at the kerb to allow an empty coal cart, drawn by a tired old horse, to pass.
‘I’ve been to Swansea on holiday lots of times so it’s hardly a strange town, and I’m not going alone. Two other girls from the sixth form will be first years as well. Although they weren’t special friends of mine and won’t be studying English, I’ve a feeling we’ll cling together until we find our feet. And it’s bound to be fun living in a dormitory full of girls my own age. Miss Jones – she’s my history teacher and only six years older than me – told me that her college days were the happiest of her life, which is hardly surprising as she cares for her elderly mother now, and the only time she leaves home is to go to school.’
What she didn’t tell Peter was she’d called in on Miss Jones and her elderly mother because she’d wanted to talk over her doubts about going to college with someone. For the first time in her life, she felt that she couldn’t confide in either of her parents, although she had written to Bella, care of the hotel she and Toby were staying at in New York, to tell her about Peter’s courtship – and her reluctance to leave him for three long years.
‘Did Miss Jones say why her college days were so happy?’ He escorted her across the road and they began to climb the hill.
‘She said that she and her friends used to go for long walks around Swansea Bay in the evenings. And on summer weekends they used to bathe in the small bay behind Mumbles Head. And of course there are all sorts of cafés and ice-cream parlours in Mumbles as well as the town, and two really good theatres, not to mention the cinemas and the shops –’
‘You do realise you haven’t mentioned studying once,’ he teased.
‘The studying part is easy,’ she dismissed. ‘I had my book list last week. I’ve read most of them and I’ve always enjoyed writing essays. That probably comes from being one of a large family. With everyone talking at once, writing was often the only way I could express my thoughts.’
‘I enjoy writing as well. To my tutor’s astonishment I even liked writing sermons in college when I knew I would probably never get a chance to deliver them. It’s stood me in good stead. The more preparation I do before a service now, the more confident I feel about delivering it.’
‘Are you giving a sermon again on Sunday?’
‘Yes,’ he smiled. ‘And I have a small surprise for you.’
‘What?’ she asked eagerly.
‘It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you. Reverend and Mrs Price asked me to invite you to dinner on Saturday evening, if you are free.’
‘That’s the surprise?’
‘No.’
‘You know I keep my Saturday evenings free for you.’ She stopped to breathe in the scent of a rose bush in bloom. ‘Should I write Mrs Price an acceptance note?’
‘No need, I’ll tell them you’ll be delighted to be their guest. Although you won’t be, once you’re there.’
‘I like Reverend and Mrs Price. They’re lovely people and good company,’ she remonstrated.
‘I couldn’t agree with you more.’
‘Then why shouldn’t I be delighted to accept their invitation?’
‘I can see you haven’t dined with them.’ He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was close enough to listen in on their conversation. The street was deserted but he still lowered his voice. ‘I will never admit I said this in public, but Mrs Price has one fault: the way she treats food is sinful.’
Edyth burst out laughing. ‘She can’t cook?’ She took his arm again and they moved on.
‘I didn’t say any such thing.’
‘But you meant it. It also explains why you visit us so often around mealtimes.’ She stepped closer to him as a crowd of young men dressed in shorts and football boots ran past, their middle-aged trainer panting breathlessly behind them. ‘Do you want me to ask Mari to pack you a picnic of cake and sandwiches so you can have a midnight feast?’
‘Don’t joke. You have no idea how tempted I am to take you up on that offer. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve woken in the middle of the night suffering from stomach pains. I’m never quite sure whether they’re hunger or indigestion.’
‘You poor man,’ she sympathised.
‘I’d like to find my own accommodation. The problem is it suits the Church, and the Reverend and Mrs Price, to have me live at the vicarage, so I can be close at hand in case of an emergency.’
‘Will there be any other guests at the dinner?’
‘The Bishop, the Dean, and their wives.’
Her eyes widened. ‘They want to meet me to see if I’ll make a suitable vicar’s wife, don’t they?’
‘They want to meet you, because I’ve told them about you and your father’s consent to our courtship. But there’s no need to be concerned. They’re people, the same as you and me.’
‘They’re anything but the same as you and me,’ she contradicted. ‘The Bishop can make or break your career.’
‘That’s for me to worry about, not you, Edyth. All you have to do is be yourself and they’ll love you.’
‘Most of my parents’ friends are union people and politicians. I’ve never met a bishop or a dean, not outside of church anyway. What on earth do I talk to them about?’ she demanded in panic.
‘Knowing the Bishop and the Dean, they’ll monopolise the conversation. All you’ll have to do is follow it and be ready to contribute if they ask your opinion. And if I were a betting man, which I’m not, I’d stake money on them spending the greater part of the evening on a post-mortem of the last test match at Headingley. Your father is well-known for his left-wing sympathies so I don’t think they’ll be insensitive enough to bring up the subject of the Soviet persecution of the churches.’
Mentally she ran through her wardrobe. One or two of her evening dresses were too elaborate for dinner at a vicarage, but she had a plain navy silk that Peter hadn’t seen; only it had a low neck. Would the Bishop be offended?
‘What should I wear?’ she asked, but before he had time to answer, she realised clothes and conversation weren’t her only problems. ‘Should I bring anything?’
‘Gifts aren’t necessary, although Mrs Price may appreciate a bunch of flowers from your garden.’
‘Roses,’ she said decisively. ‘A dozen long-stemmed cream buds. And for Reverend Price?’
‘As I said, please don’t feel that you need to bring anything, but one of your apple flans or a lemon cake might go down well. He has a sweet tooth, and the only cakes Mrs Price bakes that deserve the name are rock cakes. And, if you give him a cake, he’ll feel duty bound to share it with me so you’ll make two people happy.’
‘You haven’t said what I should wear?’
‘You always dress beautifully but …’
‘But?’ she repeated uneasily. It was the closest he’d come to criticising her and she was instantly on the defensive.
‘How about the brown suit and cream blouse you wore the other evening?’ he suggested.
‘The linen Mam bought me for college that Maggie calls my dowdy schoolmarm outfit?’ Edyth tried not to sound disappointed. She adored pretty clothes and loved wearing silk in the evening.
‘The Bishop and the Dean’s wives dress plainly and I’ve never seen Mrs Price in anything other than black.’
‘According to Mari, not since her brother was killed in the Great War. He was in the same regiment-as my Uncle Joey.’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘You’re right, there’s nothing worse than being overdressed,’ she agreed, reminding herself that it was Peter’s career not her clothes that was important. And, as everything in her wardrobe had been bought at cost price because her mother worked in the department store Harry had inherited, her wardrobe was bound to be more extensive than that of Mrs Price and possibly even the Dean’s wife. ‘I’ll make sure my brown suit is clean and pressed.’ They reached the end of her road. ‘Are you coming in for supper?’