Rhiannon (8 page)

The conversation over tea was light-hearted. Walter was a natural and found conversation easy with the two young girls. It pleased Florrie to see that both girls had taken to Walter – but then who wouldn't? He was such a love. Whereas Florrie relied on her talent as a performer to carry her through. Mind you, she did make them giggle when, both of them having both eaten so heartily, she teased them saying, ‘I'd rather feed you two for a week than a fortnight.'

It was only when they made to go that Rhiannon suddenly became tense. ‘Aunt Florrie, what's to become of us?'

Florrie hesitated. This was the moment she'd been dreading. ‘Well, the first thing we have to do is get you booked into the hotel.'

Walter interjected. ‘I've already spoken to the manager and luckily there's a room right next to your aunt, ready and waiting for the two of you.'

Florrie threw him a warm smile.

‘Really? We've never stayed in a posh hotel before. There's lovely, isn't it, Mair?' Rhainnon gushed.

‘Yeah, I suppose so,' Mair said.

‘Come on then. We'd better get a move on. Your aunt has another show to do tonight,' Walter urged.

Florrie smiled. ‘There speaks the voice of an agent. But Walter's right. I've been having such a good time I almost forgot about tonight's show. Tomorrow is Sunday and my day off. What do you say to our discussing the future in the morning, over breakfast, after we've all had a good night's rest?'

Walter led the way from the tearoom to the lift situated on the other side of the impressive reception area. With its wall-to-wall red carpet and sparkling crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, so huge, it took the girls' breath away. Rhiannon and Mair held hands and looked up in amazement as Walter pressed the button to call the lift and, as if by magic, in what seemed like only seconds later, the metal doors opened to reveal a flimsy looking metal gate which the lift attendant, a young boy bell-boy, slid to one side.

As the lift started to ascend Mair closed her eyes. She felt light-headed. She really didn't enjoy the feeling of being elevated at speed
and was glad when the lift jolted to a stop on floor three.

Rhiannon on the other hand couldn't contain her excitement. ‘Ooh! What fun.'

The bell-boy smiled.

As they left the lift the girls quietly followed Florrie and Walter down a long red-carpeted corridor, flanked by honey-coloured panelled walls and numerous brass wall-lights.

Halfway down the corridor the party slowed down.

Walter fumbled with the key. ‘This is your room right next to your aunt.' He unlocked the door and handed Rhiannon the key. ‘I'm just across the hall from you all, so if there's anything you gals need, just knock on my door.'

‘Now girls, I'd like you to unpack your things and have an early night,' Florrie instructed.

Walter gave them a reassuring look. ‘As soon as I drop Florrie off at the theatre I'll be back. I need to catch up with some correspondence so, if there's anything you need ... just knock on my door.'

With Walter gone, the girls were on their own. To their surprise their room was quite spacious, much bigger than the one they shared back home. There was a wardrobe, a dressing-table, a small writing-bureau and a closet hiding a washbasin and toilet facilities.

After quickly unpacking they washed themselves, slipped into their nightdresses and jumped into the luxurious double bed. They were too excited to sleep and spent most of the night recalling their time at the theatre. With their heads under the bedclothes, they attempted to sing from memory all the popular songs they'd heard during the show. When sleep came at last, Rhiannon dreamt she was dancing with Gus Davenport, his arms holding her, his warm lips brushing her cheek arousing her body with feelings she didn't understand.

 

Early next morning Rhiannon awoke, confused. She rubbed her eyes and began to take in the unfamiliar surroundings of the spacious room, which was now lit by the shafts of daylight that filtered through a gap in the heavy brocade curtains.

Leaving Mair still fast asleep in the bed Rhiannon quietly made her way over to the window. She pulled back the curtains to reveal a day of brilliant sunshine and a spectacular view of Cardiff Castle and the adjacent streets. She felt her spirit rise; since her father's death the weather, like her mood, had been black, depressing and cold.

Her thoughts turned to Frank. When they left him at the station he'd
looked so forlorn. She missed him. She hoped he was well recovered after his ordeal underground. She felt suddenly homesick. Then she remembered the letterbox in the hotel's impressive reception area. She could write a letter. Yes ... that was what she would do ... she'd write to Frank.

