All That Glitters (37 page)

She shook her head.

He lit a cigarette. ‘Well, I am.’

‘Move along there! No one allowed on the beach. Move along there!’ A row of tin-hatted air-raid wardens were rousting out the vagrants sleeping in the shelter of the wall.

‘Out, that cigarette!’ one of them ordered Haydn. ‘Don’t you know there’s a war on? Every light, no matter how small, is an infringement of blackout regulations.’

Tempted to protest that the Germans weren’t likely to see one cigarette even if they had been flying overhead, Haydn thought better of challenging the man, and dropped it into the sand.

‘What, may I ask were you doing on the beach, sir, miss?’ A policeman accosted them as they reached the promenade. Jane began to tremble and Haydn wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

‘Looking at the sea.’ he answered.

‘Make the most of it, while you can. There’s no saying how much longer the beaches will stay open. Now if I were you I’d get home quick.’

‘I feel as though the war has started.’ Haydn said bleakly, straining to see the way to the fair through the blackout.

‘What gives between you and little Miss Muffet?’ William asked Haydn as they left the girls at the Ladies on the station.

‘Nothing.’

‘You two haven’t half been doing a lot of sneaking off for “nothing”. With what you’ve got in the Town Hall I’d never have thought you’d go for a plain Jane.’

‘She’s not plain.’

‘Aye aye.’

‘Aye aye what?’

‘Come on, Haydn, it’s got to be love if you think Jane’s pretty. She has a figure like a scarecrow with the straw taken out.’

Haydn gave William a look that cut even through the darkness. ‘Sorry. I had no idea it was serious.’

‘It’s not.’

‘If that’s so, then why are you looking at me like that?’

*……*……*

Eddie had never been much of a one for the pub or drinking, but after he cleaned the gym that Sunday night he stayed on in the Ruperra. He joined Joey and a few of the boys for a pint which became two, three, and ultimately he lost count of the number. If he’d had his bedroom in Graig Avenue to go back to, he probably would have left when the walls and floors of the pub began to waver around him. As it was, he remained seated next to Joey, getting caught up in round after round of pints; it seemed a better option than walking into the Griffiths’ flat and facing Jenny’s mother. He imagined her sitting in the over-furnished, stuffy living room knitting and listening to the radio with the same disapproving look on her face she’d worn when he’d left.

He couldn’t help thinking the clock back to this time a week ago. He’d rushed up the hill as soon as he’d finished in the gym, knowing that Jenny would be waiting for him in the storeroom. There hadn’t been a day between his proposal and yesterday when they hadn’t made love. But apart from the kiss in the church he hadn’t touched her since the vicar had declared them man and wife. Was this what all the half-humorous, half-serious warnings married men directed at single ones were about? That once a woman had a man’s ring on her finger it spelt the end of sex?

He’d wanted to marry Jenny because she was pretty and, unlike one or two of the other girls he’d gone out with, hadn’t minded taking her clothes off. He’d seen enough of his parents’ marriage to know the damage that a frigid woman could inflict on a man, and he’d promised himself that he’d never get caught in that trap, no matter how attractive the woman. Yet here he was, one day after saying ‘I do’ at the altar, more lonely and frustrated than he’d ever been.

‘Penny for them?’ Joey asked.

‘My thoughts aren’t even worth that,’ he said sullenly, emptying the pint glass in front of him.

‘I’ll grant you they look miserable enough from where I’m sitting. Married life disagreeing with you?’

‘It’s not a bed of roses.’

‘I tried telling you to stay away from females, but you wouldn’t listen. I’ve yet to meet the boy who does. Mind you, I didn’t expect you to look quite so glum so soon. Jenny problems?’

‘Mrs Griffiths problems.’ Eddie hedged evasively.

‘Is it true about Mrs Griffiths?’ Glan Richards whispered, as he looked around the bar which was almost deserted; the landlord only opened illegally for the gym and card school regulars on a Sunday evening.

‘She doesn’t turn into a witch and ride a broomstick at night. If that’s what you mean.’

