‘Why not? We do.’
‘I suppose we do. How did we get on to this subject in the first place?’
‘You were telling me about the dinner Ronnie organised and your father …’
‘That’s right, Papa,’ she mused thoughtfully. Her expression changed completely. ‘Beth, you wouldn’t believe what he did when I told him about Trevor on Friday night! Doolaly Tap wasn’t the word for it. And, as soon as he started performing everyone ran and hid except Mama and Ronnie. Mama wanted to, but I stood in front of the kitchen door and wouldn’t move, leaving her with the choice of either staying or sitting in the washhouse. Nothing would have budged our Ronnie of course. He loves Papa’s tempers – when he’s not on the receiving end of them, that is,’ she added bitterly.
‘Have you warned Trevor what he’s walking into today?’
‘I didn’t dare. He’d never have agreed to come if I had. Besides, Papa did eventually calm down, a little,’ she qualified. ‘At least he went from raving lunacy to ordinary temper when I told him Trevor was a doctor. Ronnie was no help. The only comment he made in Trevor’s favour was that an Irish Catholic doctor was better than a Protestant Welsh miner, but only just. Then Papa turned on Mama and blamed her for talking him out of sending me to my grandmother in Italy, as he wanted to when I was sixteen. When Mama pointed out that I was a qualified nurse, he said he’d rather have a decent married Italian housewife for a daughter.’
‘Sounds fun,’ Bethan said ironically.
‘Oh it was. Papa finished off by screaming up the stairs at my sisters. He swore blind that he won’t let any of them out of his sight until they reach sixteen and then he’s packing each of them off to Italy in turn. That makes Tina overdue for the journey. I don’t think she’s recovered from the shock yet. Not that she’s talked to me about it. I’ve been sent to Coventry for making Papa angry in the first place.’
‘Does your father mean it?’
‘You know Papa. At the moment he does.’
‘Poor William,’ Bethan said feelingly.
‘He’s still sweet on Tina?’
‘Isn’t Tina still sweet on him?’
‘I’ve just told you, she’s not talking to me. Oh Beth, I’m so worried. What if Papa hates Trevor on sight? It was as much as Mama could do to persuade him to let Trevor come to dinner in the cafe today.’
‘I don’t know whether I should thank or kick you for inviting Andrew and me.’
‘Don’t you see, I need you and Andrew there? Papa’s always liked you, and Andrew can charm the birds off the trees when he wants to. And with you two sitting at the table I don’t think Papa’ll dare make a scene. At least that’s the plan. And as he can’t very well ignore someone who’s eating with us he’s going to have to talk to Trevor, and when he does he’s bound to see how wonderful he is.’
‘And if he doesn’t?’ Bethan probed.
‘I’ll have to elope. I’m old enough.’
‘Elope as in get married?’
‘Of course. What do you think we’ve been talking about for the last half-hour? Trevor asked me to marry him on Friday evening after work. We’ve nothing to wait for except more money, and we can save as well when we’re married as we can now.’
‘You’ll have to give up nursing.’
‘That won’t matter, I never really saw myself as the Florence Nightingale type. Besides I spend every penny I earn on clothes, and thanks to Megan my wardrobe should last me until Trevor gets a better paid post. He earns four pounds a week now,’ she said proudly. ‘Another two years should make it six, and although we haven’t enough money to buy a house straight off we certainly have enough to rent one. Glan says there’s one going in Graig Street for ten bob a week and we shouldn’t spend more than a pound a week housekeeping, so with luck we’ll manage to save the deposit for a decent place of our own within a year. Maybe even a house on the Common.’
‘Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,’ Bethan murmured wistfully. While Laura had been talking, her mind had painted a picture of the terraced houses in Maritime Street, or rather one in particular. Newly decorated and papered, tastefully furnished.
And her caring for it; cooking delicious meals in the kitchen while she waited for Andrew to return from the hospital in the evening. Suddenly it all seemed so very attractive and Laura had it within her grasp.
‘Neither Trevor nor I have saved a bean,’ Laura prattled on, ‘me because … well you know where my money goes, and Trevor’s been supporting his mother and his brother and sisters. But I’m sure we’ll be able to scavenge everything we need, and what we don’t need we’ll do without. Once his sisters and brother are settled his mother can move in with us. She’s so sweet, Beth. And she really likes the idea of Trevor marrying me.’
‘You’ve met her?’
‘On Saturday. I was dying to tell you all about it in work yesterday but you had to be off, didn’t you. I know we won’t quite have the start you and Andrew will have. His father will probably buy you a mansion on the Common …’ She stared at Bethan. ‘Don’t tell me you and Andrew haven’t even talked about marriage?’
‘We’re just good friends.’ Bethan repeated the trite phrase without even thinking what she was saying.
‘Just good friends, my eye. The man’s besotted. God, you’re either a cold fish or a slow worker, Bethan Powell. I thought you’d have chosen the ring pattern by now.’
‘Ring pattern?’ Bethan repeated blankly.