As Rhiannon placed the carefully folded letter into the addressed envelope she hoped her light-hearted approach would work. She
wondered whether Frank, knowing her as well as he did, would read between the lines. If he did he'd realize how homesick she truly felt. For all the excitement that Cardiff and the theatre had to offer, she would give anything to turn back the clock to her happy, uncomplicated and secure life, before the colliery accident. She gave a deep sigh... .

‘Morning, Rhi.' Mair yawned, her hands rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Rhiannon quickly slipped the letter into the pocket of her skirt. This letter was just between her and Frank; she didn't want it pawed over by Mair.

‘I'm starving. What time's breakfast?' Mair asked.

Rhiannon thought, typical Mair, always thinking of her stomach. Mind you, it did seem a long time since tea yesterday. ‘I think we're expected to wait until we're called for.'

Rhiannon walked to the closet in the corner of the room and poured water from the jug into the china bowl. After she'd washed and dressed she encouraged a sleepy Mair to do the same.

Once dressed Mair suggested they knock on Aunt Florrie's bedroom door to ask about breakfast.

‘I don't think that's such a good idea. Aunt Florrie wouldn't have arrived back from the theatre until late last night. I'm sure she'd not thank us if we disturbed her this early. I wouldn't want to be the one to upset her but if you... ?'

Mair shook her head and pulled a face. ‘No thanks! I know, what if I nip across the hall to Walter's room? He said we should knock on his door if we needed anything, and I need breakfast!'

‘I suppose—' Rhiannon was interrupted by a timely knock on the door.

Rhiannon opened the door to a cheery-faced Walter. ‘Good morning, gals. I've called to escort you down to breakfast. It's just us three I'm afraid. Your Aunt Florrie always has her breakfast in her room. But she sends her regards and told me to tell you that she'll see you later.'

As the girls entered the breakfast room their eyes focused on the long buffet table groaning with more food than they had ever seen.

‘Our regular breakfast table is the one in the window. What say we settle ourselves down?'

Once they were seated a waiter, dressed in a crisp white shirt with a stiffly starched collar, black bow tie, waistcoat and trousers came to their table.

‘Good morning, sir. Will it be the full breakfast for three?'

‘No. It's a bit too early for me. I'll just have a pot of strong coffee. But these two gals are probably ravenous? Rhi, Mayre, what do you fancy?' The girls stayed silent, not knowing how to order or what to say. Walter, sensing their growing panic, said, ‘How does bacon, scrambled egg and hot buttered toast sound?'

They nodded eagerly.

‘Then that's settled.'

‘Will that be all, sir?' the waiter asked.

‘I think two glasses of milk would make it just fine.'

While Walter read the
Daily Telegraph
they ate heartily – the food tasted delicious.

Walter waited for them to finish, then lowered his newspaper. ‘Well, that's the quietest you two have been since I met you. No need to ask if you enjoyed it, eh?'

The girls smiled.

‘Right. It's time to discuss the plan for this morning. Rhi, your aunt has requested you join her for a chat in her room as soon as you finish breakfast.'

‘What about me?' Mair asked petulantly.

Walter, ever the diplomat, ignored her tone and just smiled, ‘Well Mayre, I thought that you and I might take a stroll to Victoria Park. What do you say?'

Mair hesitated.

Walter pressed further. ‘I've been looking for an excuse to visit for days, they've had a delivery of new exotic animals ... you really would be doing me a great favour.'

Mair cursed him for putting her on the spot. If she refused him she would show herself up as a real brat. ‘Yes, all right,' she mumbled, as she tried not to show how miffed she was at Florrie only asking to see Rhiannon. She wondered if this was the start of things to come?

 

Rhiannon gave a light tap on Florrie's bedroom door.

‘Come in, child' Florrie called.

Rhiannon entered the light, spacious room and breathed in the heady scent of rose petals.

Florrie was lazing on top of the huge double bed, dressed in an elegant long cream-silk robe, heavily embroidered around the cuffs and collar and tied in the middle with a wide cummerbund. With her shoulder-length hair hanging loose and only a touch of face powder
and lipstick she looked so much younger than the night before – more like the Aunt Florrie Rhiannon remembered.