‘I didn’t think she did,’ Glan said impatiently. ‘Is it true she doesn’t allow Harry into her bed?’

‘How in hell do you expect me to know that?’

‘You’re living there, aren’t you? Does he sleep in the box room?’

‘You know he does. Mrs Evans opposite told everyone on the Graig that years ago.’

‘Well does Mrs Griffiths ever go in the box room?’

‘Not that I’ve seen, but then I only moved in this morning.’

‘I think it’s true,’ Glan reflected. ‘After all, Harry always looks miserable. As if he doesn’t get enough “you know what”.’

‘You want to know something, Glan?’ Eddie rose unsteadily to his feet. ‘After you’re married, sex isn’t the only thing you think about.’

‘Go on!’ Glan stared at him in disbelief. ‘In that case I don’t think I’ll ever get married.’

‘That’s just as well, seeing as she’d have to be pretty desperate to take you on.’

‘Jenny’s in bed.’ Mrs Griffiths clutched her candlewick dressing gown close to her ample figure and eyed Eddie suspiciously as he staggered up the stairs. ‘She tried waiting up for you, but she gave up in the end. Which is hardly surprising, considering the hour. Try not to wake her when you go in.’

Eddie was about to say that now Jenny was his wife, he’d do as he damned well pleased in their bedroom, but the look in Mrs Griffiths’ eyes decided him against it. She stepped back as he loomed towards her. Banging clumsily into the wall he tried to open the bedroom door towards him before he succeeded in stumbling into the room. A bedside light was burning. Jenny was lying on her side turned away from him, a book propped up on the pillow in front of her.

‘You’re late.’

‘So what? I’m a grown man, it’s a free country, I can do whatever I please.’

‘As Mam says, you’re married now, and married people have to make sacrifices.’

‘Seems to me I’ve done nothing but make bloody sacrifices since I walked out of church with you yesterday morning.’

‘You went down the gym tonight.’

‘Only because I want to get enough money together to get us out of this …’

A banging on the wall interrupted him mid-flow.

‘Now you’ve woken Mam.’

‘I doubt your Mam ever goes to sleep. Most vermin are nocturnal.’

‘Eddie!’

The banging started up again and they both fell silent.

‘Why do I get the feeling she’s got a glass pinned to the wall so she can listen to every word we say.’ He sat heavily on the end of the bed and untied his bootlace. When one boot fell with a loud thump to the floor, he began on the other.

‘I took a walk up Leyshon Street this afternoon.’

‘That must have been nice for you.’

‘I saw some rooms.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘They weren’t bad. One down, one up, in Mrs Edwards’s house.’

‘Old Mrs Edwards?’

‘Her son’s signed up for the army and her daughter’s married. She’s going to have trouble making ends meet once he goes and she said we can rent them off her for ten shillings a week.’

‘Ten bob? You can rent a whole bloody house in Leyshon Street for that!’

‘If you can find one. Come on, Eddie, there’s only her in the house, it would almost be as good as having our own place.’

‘Ten bob’s more than we can afford.’

‘You agreed to pay Mam fifteen.’

‘But that included food.’

‘Eddie,’ she laid her hand on his arm. Her touch was enough to make him forget everything except his frustration. Leaning towards her he fumbled with the neck of her nightgown.

‘Eddie, not now,’ she hissed, conscious of her mother the other side of the wall.

‘Not now! Not bloody ever.’

‘Eddie …’

The banging started again.

‘It’s all right, Mrs Griffiths,’ he bellowed. ‘Your daughter’s saving her virtue for the worms, just like you.’ He picked up his boot.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Out.’

‘At this time of night? Eddie …’

‘When you find a place at a price we can afford, and you’re prepared to carry on where we left off before yesterday, let me know.’ He picked up his bag and stuffed into it the contents of the drawers and the few things in the wardrobe that were his, before storming out of the room and down the stairs.

‘You moving back in?’ Evan asked as Eddie walked through the door carrying a case.

‘For tonight,’ he growled.

Evan smelt the drink on his son’s breath. ‘If you come into the kitchen I’ll make you a cup of tea.’

