All That Glitters (19 page)

‘Diana’s already asked me.’

‘And?’

‘And I was a bit worried about bumping into someone who might know me.’

‘Like me’

‘Like someone who works in the Central Homes.’

‘Don’t worry. Most of the staff there see no further than the uniform. No will recognise you when you’re with us.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Sure.’

She returned to the kitchen. Diana was pouring batter into a Yorkshire pudding tin and William was sitting hunched at the table still dressed in his Vest, his nose buried in the News of the World. She sat in Evan’s chair and resumed her mending. She’d long since finished the pile she’d brought from the theatre and was half-way through Phyllis’s basket.

‘That’s my shirt!’ William shouted, pouncing on the garment Jane was inspecting. He held it up in disgust. ‘I can’t wear this. It’s not even ironed, and it’s my Sunday shirt.’

‘There’s a button missing on the cuff,’ Jane said. ‘If you like I’ll mend it, and iron it when I iron the rest of these things.’

‘You little sweetheart.’

‘Call me that and I’m not likely to do it.’

‘Prickly, aren’t we?’

‘Only when big clumsy boys are around,’ Diana interrupted.

‘Now both of you, out of here,’ she pushed her brother from the front of the stove into Eddie who’d emerged from the washhouse.

‘I’ve a dinner to cook and you’re underfoot.’

A traditional Sunday dinner eaten with a family was a new experience for Jane. Nothing could have been more different from institution eating than sitting around the big kitchen table with the Powells. The room was warm, steamy and full of cooking smells. The conversation, loud, raucous and humorous, was deafening after the stern silence of workhouse meals, where the only sounds had been an occasional ‘Stop talking there’ shouted by duty staff above the tinny clang of cutlery scraping on plates. ‘Jane will think we’re savages.’ Evan observed after a particularly loud outburst of laughter. He lifted Brian from his high chair on to his lap, and presented him with a stick of Yorkshire pudding soaked in gravy.

‘He’s going to get you into a mess, Evan,’ Phyllis warned.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Evan beamed benignly, gratified by Phyllis’s disclosure that Jane had already presented her with seven shillings and sixpence for her week’s lodgings, and better still that she had come by the money honestly, doing mending for the chorus girls. It wasn’t so much the money that concerned him, but that Phyllis’s good opinion of Jane had been endorsed. The small things, such as window cleaning and scrubbing down the back yard that Jane had done to help Phyllis had already proved her industrious. It was good to know that she was trustworthy as well. He knew just how upset Phyllis would have been if Jane had hadn’t deserved the confidence put in her.

He sat back and watched Diana check on an enormous treacle pudding in the oven. Brian caught a glimpse of it and jumped up and down on his lap.

‘Finish your meat and potatoes first,’ Phyllis ordered.

Evan smiled indulgently at his small son, as he soaked another piece of Yorkshire pudding in gravy for him. Diana was a first-class cook, and by taking over the Sunday dinner she’d freed Phyllis’s Sundays, not only for her, but also himself. He’d begun to enjoy his day off as he hadn’t done since he was a child. Early morning walks, followed by a good dinner, ‘afters’ and tea; then a half-hour rest sitting next to the stove with his pipe and newspaper before walking down the Graig hill with Phyllis and Brian to have Sunday tea with William and Eddie’s boss, Charlie and his wife Alma. Ever since Charlie had left to marry Alma and set up home in the flat above the shop the two families had taken it in turns to visit one another for Sunday tea. And supper would be eaten in his daughter Bethan’s house. Soon there’d be a grandchild. Life was looking up for the first time since the pits had closed and the depression had begun to bite.

‘Do you think Jane could wash out her dress and hang it in the washhouse to dry?’ Diana asked Phyllis. ‘She only has the one, and although Mrs Richards would have a fit if she saw it on the line on a Sunday I thought it might dry in the washhouse with the window open.’

‘It might, but it would do better in here over the airing rack.’

‘I never thought of that.’

‘Put it in the washhouse first, Jane. Then when everyone goes out I’ll move it in here.’

‘Thank you.’

‘If I lend her my green dress, she can wear that until tomorrow morning. You don’t have to be in work until the afternoon do you, Jane?’

‘Not tomorrow, no.’

