Pontypridd 01 - Hearts of Gold

by Catrin Collier

She could smell the dust, the odour of his perspiration mingling with his cologne, the aroma of wine wafting from the open bottle standing on the floor next to the sofa. He ground his cigarette to dust in the ash tray before kissing her again.

  ‘Do you think you could trust me enough to pick up where we left off?’ he asked softly.

  Her eyes were huge liquid, almost luminous pools in the gathering dusk. She lifted her hands to the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his. Without his braces his shirt worked loose from the waistband of his trousers. Shyly, hesitantly she pushed it aside, running the palms of her hands over his naked back. He stripped off his collar and pulled his shirt off over his head. His skin was unbelievably white and smooth, smoother than the silk of the shirt he had thrown to the floor.

  Moving his hand he slipped the buttons of her bodice from their loops. Excited, and more than a little afraid, she dug her nails into his back, but this time she didn’t try to stop him undressing her. Gently, very gently, he pulled her dress and chemise down over her shoulders exposing her breasts. Her cheeks burnt crimson as his fingers teased her nipples.

  ‘You’re beautiful, Bethan,’ he murmured thickly staring at her.

  ‘I love you, Andrew.’ She lay back and closed her eyes, trying to forget her mother’s warnings, the events of the morning, everything except his declaration of love and the feel of his hands on her skin as he caressed her.

  Slowly, gradually she warmed to his touch, relaxing enough to allow his sensuous stroking to hold sway over both her body and her mind. And even when his hands were supplanted by his lips she made no effort to stop him. He loved her. Really loved her and she him. What could possibly be sinful about that?

  ‘Bethan. It’s Easter Monday,’ William complained as she walked through Megan’s front door at eight o’clock in the morning. He turned his back and hitched the cord of his pyjama trousers higher concealing a bruise he’d got, courtesy of Glan. His only consolation was that Glan had more and blacker ones. ‘Don’t they sleep in your house?’ he moaned.

  ‘Not during the day.’ Ignoring his state of undress she pushed past him into the kitchen.

  Megan was outside unpegging the salt fish that she’d soaked and hung out the night before.

  ‘Just in time for breakfast, love.’ She bustled in with an enamel bowl full.

  ‘I’ve had mine, thanks, Auntie.’

  ‘But you’ll have a cup of tea.’

  ‘Love one. I called in to see if you’ve anything new.’

  ‘Had some smart two-pieces in on Saturday night. Specials. One’s your size, lovely dark green linen. And there’s a nice cream silk blouse that will match it to a T. Are you in a hurry?’

  ‘Not so much that I couldn’t murder a cuppa,’ Bethan pulled one of the kitchen chairs out from under the table and sat down.

  ‘Not meeting him early then today?’ Megan said archly.

  Bethan coloured, ‘Not till eleven o’clock.’

  ‘When are we going to get a chance to see this young man of yours then?’

  ‘Some time.’

  ‘Soon I hope. I want to give him the once over. Make sure he’s the right one for you.’

  ‘He’s the right one for her,’ William called out as he walked through the kitchen on his way to the outside privy. ‘Doctor who’s not short of a few bob to put a nice bit of stuff on his back, or on his arm, eh Beth.’ He winked at her as he ducked out of the washhouse door, still bare to the waist, his pyjama top flapping in the breeze.

  ‘Take no notice of him, love; he can’t bear the thought of anyone having money when he’s got none.’ Megan took two cups and saucers from the dresser and set them on the table. Removing the tea pot, she felt the side before pouring it. ‘I’ll make some fresh in a minute but this will do to be getting on with.’ She spooned a generous helping of fat from her dripping bowl into the cast iron frying pan on the range. ‘By the way, I’ve something else in that might interest you.’

  ‘I think I’ll settle for the suit. I’ve got to start saving …’

  ‘Why bother, love? If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years it’s that the rainy days are always here and now. Besides,’ Megan swirled the melting fat in the pan, ‘you’re only young once. Look as pretty as you can while you can. That’s my motto.’

  ‘I’ve nothing to show for my pay rise.’

  ‘You’ve a wardrobe full of clothes and God knows you needed them.’ Megan tipped the fish into the pan. ‘And the something’s not intended for you. I’ve two men’s suits upstairs. One’s your Eddie’s size and one your Haydn’s. They’re brand spanking new.