‘Rhiannon, dear, we need to talk.' Florrie patted the bed, indicating that Rhiannon should sit facing her. When Rhiannon did as she was bid Florrie, looking decidedly uncomfortable, continued, ‘The thing is that since last night I've had more time to think about you and Mair coming to stay with me... .'

‘We'll be no trouble, you'll see,' Rhiannon said eagerly.

‘Yes, I'm sure. In a perfect world I would take you in and we'd all live happy ever after. But life is not that simple.' Florrie looked away.

‘Are you saying you don't want us?' Rhiannon asked.

‘Rhiannon, you have to understand. It wouldn't be so bad if it was just you; after all, you're flesh and blood, but Mair? Look, what if we try to find Nellie? I'm sure, as her mother, she could be persuaded to take Mair in.

‘No!'

‘I beg your pardon.'

‘I'm sorry, Aunt Florrie. I didn't mean to shout. But I promised Mair we would stay together. It's what Dad would have wanted. Mair knows that neither her mother nor the rest of her family want her – I'm all she has. I'll not be parted from her. If you don't want us we'll—'

Florrie raised the palm of her hand, ‘All right – all right. I don't know how we're going to manage it, but I'm willing to give it a try, on the understanding that it can only be short term, until my contract ends. Rhiannon, I do remember you were once good with a needle and thread.'

‘I still am.'

‘Good, I'll have a word with Mrs Gordon, the theatre's wardrobe mistress. I'm sure she would welcome an extra pair of hands. The trouble is, what to do with young Mair. By rights she should be at school. I shall make some enquiries. You do understand, Rhiannon, this can only be a temporary arrangement; after all, my career must come first.'

Although Rhiannon nodded her agreement, in truth she didn't understand how her Aunt Florrie could put her career before her family. But she instinctively knew not to voice her true feelings; instead she reach out to give Florrie a hug.

‘Thank you, Aunt Florrie, you'll not regret it.'

‘Don't be so quick to thank me. While you're with me your lives will revolve around my work, the theatre and theatre folk. You'll soon discover that they're a breed of their own.'

It was late afternoon when Frank Lewis, having just finished his eight-hour shift down the pit, wearily followed the colliery railway line along the mountain path to his home a mile away in Ponty. Since that fateful day when the fall in the pit had taken Dai and fifteen other miner's lives, Frank had hated his job; so much so that at the start of every shift he dreaded the day ahead. A day spent listening for every sudden noise – and there were many, filled him with fear, anticipating another fall.

Frank would have done anything to change his job and leave the valley. But as the main provider for his family, he knew it was out of the question.

After his father's death, his mother had come very close to losing their tied colliery house. At first Frank had been very grateful to Dai Hughes for taking him on as his apprentice. Right up until the day of the accident Frank remembered how proud he'd felt to be Dai's butty. Now, while still struggling to come to terms with the recurring nightmares of that day, he would be eternally grateful to Dai for saving his life.

The day the accident victims were buried Frank had sobbed like a baby. He had been unable to come to terms with the fact that better men than he had lost their lives. The guilt he felt at seeing Dai's daughters, their father taken so suddenly, going through their grief. Never once had they questioned or blamed Frank for their father's death. While he understood the wrench it must have been for the girls, he couldn't help but envy the fact that Rhiannon and Mair had been given the opportunity to leave the valley and begin a new life.

Since their departure not a day had gone by when he didn't think of Rhiannon. How he missed her. The day she and Mair had left him standing on the station made him realize how deeply he felt for
Rhiannon, and perhaps, if things had been different he and Rhiannon... ? He stopped himself. Who was he fooling? With her exciting new life in Cardiff and him stuck here in the valley. They might almost be in different worlds.

‘Hello son. Had a good day?' his mother asked.

‘Tell me, Mam, how you think that working down that stinking hole for eight hours could ever be a good day?' he snapped. Then, seeing his mother's distress, he wished he hadn't vented his feelings on her.

Ethel nibbled her bottom lip, ‘I'm sorry, lad. I so wish—'

Frank caught his arms around her. ‘No Mam, I'm the one who should be sorry. I'm such an ungrateful, miserable bugger. I promise I'll buck up when I've had my bath and a bowl of that stew you're cooking on the stove.'

