by Rosie Harris
‘Do we have to leave all our furniture behind?’ Fern asked sadly as they filled two battered fibre suitcases with their personal belongings and any knick-knacks that Wynne thought they might be able to sell in order to raise a few shillings later on when they were in Cardiff.
‘I don’t see what else we can do. We need to be out of here tonight because the rent man will call first thing tomorrow morning and we certainly don’t want to waste what little money we have paying him, now do we?’
‘Can’t we sell the furniture before we go? Dai Roberts buys and sells second-hand furniture.’
‘Not much chance of that. I had considered it but I was afraid to do anything about it in case anyone got wind of our plans. Even now it’s risky because someone might spot what was happening and we don’t want anyone knowing we are leaving Blaenafon.’
‘What about if we could persuade Dai Roberts to agree to buy it and we asked him to come and collect it tomorrow and we make sure that it is not until after we’ve gone?’
‘How on earth is he going to get in if we’ve already left?’
‘We could tell him we had to be at work early tomorrow morning and that since we couldn’t hang about waiting for him to come, we’d leave the door unlocked so that he could come in and collect the furniture whenever he’s ready to do so.’
Wynne shook her head. ‘I doubt if Dai Roberts would swallow a tale like that, my lovely. He knows I haven’t got a job and that you are still at school.’
‘Well, then why not give him the door key and ask him not to disturb you?’
‘What about payment? Knowing him, he won’t want to part with any money until he’s got the goods.’
‘He might do, if you say that you’ve come to do the deal tonight because you need to have the money ready for the rent man. Everyone knows that he calls first thing in the morning on anyone who is behind with their payments so he’ll understand.’
‘Well, I suppose it might be worth a try,’ Wynne admitted. She looked at the clock and shook her head. ‘He probably won’t want to do business at this time of night.’
‘All we want him to do is to come round and see what there is here and tell us how much he’ll give us for it. Everybody says that Dai Roberts can’t bear to miss a bargain. If he thinks there’s any money to be made, he’s always ready to do business.’
Giggling nervously like a pair of school children they put on their outdoor clothes and went to see Dai Roberts.
Although he pretended it was far too late to discuss the matter when Wynne explained the situation and how she desperately needed the money for the rent man by first thing the next morning or else he would be sending the bailiffs in, Dai eventually agreed to come and see what was on offer.
He drove a hard bargain, haggling over the price even though he agreed that there were some good, solid pieces of furniture and that it would be a shame to let the bailiffs get their hands on them.
He was reluctant to part with money in advance but when Wynne offered to hand over the door key his eyes narrowed and he pursed his mouth, pulling on the long droopy ends of his moustache thoughtfully.
‘That’s a cock and bull story about you being in bed and not wanting to be disturbed, isn’t it?’ he said with a sly smile. ‘You’re going to skedaddle, right? You don’t intend leaving any money for the rent man, now do you? Well, fair-dos, that’s your business, but what happens if I don’t get all the stuff I’ve bought out of the place before the rent man calls?’
‘Then it’s up to you to make sure you get here bright and early, before he does,’ Wynne told him.
‘Yes, but there’s a big risk in all of this for me,’ he pursued, tugging away at his moustache.
Wynne and Fern waited anxiously for his decision.
‘Tell you what,’ he said at length, ‘I’ll do the deal with you but not at the price I agreed to pay; I’ll give you half of what I offered you.’
‘That would be daylight robbery,’ Wynne protested. ‘I might as well leave it for the bailiffs.’
‘If that’s your decision, then there’s nothing more to say.’ He turned and made for the door. ‘Damno! I ought to be charging you for wasting my time,’ he said in an angry voice.
‘Hold on, Mr Roberts, we’ll be gone before you come tomorrow morning so you can take anything else you want, everything that we leave behind,’ Fern burst out.
He paused and stared at her. ‘Everything?’