  ‘Six bob each.’

  ‘Six bob! Wilf Horton’s are ten and they’re second hand.’

  ‘Specials,’ Megan said airily.

  ‘Specials out the back door of the tailor’s warehouse?’ Bethan asked suspiciously.

  ‘Nothing like that.’

  ‘We don’t need handouts.’

  ‘Even if you did I haven’t any to give. Six bob includes my profit. When you’ve drunk your tea take a look at them.’ Megan turned the fish over carefully. ‘They’re in a brown paper sack in my bedroom behind the dressing table. The women’s suits are on top of the wardrobe.’

  Bethan carried her empty cup into the washhouse bumping into William, who was washing under the cold tap.

  ‘Comes to something when a man can’t strip off in his own house,’ William complained.

  ‘Man! It’s not that long ago I helped your Mam bath you in that sink,’ Bethan retorted.

  ‘I can vouch for that,’ Megan joined in from the kitchen. ‘Will, when you’ve finished messing out there, take Bethan upstairs and show her where I keep the men’s suits.’

  ‘No peace for the wicked.’

  ‘Breakfast!’ Megan yelled in a voice loud enough to carry halfway down the street. Charlie came in from the garden where he’d been cleaning his shoes. He nodded in reply to Bethan’s quiet “hello” as he waited patiently for William to finish at the sink.

  Bethan returned to the kitchen, where Diana and Sam, washed and dressed, were already sitting at the table helping themselves to fish and the bread that Megan was cutting and buttering at a rate of knots.

  ‘No breakfast for you, young man, until you dress,’ Megan said sharply as William walked in.

  ‘Nag nag nag.’ William planted a smacking kiss on Megan’s cheek. ‘She loves me really,’ he grinned at Bethan.

  ‘Do I now?’ Megan asked.

  William led the way upstairs, lifting out the sack of men’s suits from behind Megan’s dressing table before disappearing into his box room. Bethan looked around. She could barely move for piles of boxes and cardboard suitcases. Placing the sack on the home made patchwork quilt that covered the bed, she opened it. It held two suits. A navy-blue, shot with a fine grey pin-stripe, and a plain mid-grey flannel. Both had waistcoats complete with watch pockets but the grey flannel was shorter in the leg than the pin-stripe so she presumed that was the one Megan intended for Eddie. She felt the cloth between her fingers. It was good lightweight wool although she didn’t know much about men’s clothes she could recognise quality when she saw it.

  ‘Smart, eh?’ William walked in behind her, his braces dangling down over his trousers his fingers busy as they tried to push his collar through the studs in the neck of his shirt.

  ‘Here, let me.’ Bethan knocked his hands aside and took over.

  ‘Ow! Your nails are long.’ He rubbed his chin ruefully. ‘Doctor into vicious women is he?’

  ‘Lay off.’

  ‘Lay off what?’ he enquired innocently.

  ‘You know what.’

  ‘If I did I wouldn’t ask.’

  ‘What do you think of these?’ she asked.

  ‘The suits?’

  ‘What else?’ she snapped irritably. ‘There are times when I could brain you, William Powell.’

  ‘Promises, promises,’ he sighed. ‘But going back to the suits.’ He picked up the grey one.
‘I liked them enough to buy two off Mam with the money I earned on the stalls last week.’

  ‘Then they’ll be all right for our Haydn and Eddie?’

  ‘I should cocoa. Here –’ he lifted one of the largest cardboard suitcases on to the bed and opened it. ‘Shirts, ties and socks, everything a young man about town could want to go with his new suit, and,’ he sidled up to her, ‘for you, madam, very cheap.’

  ‘When you’ve finished practising your sales patter, find me a shirt and tie to go with each of these. The socks I can manage myself.’

  ‘What size is Eddie?’

  ‘Sixteen.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have said he was a bull neck.’

  ‘It’s got worse since he started going down the gym.’

  ‘Haydn?’

  ‘Sixteen and a half.’

  ‘Two white linen shirts, four collars to match, one set sixteen, the other sixteen and a half, half a crown the lot and studs thrown in for free. You can’t do better than that.’ ‘You should be on the market full time instead of down the pit three days a week.’