His mother forced a smile. ‘That's all right, son. I know something that's going to cheer you up better that a bath or a bowl of stew. Look on the mantelpiece. There's a letter for you. Jones the post delivered it this morning. It's got a Cardiff postmark. It's from Rhiannon, I recognize her writing!'

Frank headed for the mantelpiece. He grabbed the letter, hastily opened it and proceeded to read its contents.

After a few minutes his mother's impatience got the better of her. ‘Well what's the news? How are they getting on?'

‘Fine, I think. Only, reading between the lines like, to me Rhiannon sounds homesick. She sends her love to you, Sadie and Martha.'

‘Oh, that's kind of her,' his mother said. ‘She always was a good girl. Mind you, I think she'll have her hands full with young Mair. Mair's mother was such a bad 'un, and you know what they say: “an apple never falls far from the tree”.'

‘Don't say that, Mam. The way Dai took her in, insisting on treating her as his second daughter, especially after her own mother upped and left her, must have influenced her. She and Rhi are so close. I'm sure Mair looks up to Rhiannon.'

‘I do hope so. I still can't believe how Dai allowed that Nellie Parsons to use him. When his Rose, Rhiannon's mother, was alive he seemed such a sensible, level-headed fellow. I swear, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I'd never have believed how a bit of skirt could've turned his head. So ... you take heed, son.'

 

Nellie Parsons stepped into her petticoats and pulled them up over her long stockings and drawers. She bent down to buckle her high ankle-boots
before reaching for her new turquoise woollen dress with its tight, figure-hugging bodice. Nellie had been so pleased when Harry had arrived home one night with the dress.

‘Harry, it's so lovely. I've never had such a beautiful dress. It must have cost you the earth.' She was touched; surely only a man in love would spoil his woman so?

Nellie threw her arms around him and kissed him full on the mouth, a long lingering kiss, and all the while her firm breasts rubbed against him with the promise of a lot more. Harry was all hers and he truly loved her. She felt so happy ... but her euphoria was to be short-lived.

As Harry lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, he chuckled. ‘I'd say the dress will prove a shrewd investment. The better you look, the more punters and the more earnings, eh?'

Nellie stared at her reflection in the rust-speckled mirror above the marble-topped washstand. She liked what she saw. She drew a deep breath that caused her breasts to push against the fabric of the turquoise dress, the bright colour a perfect contrast to her pale-blue eyes. The bodice of the dress was a bit too low in the front, but what the hell: it was what the punters wanted.

Nellie smiled. Six months of working on the streets of Cardiff had changed her into a real glamour-puss. She brushed back her shoulder-length light-brown hair and retouched her red lipstick and rouge. Then she took her straw hat with its wide brim, its crown covered with silk flowers and placed it on her head.

Nellie glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was almost seven o'clock, time she was on her way to the theatre. How she wished she didn't have to go. But she knew only too well what Harry would say and, more to the point, what he would do if she hadn't earned enough money. With this thought in mind Nellie picked up her fox-fur stole and kid gloves and headed through the door.

Nellie had hoped that Harry's display of temper on the first night would not be repeated – wishful thinking on her part. Where she was concerned he had become far too handy with his fists, and clever enough never to hit her where the bruises would show.

Since Nellie's hasty departure from Ponty, Harry had felt it prudent not to return there himself. ‘I think I'll try the Canton area here in Cardiff for a while. Everyone says that, for a salesman with my talent, with the steelworkers all earning such good money, there's rich pickings just for the taking.' He threw Nellie a wry smile. ‘I think I'd really enjoy persuading their womenfolk to part with some of it.'

She knew he was trying to make her jealous. But she ignored it. ‘Why try somewhere else? I thought you said you were doing well up the valley.'

‘Yeah, but you know what they say: a change is as good as a rest.'

At first Nellie had suspected that the real reason for the change was that Harry didn't want to risk coming face to face with Dai or, for that matter, any of his mining butties, though she wouldn't dare say it to his face. Of course, since then, with the accident in the mine everything had changed. No Dai, and, up to now, thank God, no news from Mair. Nellie convinced herself that the girl must be all right; if it were otherwise surely she would have heard by now. It suited Nellie to pretend she'd never given birth.

