‘Knife and two plates. I know,’ he grumbled good-naturedly. ‘With customers like you and Haydn Powell I’ll be in the bankruptcy court next week.’
‘Better half a sale than none. Leastways, that’s what’s my dad always says.’
‘Your father has a thriving shop and the whole of the Graig to sell to.’
‘And you have an enormous café and the whole of the town to peddle to,’ she smiled. She pulled a chair out from a table crammed into a corner between the counter and the till. It was the only free table in the café but precious few meals were being eaten. A couple of customers had plates in front of them that held buns, cold pancakes or sandwiches, but most were nursing tepid cups of tea or Oxo.
‘Here you are. One tea, one iced custard slice, a knife and two plates.’ Ronnie left the counter and laid them on her table himself. ‘How’s that for service?’
‘Wonderful.’ She smiled at Gina. ‘Does he do this for all the girls?’
‘Only other people’s girlfriends,’ Gina said mildly. ‘That way he knows he can stay safely married to Papa and the business.’
‘Time you started bagging some of that change in the till, Gina,’ Ronnie ordered.
‘You know I hate doing that. My fingers get filthy and my nails break ...’
‘Gina!’ Ronnie warned in a voice that was used to being obeyed.
‘People are saying that you’re thinking of opening another café in that vacant shop opposite the fountain,’ Jenny interrupted tactfully.
‘Are they now?’ Ronnie murmured as he returned behind the counter.
‘Well are you?’
‘Better go and ask whoever told you. Seems they know more about my business than I do.’
‘Make way for two drowned rats,’ William shouted as he and Haydn burst, dripping and cold, into the café.
‘Hello sweetheart,’ Haydn ruffled Jenny’s curls with a damp hand.
‘I’ve got us a custard slice,’ she beamed, her face lighting up.
‘Can I take your order?’ Tina sidled close to William, pouted her well-formed lips, hitched her skirt up slightly, and stood in what she hoped was a fair imitation of the Jean Harlow pose.
‘Two teas, is it?’ Ronnie shouted from behind the counter.
‘And a couple of Welsh cakes,’ William replied, winking at Tina. ‘I’m starving.’
‘Aren’t you always?’ Haydn commented scathingly.
‘I haven’t a Jenny to take my mind off food.’ William stared at Tina. ‘Corner of Griffiths’ shop, ten o’clock tonight,’ he whispered teasingly. ‘I’ll walk you home if you spend the evening with Jenny. Sorry I can’t make it any earlier, but you know the market on Saturday nights.’
‘Tina, those back tables need clearing, and wiping down,’ Ronnie directed. He was too far away to hear what William was saying but he knew William – and Tina. They’d had a soft spot for one another ever since they’d been classmates in Maesycoed primary school. A soft spot that had led his father to decree that Tina could only talk to William in the presence of himself or one of her grown-up brothers. It was a rule that Tina made a point of breaking wherever and whenever she could.
Ronnie watched as Tina reluctantly dragged herself off to the back of the café. They stared belligerently at one another through the thick, smoky atmosphere as she began to heap dirty dishes into a pile. Finally her temper flared up again, to the delight of all the customers except William.
‘I am eighteen,’ she snapped.
‘And when you’re twenty-one you can do as you like,’ Ronnie said softly. ‘Until then you do as Papa and I say.’
Ronnie took his duties as older brother seriously, very seriously indeed. It had hurt when his father had blamed his lax attitude for Laura finding time to fall in love with an Irish Catholic doctor, as opposed to the nice Italian boy he’d wanted for his eldest daughter. Trevor had eventually gained acceptance, but not before Papa Ronconi had told his other five daughters, including little Theresa who was barely eight years of age, that when the time came they would be introduced to nice Italian or Italian Welsh boys who met with his approval. Apart from William’s wholly Welsh antecedents, there were other drawbacks. His wheeler-dealing, both on and off the market, coupled with the receiving charge that had led to his mother’s imprisonment, had given him a not entirely undeserved shady reputation. And Ronnie, who’d always had a discreet eye for the ladies, was beginning to see a far more reckless philanderer than himself in William, that made him all the more determined to keep William as far away from Tina as possible.
‘Bad luck about your sister, Haydn, I’m sorry,’ Ronnie sympathised.