‘Aren’t you on your way up to bed?’

‘No,’ Evan lied. ‘Just checking on Brian. I thought I heard him crying. Jane moved in with Diana yesterday so he’s back in his old room.’ He led the way into the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove to boil. ‘Trouble?’ he asked quietly.

‘Seeing as how no one in this house was all that keen on the idea of me marrying Jenny, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

‘No.’

‘I know you thought of her as Haydn’s girl.’

‘He told me before you got engaged that there wasn’t anything left between them.’

‘But you had to ask?’

‘We were talking about something else at the time.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like me, and Phyllis and your mam, if you must know.’ He spooned tea into the pot.

‘Oh Christ, what’s the use. It’s not really Jenny,’ Eddie said angrily, loath to divulge the whole truth to his father. ‘It’s her bloody mother.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘No you can’t. I came back from the gym tonight, and before I could even get into bed with Jenny, she started banging on the wall.’

‘Perhaps she’s scared of what you’ll do to her daughter in your condition.’

‘You saying I’m drunk?’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘I suppose I am,’ he conceded miserably.

‘If Mrs Griffiths is a problem, you could try moving in here.’

‘With Jenny?’

‘If Haydn moved upstairs with William, you and Jenny could have the front room.’

‘It wouldn’t work. Not with Haydn living here as well.’

‘The only problems between Haydn and Jenny are in your head.’

‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me.’

‘You’re probably still coming to terms with everything happening so quickly.’

‘It seemed like a good idea to get married when Jenny suggested it. With the war and everything …’

‘You’re not thinking of joining up?’

‘Not me. Not until they send for me.’

‘Then what did the war have to do with it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Eddie said illogically.

‘Seems to me that now the deed is done, you’ve two choices. Give up as your mother and I did, or make the best of it.’

‘There’s no best to make of anything in the Griffiths’ house.’

‘Then look for a place of your own, as you said you would.’ Evan handed him his tea.

‘We have.’

‘Obviously not hard enough.’

‘She said she found somewhere in Leyshon Street today. Rooms in Mrs Edwards’.’

‘And?’

‘And I was angry and said a lot of things I shouldn’t have.’

‘Stay here tonight. Think about what you want. Go for a walk with her tomorrow. If you talk it over between you, you should be able to sort out something.’

‘You think so?’

‘For both your sakes I hope so.’ Evan was exhausted; it had been a long day at the beach and he had to be up early to get a cart out first thing in the morning. If Eddie had been in a receptive mood he might have tried saying more to him, but in Eddie’s present contentious frame of mind there seemed little point. He looked back as he reached the door. ‘You do love her, don’t you, son?’ he asked seriously.

‘I suppose so.’

‘In marriage there’s no “suppose so”, it’s either yes or no, and that’s something I learned the hard way.’

‘I married her, didn’t I?’

‘Then it wouldn’t hurt once in a while to tell her you love her.’

‘Is that what you did with Mam?’

‘No, but that’s what I do with Phyllis. All the time.’

Chapter Twenty-two

Despite the deafening din of the alarm clock rattling in the biscuit tin next to his bed, William woke slowly and sluggishly. He reached out to switch it off. The first sensation his sleep-numbed brain registered as he silenced the noise was the skin across his shoulders, tight and burning from too much sun; the second was of a body lying next to him. Suddenly wide awake he turned swiftly and saw Eddie lying on his back, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

‘What are you doing here?

‘What does it look like?’

‘Jenny had enough of you already?’

‘No.’ Eddie answered shortly, leaving the bed and pulling on his trousers.

‘If I’d got married on Saturday, I wouldn’t have shared a bed with you last night.’