  ‘I’m working on it. Socks,’ He tossed her a bundle. ‘Pure wool and only four pence a pair. How many would madam like?’

  ‘Four pairs,’ she pulled out two pairs of grey and two of navy.

  ‘Ties …’ he looked thoughtfully at the suits laid out on the bed, ‘what do you think? This red and blue stripe for the grey, the plain grey for the pin stripe. He held them up.

  ‘Looks good to me.’ She piled them on top of the shirts and socks.

  ‘Then I take it that Madam is satisfied.’ He left the bedroom and picked up his waistcoat and jacket from the bannisters.

  ‘Now look at you,’ she teased. ‘All done up like a dog’s dinner.’

  ‘Easter Rattle Fair.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Never know what a fellow like me might find down there.’

  ‘Stalls to put up?’

  ‘You don’t think I’d wear this,’ he shrugged his waistcoat over his shoulders, ‘to put up stalls do you? Besides, I did that last night. We didn’t finish till four, that’s why I slept in.’

  ‘Haydn and Eddie with you?’

  ‘And your father.’

  ‘So that’s why none of them stirred this morning.’

  ‘What time did cashmere coat bring you home last night?’ he asked pointedly. ‘It must have been late. We didn’t walk down the Graig hill until eleven.’

  ‘Late,’ she replied succinctly.

  ‘Be careful with that one, Beth.’ he warned, dropping his bantering tone. ‘He’s crache.’

  ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘I’m serious. Wouldn’t want to see you get hurt by the idle rich.’

  ‘He’s hardly idle, he’s a doctor.’

  ‘He seems to have all the time in the world to run around in that car of his.’

  ‘You look after your concerns, I’ll look after mine,’ she snapped.

  ‘Speaking of my concerns,’ he slipped his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, ‘you and Laura going to the fair?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered warily, wondering what was coming next.

  ‘Anyone going with you?’

  ‘No one you’d be interested in.’

  ‘I was wondering if any of Laura’s sisters were going?’

  ‘Like Tina for instance?’ she asked shrewdly.

  Tina was six months younger than William. They’d gone to school together and become far too friendly for Laura’s father and Ronnie’s peace of mind. So much so, that Signor Ronconi had expressly forbidden Tina to talk to William when her brothers weren’t around.

  ‘Maybe,’ he murmured casually.

  ‘And you say you’re worried about me getting hurt. You’re on a hiding to nothing there, William Powell.’

  ‘You know something I don’t?’

  ‘I know that nice Catholic girls don’t go out with chapel boys.’

  ‘Then I’ll become a Catholic,’ he said brightly.

  ‘Uncle John Joseph would stone you down the Graig hill let alone out of chapel if he heard you say that.’

  ‘He’s not my uncle, thank the Lord,’ William said irreverently. ‘And after yesterday’s uplifting experience I’m looking for a new place to spend my Sundays. I think I just might take a walk down Broadway to see what Father O’Rourke has to offer.’

  ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

  ‘Put a good word in for me with Tina, Beth, and I’ll stop annoying cashmere coat.’

  ‘You’re serious aren’t you?’

  ‘You serious about cashmere coat?’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I’m older …’

  ‘Ho ho ho. Age has nothing to do with it, Granny. Bet you a pound that I catch Tina before you catch cashmere coat.’

  ‘Will you stop calling him that?’

  ‘I will, if you promise to talk to Tina.’

  ‘Like marries like, Will,’ she warned. ‘The Ronconi girls are all earmarked for nice Italian boys.’

  ‘I can be a nice Italian boy. Wanna hear me talk?’ he asked imitating Laura’s father’s accent.

  ‘I’m being serious.’

  ‘So am I.’ He picked up the bundle of clothes from the bed. ‘I know I can be a nice Italian boy, Beth. But be honest. Can you see yourself running a ladies’ committee for the “Miners’ Children’s Boot Fund” in a house on the Common?’

  Before she had a chance to answer he turned his back on her and carried the clothes downstairs. There was no need for her to mull over what he’d said. Andrew’s declaration that he loved her had sent the same thoughts worming through her mind like maggots in a rotten apple. All William had succeeded in doing was stirring the whole mess up.