‘Bethan?’ Haydn asked quickly, wondering what gossip had found its way to the café via the maids who worked for Doctor John senior, Andrew’s father, in his house on the Common. It still grieved him that the Johns had found out about Bethan and Andrew’s marriage (via the telephone) before any of her own family.
‘Not Bethan, Maud,’ Ronnie corrected. ‘I’m sorry, I thought someone would have gone to the market to tell you. She came in this morning on the Cardiff train.’
‘Maud’s home?’ Haydn asked in bewilderment.
‘She’s ill,’ Tina announced thoughtlessly, relishing the importance that the imparting of the news gave her. ‘She collapsed in the station. Wyn Rees carried her over here, then Ronnie had to drive her and Diana home.’
‘Diana’s home too?’ William interrupted.
‘They’ve left the Infirmary. Maud was told she was too ill to work ...’
‘Tina, you’d better finish clearing those tables before they’re needed for another customer,’ Ronnie broke in, silencing her. He poured himself a tea and looked around the café. Seeing no one clamouring for anything, he shouted to Tony, who was washing dishes in the kitchen, to take over the counter, then carried his tea to Haydn and William’s table.
‘I thought you would have heard,’ he explained as he sat down. ‘Half of Pontypridd saw Maud being carried out of the station.’
‘It obviously wasn’t the same half that’s been hanging around Charlie’s meat stall all day,’ William said caustically.
‘Or Horton’s second-hand stall.’ Haydn cupped his hands tightly around his tea. ‘What’s wrong with Maud?’ he asked Ronnie.
‘I took her to Trevor’s. He had a quick look at her before I drove her and Diana up to Graig Avenue,’ Ronnie murmured, wanting to delay the moment when he’d have to tell Haydn the truth. Then he looked into Haydn’s eyes and saw that he already knew. ‘It’s TB,’ he admitted bluntly, not knowing how else to phrase it. ‘Your mother and Diana were putting her to bed when I left.’
Haydn didn’t say anything, but his hand shook as he reached for the sugar bowl. Jenny fumbled for his other hand beneath the tablecloth. There were tears in the corners of her eyes.
‘How’s Diana?’ William demanded.
‘Diana’s Diana,’ Ronnie replied. ‘Cheeky as ever.’
‘Did she say if she’s staying?’
‘She said she had no intention of going back.’
‘Then she’s going to need a job.’
‘And a place to live.’ Diana closed the door behind her and shrugged her arms out of her sodden coat.
‘Long time no see, sis,’ William said unemotionally, moving his chair so she could fit another one in beside him.
‘My gain, your loss,’ she sang out as she hung her coat and scarf on the hat stand behind the till.
‘Didn’t expect to see you back in here today.’ Tina paused in between clearing tables. ‘How’s Maud?’
‘In bed asleep when I left.’
‘Best place for her,’ Ronnie said authoritatively.
Diana went to the counter. ‘I’ll have a tea and a hot pie, please Tony,’ she said. He poured the tea and gave it to her.
‘I’ll bring the pie when it’s ready,’ he smiled.
‘Surely you’re going to stay with us, Diana,’ Haydn said as she moved a chair between him and Willi
am.
‘Your mother says there’s no room.’
At the mention of Elizabeth everyone fell silent. Haydn could almost taste the air of oppression his mother carried with her whenever she walked into a room.
‘If Maud is ill you can’t share with her, that’s for certain.’ Haydn replaced his cup on his saucer. ‘But there’s always the box room. We can squeeze a single bed in there – just.’
‘But there is no single bed,’ Diana protested feebly, not wanting to tell her brother and Haydn about Elizabeth’s decisive pronouncement on her presence in the house.
‘You took your furniture over to your Uncle Huw’s, Will. Was there a bed?’ Haydn asked.
‘Five.’ William finished his tea. ‘Three single and two doubles. I saved all of Mam’s bedroom suites, bedding, rugs and china, as well as all the downstairs furniture. Uncle Huw threatened to hold an auction there when I left.’
‘That’s settled then.’ Haydn rose from his seat and reached for his coat and muffler. ‘Soon as you finish on the stall you can go over and get whatever Diana needs to furnish the box room. Dad can take it up on the horse and cart.’
‘Your father and Eddie will be calling in here before they finish for the day,’ Ronnie shouted above the hissing of the steamer. ‘They’re bringing my flour over from the canal wharf.’