As it turned out Harry's transfer of his work to Canton had been a good one. He was doing really well. In the last few months, as promised, they had moved to new and better digs in Westgate Street. This one had two bedrooms – which meant she didn't have to entertain the punters in her and Harry's bed. Like the curtains in the rooms, the Victorian furniture was dark and gloomy, but, for the time being, they would have to do.

Harry's working in Canton meant no more staying away or late-night train journeys. Most days he left around half past eight in the morning and arrived back in Cardiff around ten o'clock at night. Then, not wanting to risk disturbing her with a punter, he would go straight to the King's Head pub, on the corner of their street, and wait for her. Nellie usually arrived well before stop-tap to hand over her earnings.

Harry's mood depended on how many punters she'd had and how much they paid.

 

It was almost 10.30 when Nellie entered the King's Head. A drunk almost bowled her over as he made to leave; he reeked of stale smoke, beer and sweat. The noise coming from inside the tap room was deafening and through the haze of smoke the pale gas lights flickered. Once her eyes had become adjusted she saw the sea of bowler hats, cloth caps and flowered bonnets all milling around the piano: the usual Friday-night revellers out for a sing-song and a bloody good time.

Nellie spotted Harry, looking as dapper as ever, at the bar. He smiled and nodded, but it was only when she discreetly handed him four crisp white fivers, her earnings for the night, that he pulled her to him. Playfully slapping her arse he said, ‘That's my girl. I told you, you're sitting on a gold mine.' She could tell he was pleased.

Nellie loved it when he called her ‘his girl'. But if she was his girl how could he just stand by, and encourage her to sleep with other men?

Later that night Nellie, having downed a few ales and sensing Harry's continued good mood, plucked up the courage to ask, ‘Harry?'

‘Yeah?'

‘Now that you're doing so well in Port Talbot, couldn't I give up doing what I'm doing?'

‘Want to be a kept woman then, do you? Well, think again!' Harry sniggered.

‘I didn't mean that. I'd find another job, honest,' Nellie pleaded.

‘Don't make me bloody laugh. What else are you qualified for?' Harry scoffed.

‘Maybe I could work in a shop, or a pub, or—'

Harry raised his hand in front of her face. Nellie ducked, expecting him to strike her, but instead he caught his arms around her.

‘You daft ha'peth. When are you going realize that this is what you're good at?' He threw back his head and laughed loudly. ‘Thinking about it, you were probably born on your back with your legs in the air. That's why it comes so natural to you.'

He was still laughing when Nellie shouted at him. ‘Are you saying that you expect me to sleep with anyone willing to pay for it for the rest of my life?' She felt her tears well up.

‘Of course I don't! Now you're just being silly.' He caught her up and gently kissed her forehead.

Nellie gave a sigh. For once her tantrum had paid off. Surely no man wanted the woman he loved to sleep around, not even for money?

‘Now Nellie, you have to listen to me. It's not in my interest to steer you wrong. You've just got to bide your time. At the moment the reason you're doing so well is because you have age on your side.'

She pulled away from him. ‘So, I've got to wait until I'm too bloody old, is that it? And pray tell me when that will be?'

‘I'd say, at most, another year, maybe two.'

‘Bloody charming.'

‘I'm only being practical. It stands to reason that most men want their women young and firm; some say the younger the better. And that's where the big money's to be earned.'

‘And in two years' time what's going to happen to me?' What she really wanted to know was, would he want her, but she was afraid to hear his answer.

‘By then, my sweet, if I have my way, we'll have a few young girls
working for us.'

She smiled. While she liked the sound of
for us
, indicating togetherness, his plan sounded too incredible for words. ‘Christ! Are you saying you want to run a brothel with me as the madam?'

‘Now don't go jumping the gun. Let's take one step at a time. Our aim at the moment should be to recruit new blood. Someone to take over from you. Now, if we could find a pretty new youngster then ... it would make sense for you to take a step back and just concentrate on showing her the ropes.' He pulled her to him and kissed her mouth in a way he hadn't kissed her for a long time. It felt so good.

‘What do you say, Nell, are we partners?'

‘Oh yes – yes, whatever you say.'