Ignoring his cousin, Eddie picked up the remainder of his clothes from the floor, pushed his bare feet into his boots, opened the door and clumped down the stairs. It was early, half-past three. Monday morning was baking and slaughterhouse morning in Charlie’s. William and Charlie took the slaughterhouse and he and Alma saw to the baking in the kitchen at the back of the shop. A full day, and he doubted that he’d had more than an hour or two of sleep. He felt foul, and because of the strict regime his trainer usually insisted on wasn’t sure why, although if he’d asked his brother or his cousin they would have diagnosed the classic symptoms of hangover. After washing, he finished dressing in front of the range in the kitchen. William joined him, but neither bothered with breakfast. There’d be time enough for that when the first joints were baking in the shop’s ovens.

Irritated by Eddie’s close-lipped silence, William couldn’t resist a gibe. ‘Going to call in and kiss your wife good morning?’ he asked as they left the house.

‘The old witch might put a spell on me.’

‘Her mother?’

‘You recognise the description.’

‘What’s she done to you?’

‘Not much, just wouldn’t stop banging on the wall when I went back there last night.’

‘Back there? Eddie, don’t tell me you went down the gym the night after you got married?’

‘Got an important fight lined up in a month. And Jenny didn’t seem to mind.’ It was convenient to blame the row between himself and Jenny on her mother. Half-truths were easier to remember than outright lies, and he’d have suffered any torments gladly rather than tell Will or anyone else in his family what had really triggered the argument between himself and Jenny last night.

‘Is that what she told you? She didn’t mind? God, you’ve a lot to learn about women.’

‘I’ve got nothing to learn about my wife that you can tell me.’

‘Look mate, you’re gunning for the wrong enemy. I’m on your side. Cigarette?’ William held out the peace offering.

‘Everything would have been fine if it hadn’t been for her damned mother interfering.’

‘Pity you didn’t have the sense to pick an orphan like your brother.’

‘Who’s he added to his string now?’

‘Jane.’

‘Jane? In the house Jane?’

‘I don’t know of any other.’

‘She’s not Haydn’s type,’ Eddie declared emphatically, tightening his fists at the thought of Jenny wanting to kiss his brother barely an hour after she’d married him.

‘That’s what I’d have said, but you should have seen them together in Barry Island yesterday.’

‘You went to Barry Island?’

‘All of us. Your father and Phyllis as well.’

‘And you didn’t think to ask me?’

‘You expected us to knock you up from your wedding night in the New Inn to invite you to Barry Island?’

‘You could have.’ Eddie couldn’t help thinking that a trip to Barry Island would have been infinitely preferable to spending the day arguing with Jenny, and eating Mrs Griffiths’ Sunday dinner in the uncomfortably warm, oppressive atmosphere of the Griffiths’ living room. But then Haydn would have been there and, if William was to be believed, with Jane. But would he have stayed with Jane, if Jenny had been there? Questions seared through his mind, inflaming raw and bleeding jealousies. Did Jenny still love Haydn? Did Haydn love her? Had Haydn made love to her behind his back since he’d been home, despite all the denials?

‘What’s the New Inn like?’

William’s conversation maddened him like a nagging toothache.

‘You’ve been in there,’ he said.

‘Not to stay. I’ve never had the money.’

‘It’s like I expected it to be. Full of puffed-up flunkeys and overpriced drinks.’

‘Not a good idea of Beth and Cashmere Coat’s, then?’

‘Good enough. You sure about Haydn and Jane?’

‘They kept disappearing. It wasn’t so obvious on the beach because Jane can’t swim. Someone had to stay with her, and you know me and Di.’

‘Out with the ferries.’

‘Not quite that far. But when we got to the fair your father and Phyllis took Brian home early and Haydn told – didn’t ask, mark you – told us that he’d see us at the chip shop at dusk. Then off he marches arm in arm with Jane.’

‘You think it’s serious between them?’

‘How should I know? Haydn says not, but then you know your brother; since he’s come home he’s played his cards close to his chest.’

‘But you think there’s something in it?’

‘Diana saw him kissing her. What amazes me is that with all that delectable crumpet going begging in the Town Hall, he picks out a girl who looks like Olive Oyl. But then looks aren’t everything, or so all the old, ugly women keep telling me. Not every man can be as lucky as you with Jenny. Now there’s a looker for you.’

‘That’s my wife you’re talking about.’