‘In that case nothing could be simpler. You stay and wait for them, Di,’ Haydn suggested, ‘then you can go over to Bonvilston Road, pick out whatever you want, and they can take it up.’
‘Wouldn’t it be easier if I just moved in with Uncle Huw for a bit?’ Diana pleaded.
Haydn looked at her and instinctively knew where the problem lay.
‘Not with Will living the other end of town. It would look funny.’
‘Come on, Di, you don’t need me to tell you what a tip Uncle Huw’s house is. I don’t think he’s cleaned it since the Great War,’ William said drily.
‘Open horse and cart isn’t ideal in this weather,’ Ronnie commented practically. ‘The Trojan’s empty at the moment. There’s more than enough room for a bed and bedding in the back.’
Diana squirmed uncomfortably. ‘Aunt Elizabeth isn’t expecting me back,’ she said slowly.
‘Dad’s got a tarpaulin,’ Haydn said tactfully. ‘And the yard doesn’t close until late on a Saturday, so he won’t be in a hurry to take the horse and cart back. Best to leave it to him.’ Everyone took that to mean leaving Elizabeth to him, not the moving of the furniture.
‘If he needs a hand between six and seven, come and get me,’ Will offered. ‘There’s usually a slack time then. It picks up around eight o’clock, because people know Charlie cuts the price of any joints that are left, rather than see them get knocked down in the nine o’clock bell when the leftovers are auctioned. But if it’s not between six and seven, it’ll have to wait until after nine.’
‘I doubt there’ll be anything that Dad and Eddie won’t be able to handle between them.’ Haydn squeezed Jenny’s hand and whispered in her ear. She smiled and clung to him.
‘Walk me over to the Town Hall?’ he asked her.
‘It’s a hard life being a callboy,’ Will joked. ‘Nothing but pretty chorus girls, chocolates and nips of whisky backstage.’
‘I’d swap jobs with you any day!’
‘Need muscles to hump meat around, not pretty-boy looks,’ Will teased, flexing his biceps and wrapping his arm round his sister. ‘See you later, sis.’
‘Thanks, Will. Haydn.’ She wiped her eyes hoping that everyone would think she was still rubbing raindrops from her face.
‘One pie.’ Tony laid it on the table in front of her.
‘Before you go,’ she called out to William, Jenny and Haydn as they opened the door. ‘Any of you know of a job that’s going?’
‘No, but I’ll keep an eye open,’ Haydn shouted as he left.
‘Two, even,’ Will grinned as he followed Haydn.
‘What about you?’ Diana pressed Ronnie as he rose from his seat and cleared the dishes from the table.
‘With two sisters and two brothers over fifteen out of work, I always live in hope of hearing something, but at the moment there’s nothing about.’ Ronnie stacked the dishes on the edge of the counter.
‘Your family all work here!’ Diana remonstrated.
‘Work? Call that work?’ Ronnie pointed to where Tina was sitting perched on the back of a chair, deep in conversation with a couple of chorus girls from the show that was currently playing in the New Theatre. ‘My family visit here every day. They eat and drink the profits of the place, but they don’t work. They don’t know the meaning of the word.’
‘It’s that bad around here?’ Ignoring his grumbles, Diana stared glumly at her pie.
‘I’d start eating that while it’s hot,’ Ronnie advised. ‘The situation’s bad,’ he modified his opinion a little, ‘but it’s not that bad. Not for a smart girl. Pity I can’t call either of my sisters that.’
Diana cut the pie and began to chew it slowly, savouring its rich meaty taste. She made a mental list of places she could try for vacancies. If there had been anything going on the market or in the Town Hall, William or Haydn would have known about it, but then the market was only open on Wednesdays and Saturdays. A few of the food stalls, like Charlie’s, opened on Fridays too, but it was hard going, trying to keep yourself on three days’ pay a week. The only places that were open five and a half days were the big shops like Wien’s, Rivelin’s, Gwilym Evans and the Co-op, the three cinemas, and the theatres. If the New Theatre had needed help, Ronnie would have known about it with half the company eating in the café. As she scraped the last of her pie from her plate she decided to start on the big shops first.