‘That’s right,’ Wynne agreed. ‘We’ve already packed what we are taking,’ she pointed to the two suitcases and the large bundle in one corner of the room. ‘There’ll be the beds, the bedding, the pots and pans, everything that you can see around you.’
Dai Roberts pushed his cap back and scratched his head. ‘Big risk you’re asking me to take.’ He held out his hand for the door key. ‘I’ll be round long before first light so make sure you’re gone by then, understand?’
‘The money first,’ Wynne demanded, holding on to the key.
‘I think you should give us the amount you first offered because now you are getting so much more; even the zinc bathtub and the big wooden mangle, if you want them,’ Fern chipped in.
‘You’ve got a lot of lip for one so young,’ he told her sourly.
He delved in his pocket and brought out a handful of silver and carefully counted it out on the table. Fern watched, counting every coin with him.
When he began to put some that was still in his hand back in his pocket, she stopped him. ‘You said more than that, a lot more. Don’t forget you are getting everything,’ she reminded him.
Dai Roberts hesitated, shaking his head. Then with a chortle he put the money that was still in his hand down on the table. ‘You deserve it, my lovely,’ he told Fern. ‘I like your spirit and the way you’ve stuck up for your mam. Good luck to the pair of you, wherever you’re going.’
Before either of them could say anything he had taken the key and was gone. Fern and her mother stared at the pile of silver on the table and then Fern began putting it into piles, counting it out loud as she did so.
‘There’s nine pounds and threepence here,’ she exclaimed, her eyes round with wonder. She counted it carefully again. ‘It’s a small fortune, Mam.’
‘Well, it will certainly help us out over the next week or so,’ her mother agreed. She handed Fern a big black leather purse. ‘Put it all in here and I’ll hide it away safely. I’ve got the money for our train fare and a few shillings more in another purse and I’ll put that one in my pocket. And we’ll pack some of the smaller bits that I intended to take to the pawnbrokers. We don’t want anyone seeing us with that lot; not a word to your uncle about it, mind.’
‘So do you mean we are still going to try and find Uncle Bryson when we get to Cardiff and ask him if we can stay with him?’ Fern asked in surprise. ‘I thought that now we had some money you wouldn’t want to do that.’
‘I’ve given it a lot of thought and I think it would be the best thing to do – for a little while, anyway. We’ve never been to Cardiff before so we know nothing about the place and it will give us a chance to get our bearings,’ her mother explained.
‘You mean that you think he might be able to help us to find somewhere to live?’ Fern asked hopefully.
‘Possibly, but we’ll worry about that when we get there. Come on, get your coat on and we’ll be off.’
‘Now? Tonight! I thought we weren’t going until first thing in the morning?’
‘I want to be out of this place before that Dai Roberts comes back to take the furniture,’ her mother told her sharply. ‘Knowing him, he’ll be here so damn early tomorrow morning that if we go to bed, he’ll be in the house before we have a chance to be up and dressed, let alone have any breakfast.’
‘If we leave now, it will be almost midnight by the time we get to Cardiff,’ Fern protested.
‘It certainly will be the way you are dawdling,’ her mother scolded. ‘Now come on, Fern, pull yourself together and let’s get goi
ng. It’s as good a time as any, if we don’t want folks knowing what we’re up to. At this time in the evening most of the women will be indoors putting the kiddies to bed.’
‘I suppose so, and the men won’t yet be setting out for their night shift,’ Fern agreed.
‘Right. Now you carry one of the suitcases and I’ll carry the other one as well as the bundle and let’s get going,’ Wynne said briskly as she took a last look around.
There wasn’t time for recriminations or sadness as they left their home. As Wynne pulled the front door closed for the last time she pulled back her shoulders, picked up the case and bundle, and set off so briskly that Fern had a job to keep up with her.
They reached the railway station with only minutes to spare before the last train left for Cardiff. As they settled into their seats on opposite sides of an almost empty carriage they were both too breathless to even talk to each other.