‘Well, that’s settled.’ Diana collected together her own and Jane’s plates, but the boys were still jealously guarding theirs, soaking up the last vestiges of gravy with great slabs of bread that William had cut in the pantry, much to Diana’s disgust. ‘I’ll help Jane wash out her clothes after we’ve done the dishes, but first you’d better come up to my room and see what you can borrow, Jane.’

‘You going out?’ Evan asked.

‘With us,’ Diana answered. ‘You wouldn’t believe how little Jane knows about Ponty.’

‘Enjoy yourself, love, but be careful who you talk to.’ There was a note of caution in Phyllis’s voice.

‘Come on, Phyllis,’ William ribbed. ‘Who could she possibly run into in Ponty who’d wish her harm?’

‘You for one, Will,’ Eddie winked at Jane. ‘He fancies himself as a ladykiller. But don’t worry, Phyllis. I’ll take care of her for you.’

Haydn didn’t walk home after he left Babs at the door of her digs. Instead, he retraced his steps into the centre of town. The weather was glorious, not just sunny, but for the first time that year, really warm as well. Even the grey stone that clad the railway embankment sparkled in the bright light. And the sun dancing on the gleaming windows of Ronconi’s café practically blinded him as he passed.

‘You’re a stranger.’ Tony Ronconi was standing in the doorway looking out for potential customers. ‘Too good for our company now you’re a big star.’

‘You know better than that. I’ll be in this evening, same as when I lived here.’

‘A man can’t pay his rent on promises.’

Haydn threw back his head and laughed. ‘You sound just like Ronnie used to, when he was running this place.’

‘I’m beginning to find out why he was always so bad tempered.’

‘Heard from him lately?’

‘Not since Laura and Trevor came back from Italy’

‘Maud writes.’

‘I know. Diana shows us her letters, but I don’t recognise the man, or should I say paragon of virtue, she married as brother Ronnie.’

‘That’s what love does to you.’

‘So they say,’ Tony murmured sceptically.

Haydn carried on walking, nodding to people he knew, but careful not to get involved in any more time-wasting conversations. When he reached the fountain he cut up Penuel Lane on to Gelliwastad Road, through Gelliwastad Grove, past the library and on to Tyfica Road. He’d always admired the houses in this part of town. The streets were wider than on the Graig and lined with mature trees. The semis they shaded were broad built and solid, with steep steps leading up to stained-glass doors and porches. He walked the length of the road checking numbers. When he found the one he wanted, he looked around before mounting the steps. Ignoring the highly polished brass bell he knocked softly with his knuckles on the glass.

‘I’ve been waiting for you for hours.’

‘I got held up. Family dinner, you know what it’s like.’

‘Not any more.’ Rusty opened the door wide enough for him to slip into a dark-panelled hall. ‘Let me take your jacket.’

‘Where’s your landlady?’ The house seemed unusually silent, even for a Sunday.

‘She’s not my landlady. Just a friend of my sister’s. They went to school together, and,’ she smiled wickedly as she undid the top three buttons of her blouse, ‘she’s out, won’t be back until late. Her husband insists on a weekly visit to his parents’ farm. It’s somewhere with a totally unpronounceable name.’

‘Like Ynysybwl?’

‘Like Ynysybwl,’ she agreed softly, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs.

The park was packed with people dressed in their summer Sunday best. Light cotton flower-print dresses and straw hats for the girls and ladies, white shirts and flannels for those of the men who were in work and could afford them. Dark trousers and collarless shirts for those who couldn’t. It was as crowded as town on market day, and whether it was the throng of people, the brilliant green of the manicured grass, the display of radiant blooms in the flowerbeds, or simply the fresh air, birds soaring overhead and the company, Jane felt suddenly and inexplicably happy. The prospect of an afternoon’s holiday beckoned enticing and exciting in front of her. She had a shilling in her pocket (she’d put aside the rest of her money against the day when she would open her bankbook) and she had Diana to talk to, who’d turned out to be every bit as nice as Phyllis.

The others were constantly turning around and urging her to keep up. She didn’t mean to lag, it was simply that there was so much to see and linger over. Clouds of violets bloomed in the shady spots at the bases of tall beeches and elms, and in the cultivated flowerbeds roses, pansies and lilies were opening their buds and raising their multi-coloured heads. She had only been in the park twice before, both times when she had lived in Maesycoed Homes. They had been marched directly to the playground after church in a crocodile so hedged about with housemothers there had been no opportunity to admire anything. Then they had been allowed to run around for precisely ten minutes before being herded together again for the return journey.