‘Will you be working very late?’ Jenny asked Haydn as they pushed and jostled their way through the miserable, wet crowd of evening shoppers in the glistening, black and gold lamp lit market square.
‘You know Saturday nights.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘One company moves out, another in. They’ll want a hand to move their costumes, props and scenery into the vans.’
‘And with their last-night party.’ Her voice held a bitterness she couldn’t have concealed, even if she’d wanted to.
‘Jenny,’ he pulled her into the brightly lit shelter of the Co-op Arcade. ‘Don’t let Will’s teasing upset you. You know they never invite the likes of the callboy to the after-show party.’
‘I know no such thing. I saw the way that – that – chorus girl’, she almost exploded in indignation, ‘ogled you when we were sitting in the café yesterday afternoon.’
‘The girls do that to everyone,’ he said wearily, already tired of the conversation. It was one she insisted on having at least twice a week. ‘It’s habit. Nothing more. They’re so used to making eyes and smiling on stage, they don’t know when to stop. Half the time they don’t even realise they’re doing it. Will you wait up for me?’ he pleaded, grasping her hand.
‘That depends on what time you walk past the shop.’ Her voice was brittle. ‘I’ll be in bed by twelve.’
‘As I’m not likely to be walking up the hill much before one, I’ll not bother to call in.’
Devastated by the news about Maud, up at five to help set up and work on Horton’s stall, cold, tired, wet through and dreading the prospect of coping with keyed-up comics and chorus girls during an exhausting, final double house of revue which would last at least another seven hours, he was too numb to rise to Jenny’s bait. At that moment he decided if that was the way she wanted to play their relationship, she could play alone. Pulling down his cap, and turning up the collar of his good, partly worn overcoat that had come courtesy of Horton’s stall in lieu of wages, he stepped out into the rain-soaked throng milling around the stalls. Too proud to follow, Jenny continued to wander up the arcade towards Gelliwastad Road.
Inwardly she burned with righteous indignation, but the display windows either side of her grew misty as her eyes clouded with unshed tears. She loved Haydn
with all her heart, but she felt threatened by the facets of his life that took him away from her. His job as callboy swallowed every night of the week except Sunday, and that meant they could never spend an ordinary night when the cinemas or theatres were open ‘courting’, like every other young couple on the Graig. Even the busiest and best market mornings were out, because he helped out on Horton’s second-hand clothes stall. She had to count herself lucky if he stole enough time, as he had today, to grab a quick cup of tea in Ronnie’s before going to the Town Hall to begin his shift there. She knew his family needed the money, but she only wished he could earn it somewhere alone, in isolation, not in the Town Hall which was full of half-naked, predatory chorus girls, or Horton’s stall which acted like a magnet to all the would-be man eaters and vamps in the town.
Whenever she saw him standing beneath the canvas that covered Horton’s trestles, he was surrounded by admiring and giggling groups of females, and whether they were twelve years old or pushing thirty, they all looked at him with blatantly plaintive and adoring eyes. ‘Cow’s eyes’, she’d called them the last time she and Haydn had rowed. Every word he exchanged with them, every smile he sent their way, sliced agonisingly through her heart.
She’d frequently crept away from Horton’s stall before he’d noticed her presence. Running home where she could assuage her wounded pride by indulging in mild flirtations with the boys who picked up their mother’s groceries or bought odd cigarettes from her father’s shop. But no matter how late the shop closed, Haydn was inevitably still at work, and she was left with the dreary routine of supper eaten in a grim, oppressive silence with her mentally, if not physically, estranged parents. Followed by the door closing on her father as he left for the Morning Star to drown his sorrows over the loss of his one true love, Megan.
Her mother was no comfort. She lived out her life in a sweetly smiling torpor which enabled her, outwardly at least, to ignore most of the unpleasant aspects of her life, including and especially her husband. Desperate for conversation and companionship, some nights Jenny walked up the Graig hill and called in on the Ronconi girls. The large, warm family overflowed into every corner of their double-bayed terraced house on Danycoedcae Road, but their company, pleasant and amusing as it was, only seemed to accentuate her evening loneliness; and when she’d tried to discuss her problems with Tina Ronconi, Tina had laughed, telling her frankly that if she was tired of Haydn there were plenty of others, herself included, willing to take him off her hands.
Pontypridd 02 - One Blue Moon Page 4