Going on the train was such a momentous adventure that at any other time Fern was sure she would have enjoyed it. Now, though, she felt far too unhappy about leaving the home where she’d grown up and the friends she’d known all her life. Instead of sitting back and relaxing she sat bolt upright, staring out apprehensively at the dark world outside the carriage window.
As the train pulled out of the station Fern saw her mother surreptitiously wipe away a tear from the corner of her eye but she thought it was better to say nothing.
Fern suspected that having to leave their home in Blaenafon was an even greater wrench for her mother than it was for her but the die had been cast and there was no turning back. They no longer had a home there and her mother was far too proud to ask any of the neighbours to take them in even for a few days.
Fern felt confused about what lay ahead and their new life in Cardiff. It was such a big city and completely unknown to them both and although she was excited she was also fearful about what they might encounter.
It was very late when they arrived at Cardiff General and the few people who’d been on the train handed in their tickets and hurried through the barrier, obviously anxious to get home or wherever it was they were going.
As they handed in their tickets, Wynne hesitated as if she didn’t know what to do next.
‘Do you know where Angelina Street is? I believe it’s somewhere off Bute Street, can you tell me how to get there? Is it too far for us to walk?’
‘Bute Street!’ The ticket collector’s voice rose in surprise. ‘That’s Tiger Bay, I wouldn’t want to walk down there in broad daylight, let alone at this time of night,’ he said, shaking his head.
Wynne frowned. ‘Why ever not?’
‘It has a terrible reputation, missus; surely you know that? What d’yer want to go there for?’
‘Is it very far?’ Wynne persisted, ignoring his question even though his warning struck a chord of fear in her.
‘If you hurry you might catch a tram, some of them run as far as the Pier Head right up until midnight,’ he said dourly. ‘The tram stop is just outside the station, you’ll find it easily enough.’
‘Let’s hope that somebody will be able to tell us where we have to get off,’ Wynne said worriedly as they boarded the tram and it clanged its way down Bute Street.
‘Going visiting at this time of night!’ the conductor commented in surprise as he took the money for their fares from Wynne. ‘Come far, have you?’ he went on, indicating their luggage as he punched two tickets and handed them to her.
‘We’re going to visit my family in Angelina Street so will you let us know where to get off?’ Wynne said stiffly.
‘Oh, I see! First visit, is it, and that’s why you don’t know where to get off. What a pity they couldn’t get along to the station to meet you. I wouldn’t fancy having to walk down any of the side streets off Bute Street, not this time of night.’
‘If you would be kind enough to let us know when we reach our stop then I’d be very grateful,’ Wynne told him primly as she took the tickets from him.
‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ll sing out. You know which way to go when you get off, do you?’
‘No, but I expect we’ll find it,’ Fern piped up, noticing that her mother was getting more and more tight-lipped as the questioning went on. ‘If not, we can always ask someone.’
The conductor shook his head and made a long face. ‘I wouldn’t do that, cariad, not if I was you,’ he said in a warning voice. ‘It’s easy to see that neither of you know anything about the sort of place Tiger Bay is. It’s not so bad in daylight, but after dark, once you leave the main road, it’s very different, my lovely.’
‘Thank you for your concern, but I’m sure we will be quite all right,’ Wynne said stiffly.
Fern felt relieved when he shrugged and moved away to collect the fares from other people on the tram, but as he walked back to take up his position by the door he renewed his promise to let them know in good time when they were to get off.
When he did alert them that they were at the nearest stop he took so long explaining which way they should go that the other passengers began complaining loudly about the delay.
As the tram pulled away he was still on the step waving his arms and shouting out instructions. They waited until the tram had disappeared before they picked up their luggage and set off in the direction he’d indicated.
It was a cold night and as they crossed the road towards the side street he’d indicated, they were suddenly plunged into darkness.