A young man eyed her up and down, tipped his hat and ventured a ‘Hello’. She didn’t think he’d been in the workhouse, but even now, in the park, dressed in Diana’s clothes, she still felt vulnerable despite Eddie’s assurances that no one would recognise her.

She walked away, half expecting the man to call her back. When he didn’t she began to wonder if it could be as Daisy and Phyllis had suggested. Was it possible that she was pretty? She certainly felt it in Diana’s dress. It was a light flowery green on a background of white. Diana had declared that her tam had been too heavy for it, and insisted that she borrow a straw hat. Diana had also managed to wave the front of her hair before tucking the rest of her shorn crop beneath the brim. The effect had been dazzling when Jane had viewed herself in the mirror. Not as dramatic as the change Mandy and Judy had effected, but certainly more ladylike.

She ran on, leaving the boy behind and caught up with Diana who was talking to Jenny Griffiths, Eddie had insisted on calling for her as they had walked down the hill. She was very pretty, blonde and delicate looking, a perfect foil for Diana’s dark exotic beauty.

Jenny eyed Eddie as they reached a row of benches overlooking the tennis courts, where members of the tennis club, dressed expensively in tennis whites, were playing.

‘I’m absolutely whacked. I refuse to move another step until you buy me an ice cream, Eddie,’ she proclaimed as she perched daintily on the handkerchief she’d spread out on a seat.

‘Ice creams all round?’ Eddie looked at William, Diana, Jane and the two Ronconi girls, Tina and Gina who’d joined them as they’d walked past the café, much to their brothers’ annoyance.

‘Yes, please.’ Diana linked arms with Gina and Tina and walked to the next seat where they sat in a huddle and began to giggle.

‘I’ll get the ice creams if you like, Eddie,’ Will offered.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Jane volunteered. Lacking the confidence to join Diana and the Ronconi girls, she was far too embarrassed to join Jenny and Eddie. From the adoring looks Eddie was sending Jenny’s way it was easy to see which way the wind was blowing there.

‘You coming?’ William asked impatiently. Jane had been waiting for him to collect money from everyone, but he was already striding down the path towards the open-air swimming pool.

‘How do you like living in Pontypridd after Church Village?’

‘I like it well enough,’ Jane replied guardedly.

‘It’s not a bad place to live,’ he declared with the world-weary air of a middle-aged man. He was unsure how to treat Jane. If she hadn’t been living in the same house as him, he would have tried flirting with her – out of Tina Ronconi’s earshot. For as long as he could remember he had nurtured a passion for Tina, that had extended to two kisses at the back of the Catholic Hall after a dance, but their embryonic relationship was one that her brothers and father had so far successfully thwarted at every turn.

‘You work for the same butcher as Eddie?’ Jane asked, steering the conversation on to safer lines.

‘I do, but I spend most of my time on the market or in the slaughterhouse. Eddie’s got the cushier option in the shop.’

‘I think he’d disagree with you.’

‘Probably, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. But what about you? How’s the Town Hall going?’

‘Fine.’

‘Haydn always used to moan that it was hard work. He hated picking up litter after the shows. He was always complaining about the chewing gum sticking to his fingers.’

‘I’ve done a lot worse than scrape chewing gum off floors,’

‘Like what?’

‘Scrub outside steps and yards.’

‘There must be a lot of those on a farm.’ He walked up a short path that led to a low-built café. The windows opposite the door looked out over the swimming pool. Clear blue water bubbled and boiled with rubber-capped heads, and the occasional foot of those who dared to do underwater handstands.

‘It’s always like this on a warm Sunday,’ William said, following her glance. ‘Look, you can’t squeeze a pin between the people sunbathing at the top end. It’s a regular suntrap below those walls. An hour there can be as good as an afternoon in Porthcawl.’

‘Porthcawl?’

‘The seaside. Don’t tell me you’ve never been there?’

She shook her head.

‘You prefer Barry Island?’

‘I’ve never been there either.’

‘We’ll have to do something about that.’ He pushed a green wicker table and chair aside and walked to the counter. ‘How many are we?’

Used to doling out ice creams in the Town Hall, Jane said ‘Seven’ without hesitation.