  Chapter Ten

  After William clattered downstairs Bethan picked up the box from the top of the wardrobe. Inside were two ladies’ costumes, one bottle green coarse linen, the other light blue wool. Both were styled along the same lines, with close fitting jackets and long, narrow skirts. Closing the bedroom door she tried on the green linen. Skilfully cut, fully lined in silk, it might have been tailored for her. She turned around slowly in front of the dressing table mirror whilst doing some rapid calculations in her head.

  The boys’ clothes came to fifteen shillings and ten pence. Even allowing for Megan’s prices the costume would be at least another ten shillings. Twenty five shillings and ten pence, and she barely had fifteen shillings in her purse to last her until pay day … and she really needed a hat.

  ‘Mam sent me up to see if you needed help.’ Diana walked in, still chewing a mouthful of bread and butter. ‘Ooh that does look good on you. It’s only seven and six too.’

  ‘How does your mother manage to keep her prices down?’

  ‘He who asks no questions gets told no lies.’

  ‘I really need a hat to go with it,’ Bethan murmured more to herself than Diana.

  ‘They’re over here.’ Diana produced a hat box from under the bed. Lifting out one hat after another she shook a plain black felt with a small brim from the pile. ‘This looks good and it will go with practically anything.’

  ‘It will, won’t it,’ Bethan agreed, perching it on the front of her head.

  ‘And, it’s only two bob, making nine and six in total, and here’s the silk blouse Mam was talking about.’ She produced yet another package from under the bed and handed Bethan a blouse. ‘Pure silk, hand-embroidered collar and only nine pence.’

  Bethan fingered the silk. It felt cool, luxurious. The kind of blouse the crache would wear. If she didn’t get it now, at this price, she never would. She was earning good money. If she didn’t buy any more for a while … the excuses whirled around her head as she wrestled with her conscience. Finally she decided, she took the hat from her head and unbuttoned the jacket.

  ‘Keeping it then?’ Diana asked.

  ‘We’ll see.’ She folded the costume carefully and laid the hat and blouse on top of it
before slipping her dress back on. When she turned round Diana had already replaced the hat box under the bed. She helped tidy away the shirts, ties and socks while Diana packed away the blue costume. Then both of them lifted the suitcase off the bed, smoothed over the counterpane and checked the room before going downstairs.

  ‘All right, love?’ Megan was clearing the table when Bethan and Diana returned to the kitchen. Charlie and Sam were sitting like a pair of bookends in the easy chairs either side of the fire, but William was still eating.

  ‘I think so,’ Bethan replied doubtfully, still trying to work out what her “tab” stood at.

  ‘You out to give your boys a good Easter treat?’ Megan nodded at the clothes that William had heaped on the dresser.

  ‘And myself if I can run to it,’ Bethan said wryly, holding up the hat, blouse and costume.

  ‘Nine shillings for the three. And with the discount on the boys’ stuff we’ll call it twenty-five bob.’

  ‘I make it more than that,’ Bethan insisted.

  ‘I make my profit. Besides, customers like you save me a lot. You buying in bulk means I’ve less stock sitting around gathering dust and losing money.’ Megan pulled a black card-covered exercise book out of the drawer in her dresser.

  ‘I owe you three pounds at the moment.’

  ‘Two pounds ten, love, you paid me ten bob last week, and with today’s little lot it comes to …’ Megan scribbled a few figures in the margin of her book and bit her bottom lip in concentration.

  ‘Three pounds five shillings,’ Bethan interrupted.

  ‘Spot on, love,’ Megan agreed.

  ‘I can give you ten bob now …’

  ‘Don’t you go leaving yourself short. Not on Rattle Fair day.’

  ‘She doesn’t need money. She’s got her fancy man to treat her,’ William winked as he ate his breakfast.

  Bethan glared at him and he burped loudly.

  ‘Piggylope,’ Diana remonstrated from the scullery where she was rinsing dishes in the stone sink.

  ‘William picked up his plate and carried it out. ‘Miss starched knickers,’ he whispered into Diana’s ear.

  ‘Mam! William said a naughty word,’ Diana protested.

  ‘Here’s the ten bob.’ Bethan took advantage of the altercation between her cousins to push the note on to Megan.