‘What on earth has happened?’ Fern exclaimed in alarm, dropping her suitcase on to the pavement.
‘Didn’t you see the lamplighter going down the road in front of us?’ Wynne asked.
‘I didn’t think they put them out until midnight.’
‘They don’t, so it probably is midnight. It was late in the evening when we left Blaenafon and I’ve no idea how long the journey took, but it seemed endless.’
‘Come on, pick up the case, there’s no point in hanging about grumbling. Bryson will probably do enough of that when we knock on his door. I don’t imagine he’ll be any too pleased at having to take us in, especially at this time of night.’
‘He’s probably in bed and asleep by now,’ Fern said worriedly. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘we still don’t know where Angelina Street is; we’re not there yet, are we, Mam?’
‘No, I think we’re still in Maria Street,’ Wynne agreed, ‘because, according to what the tram conductor told us, we have to go right to the very bottom of this road and then turn left and then we’ll be in Angelina Street. After that it will be easy; the house we want will be only a few doors along.’
‘How are we ever going to find the right one now the street lights are out?’ Fern asked worriedly as they neared the end of the road. ‘It’s much too dark to see the numbers on any of the doors.’
‘Then we’ll have to count them as we go along,’ Wynne told her. ‘If the first house is number one, then his house will be the ninth one along the street.’
‘Uncle Bryson lives at number seventeen Angelina Street, not number nine, Mam!’
‘I know that but the odd numbers will be down one side of the road and the even numbers down the other side,’ her mother pointed out.
‘It wasn’t like that at home; the numbers went one, two, three and so on,’ Fern argued.
‘That’s because we lived in a terrace and there were no houses opposite,’ Wynne reminded her. ‘We’re in a big city now, Fern. You’re going to find a lot of things different here from what you were used to in Blaenafon.’
‘I suppose so, and I expect that having to live with Uncle Bryson will be one of them,’ Fern agreed apprehensively as they found the house and banged on the door.
Chapter Five
They waited on the pavement for such a long time that they were on the point of walking away when Fern looked up and saw that there was a dim light shining from the front bedroom window. As she stared up at it she was sure she saw the curtains twitch.
They banged on the door again to
make sure that whoever was awake didn’t simply go back to sleep but knew that there was someone outside. A minute or so later the door opened and a dark-haired, wiry man stood there holding a lighted candle in one hand and glaring at them as though angry at being disturbed. Fern’s heart thundered. It was her uncle Bryson.
For a moment she thought he hadn’t recognised them but when she said, ‘Hello, Uncle Bryson’, the look of triumph on his face hit her like a hammer blow.
‘So you’ve turned up after all, just as I expected,’ he said in a derisory tone, ignoring Fern and addressing his remark to Wynne. ‘The pit owner turned you out into the street, did he?’
‘Are you going to ask us in or are we going to stand out here all night?’ Wynne countered.
‘Since you obviously have nowhere else to go you’d best come in,’ he told her as he opened the door wider and stood to one side to let them pass into the hallway.
Fern wrinkled her nose at the dank, musty smell as they edged past him with their bag and suitcases. As Bryson slammed the front door shut a voice from upstairs called down asking who the hell was banging on the door and what did he think he was doing letting them in at this time of night.
‘Take no notice,’ he muttered as he led the way along the passage towards the back of the house.
As they made to follow him a figure appeared on the landing above and both Wynne and Fern gasped in disbelief as a huge coloured woman wrapped in a bright multi-patterned cotton dressing gown lumbered down the stairs towards them.
‘This is Bertha,’ Bryson told them as they all went into the back room. He placed the candle he was still carrying down on a saucer in the centre of the wooden table. Turning away and picking up the poker that was lying on the brass fender, he began to stir the glowing embers in the kitchen range back to life before ramming the iron kettle down on to the middle of them.
‘Get moving and put some cups on the table, then, Bertha, and make us all a hot drink,’ he ordered.