‘As if I didn’t know. Between you and Haydn I never got a chance to put my oar in, not even in school. Not that I’d want to now,’ he added swiftly, realising what he was saying, and who he was saying it to. Marriage certainly did change a man, and not for the better if Eddie was anything to go by. A couple of days ago he could have said almost anything to him, and Eddie would have shrugged his shoulders and laughed. Now holding a conversation with him was like trying to walk on a carpet of eggs. ‘I know the first rule of self-preservation: married ladies are out of bounds.’

‘You didn’t think so last spring,’ Eddie reminded him acidly.

‘That particular married lady had a husband who was too old to appreciate her. You’re not old, you’re also handy with your fists and I’m an abject coward. I hereby declare that Jenny’s entirely yours, and I promise not to even cast as much as a glance in her direction. Look, we’ve got a couple of minutes to spare,’ he said as they drew close to Griffiths’ shop. ‘Why don’t you nip in and make it up with her?’

‘No.’

‘This is one time you shouldn’t dig your heels in. Go on, Eddie, it’ll blight your day if you don’t. I’ll wait for you.’

‘You really think I should?’ Eddie slowed his step.

‘If I had a wife like Jenny, and we’d quarrelled, I’d be crawling back on my hands and knees, begging forgiveness.’

‘Even if it wasn’t your fault?’

‘What’s fault got to do with anything when the stake is sleeping in her bed as opposed to mine?’ William leaned against the wall of the small shop opposite Griffiths’ and lit a cigarette, watching as Eddie crossed the road and walked round to the side door in the yard.

Eddie tried the storeroom door; it was open. Had Harry left it open, or had Jenny come down last night and opened it, hoping he’d come back? He stole through the shop and crept quietly up the stairs. Jenny’s bedroom was closed. He turned the knob and went in. She was lying curled on her side, her face wet with tears, her blonde hair spread out in a silken spray on the pillow next to her.

‘Jenny?’ he whispered. ‘Jenny …’

Her eyes flickered open, heavy and hazy with sleep. She looked at Eddie for only a moment before closing them again, but her mouth curved upwards into a lazy, loving smile. ‘Haydn …’

‘It’s your husband, not your lover!’

‘Eddie! Oh my God, Eddie!’

‘What’s going on here!’ Mrs Griffiths slammed open the bedroom door, her face shiny with cold cream, iron curlers in her hair. ‘I thought you left last night. If you’ve come back to hurt my daughter …’

‘Hurt her!’ White shock paled Eddie’s face as he started to laugh. ‘She’s not worth bloodying my fists.’

‘Eddie!’

William heard Jenny’s hysterical screaming as Eddie latched the yard door behind him.

‘What happened?’ he asked, running to catch up as his cousin walked on down the hill. ‘Look, I’m sorry,’ he murmured, chilled by the bleak look on Eddie’s face. ‘I should have kept my mouth shut. I was only trying to help …’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Eddie said in a cold, dead voice. ‘It really doesn’t. Nothing matters any more.’

Charlie was waiting for them outside the slaughterhouse on Broadway, a side of beef balanced on his broad shoulders. ‘You’re late.’

‘Lazybones here wanted to stay in bed and cuddle his wife.’ William explained, glancing sideways at Eddie.

‘There’s two pigs ready gutted waiting to be carried to the shop.’

‘We’re there.’

‘Thanks.’ Eddie murmured as they walked through the huge double doors.

‘For what?’

‘Not letting on to Charlie where I slept last night. Not that he won’t latch on soon enough.’

‘Think nothing of it, mate. After all, it’s not as if it’s permanent. Is it?’ he dared to ask as Eddie moved on ahead of him.

Alma had already lit the stoves, so all that had to be done when they arrived at the shop was the cutting and preparing of the carcasses into joints ready for cooking. Eddie set to work, but he did so mechanically, preoccupied with thoughts of Jenny and Haydn. He allowed the oven doors to swing wide as he lifted the heavy roasting and baking trays in and out of the stoves, and much to Alma’s annoyance he also poured away the water the hams had boiled in, and drained the fat instead of keeping it for her to use in making pork pies. Both of them were glad when six o’clock finally came and he left her to carry on with baking the pies, pasties and croquettes while he opened up the shop for the early customers. Even then, every time the bell rang he looked up fearfully, half expecting, half hoping to see Jenny in the doorway. Wondering what he would say to her if she did actually materialise.

The early trickle thickened to a mid-morning rush, but Jenny still hadn’t put in an appearance by midday when Charlie and William came in from the slaughterhouse.

In silence he toyed with the meat baps Alma had cut for him, pretending to read the paper so he didn’t have to contribute to Charlie and William’s discussion on the war news and who in the town was likely to get called up first, or see the looks Alma and Charlie exchanged when they thought no one was looking; looks that reminded him of just how close a man and a woman could be. He wondered what Jenny was thinking now. Was she too afraid to confront him? Probably. And then again even if she did come, what could she possibly say that he’d listen to? What excuse could she have for refusing to make love to him in the night and calling him by his brother’s name, in her bedroom the following morning?

William and Charlie finished their meal and left to do the rounds in the new van. The day lagged on, the piles of meat and cooked pies diminished and there was still no sign of Jenny. But he couldn’t stop looking out for her, right up until the moment Alma pushed the bolts home on the door.

Whatever problems he’d faced before, he’d tackled them square on, settling most of them with his fists. But this was one situation he couldn’t fight his way out of. He could hardly punch Jenny – or for that matter her mother – on the nose. Neither could he help thinking of Harry Griffiths and the miserable celibate life he led under his own roof. Well, he’d show Jenny. He’d told her he wasn’t like her father. If she was giving what was his by right to Haydn, then he’d just have to find someone else. Someone who could remember his name, and wasn’t too particular about wedding rings.

By the time everything in the shop had been washed down and cleaned ready for the morning he’d thought of a hundred and one excuses for not going up the Graig hill and confronting his wife. He’d said all that he had to say. There was nothing for him there. He’d already packed and taken everything that was his out of Jenny’s bedroom. She wouldn’t be expecting him. And then again maybe she didn’t even want him any more. Maybe she was with Haydn right now – making love this very minute? Then he realised he was being irrational. How could she be, when Haydn was on stage in the Town Hall?

Nor would Phyllis be expecting him. After all, hadn’t his father told him to make amends with Jenny? He’d left the house that morning before Phyllis had come downstairs, and he doubted that either his father or William would tell her he’d been there. That left the gym. His training was more important than ever now. It offered a way out from Pontypridd, and away from Jenny. He could buy himself tea in a café – not Ronconi’s, William or Diana might be there – but one of the others. Egg and chips was filling and cheap enough. And after his training and a few pints he’d go home – to Graig Avenue. If Jenny had gone looking for him there, Phyllis or his father would know about it, and if she hadn’t, he would shrug his shoulders and say he hadn’t expected her. That way he’d save face. That was the most important thing of all at the moment: impressing on everyone that what had gone wrong wasn’t his fault, that it was a case of wife turned brother’s whore. More than any man except a saint like Harry Griffiths could possibly put up with.

*……*……*

‘I saw you skulking in the bushes with your little usherette.’ Babs propped herself in the open doorway of Haydn’s dressing room.

‘We weren’t skulking, we were walking.’ Haydn stared at her in the mirror as he continued to smooth greasepaint on to his face.

‘She’s a bit of a come-down for a man like you, after what you’ve been used to.’

‘I’d say I was going up in the world.’

‘With a plain Jane like that?’

‘Who was it said, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”?’

‘A woman who had nothing going for her.’

‘We are feeling more than usually bitchy today, aren’t we?’

‘You’re not even going to deny it, are you?’

He turned sideways on his chair and faced her. He loathed scenes, particularly the hysterical, emotional traumas Babs was adept at engineering, but this was one row he was going to have to suffer sooner or later. And with yesterday fresh in his mind, he decided it may as well be sooner, for both his own and Jane’s sake.