‘Engagement ring,’ Laura explained impatiently. ‘Trevor and I are going to choose one in Cardiff on my next day off. Oh God there he is!’ Laura muttered, catching sight of Andrew and Trevor, cigarettes in hand, waiting outside the cafe door.
‘Do you think they’ve already knocked and your father wouldn’t let them in?’
‘Don’t tease, Beth, I’m not in the mood for it. What’s the time?’
Bethan opened her hand bag and looked at the nurse’s watch that she’d pinned inside the flap. ‘Nearly half-past eleven.’
‘Dinner won’t be until twelve. Back me up if I suggest a stroll round the town.’
‘Hello, darling,’ Andrew winked at Bethan, before turning to Laura. ‘What have you done to this fellow?’ he demanded mischievously. ‘He’s an absolute wreck.’
‘I think we should go for a walk around the town and see what’s going on,’ Laura suggested loudly.
‘Not on your life.’ Andrew pushed a large cardboard box towards Trevor with his toe. ‘For one thing your brother’s already seen us, and for another, Trevor couldn’t carry this another step.’
‘What is it?’ Laura asked.
‘A case of decent wine to sweeten your father,’ he grinned. ‘If a quarter of what I’ve heard about Italian fathers is true, we’re going to need every drop.’
The warm Italian welcome that the Ronconis extended to Bethan was as cordial as usual. It even embraced Andrew but it stopped short of Trevor. A German spy captured during the Great War couldn’t have been put through a more intense interrogation than the one Papa Ronconi subjected him to. Half a dozen of the café tables had been pushed together in the centre of the room and covered over with Mrs Ronconi’s biggest damask tablecloth.
Gleaming like freshly-cut coconut, it was graced by the family’s best silver and china that had been specially brought down for the occasion in the back of Ronnie’s Trojan van the night before.
Unable to sit alongside Trevor and listen to what her father was saying, Laura donned an apron and busied herself, cleaning the tables and straightening the chairs that Ronnie’s waitresses had cleaned and straightened the night before.
Bethan hid in the kitchen with Mrs Ronconi and Laura’s sisters. But when the soup thickened and the chickens turned a dark brown at their extremities Laura’s mother had no choice but to begin serving the meal. She laid the tureen proudly in the centre of the table, and Ronnie opened one of the bottles of wine that Trevor had presented to Laura’s father. Bethan recognised the label. The bottles
were from Andrew’s father’s cellar, the same vintage that Andrew took on their picnics.
The meal wasn’t as bad as Laura had expected. Thanks to Andrew there were no embarrassing silences. He excelled himself. One amusing story followed another, and he took every opportunity to present Trevor in a good light. He deferred to Trevor’s judgement on all things from politics to current medical advances. Not forgetting to sketch in glowing colours the brilliant career that every doctor of note in the area confidently predicted for Trevor.
And when he wasn’t praising Trevor or the cooking, or the Signor Ronconis’ (father and son) business acumen, he was complimenting Laura’s mother on her children or smiling and joking with Laura’s sisters until all of them, even Tina, fell madly in love with him.
After the apple pie and ice cream had been cleared away he even succeeded in winning Ronnie over by producing a bottle of Napoleon brandy to complement the cigars that Trevor handed round. Bethan studied them as Andrew clipped off the ends, noting that they too were the brand that Dr John senior smoked.
Following the example of the women of the family Bethan gulped her coffee and rose to help clear the table, but Andrew forestalled her.
‘That was a wonderful meal,’ he thanked Mrs Ronconi effusively. ‘And we’d love to stay longer, but unfortunately I promised my parents that we’d pick up my sister and her husband from the station at one-thirty. They’re coming in on the London train. Please forgive me for cutting such a pleasant time short and having to take Bethan with me.’
‘We understand the value of family promises,’ Laura’s father said ambiguously, as he struggled to his feet. His vast stomach shook in unison with his arm as he pumped Andrew’s hand enthusiastically. ‘Good of you to join us. You will come again.’
‘I hope next time it will be our turn to play host,’ Andrew said with a significant look at Trevor. ‘Thank you so much for inviting us, Mrs Ronconi. Ronnie, nice to see you again. Tina …’ he went around the table shaking hands, and kissing blushing cheeks. ‘See you later, Trevor, Laura.’
If looks could have killed, Laura would have slain Bethan there and then. Andrew waited impatiently as Bethan untied her apron and fixed her hat on; securing it with the neat pearl headed hat pin that had been part of her inheritance from her grandmother.
Then he ushered her smartly out of the front door before she even had time to say her goodbyes properly.
‘We’re not really meeting your sister are we?’ she asked as the door clanged shut behind them.
‘Of course.’
‘Andrew! Not now! I look dreadful.’
‘For pity’s sake, she’s my sister not the Queen. Come on, we’ve barely ten minutes before the train comes in.’
The two glasses of wine she’d drunk with the meal swam fuzzily in her head as she marched briskly alongside Andrew, or at least as briskly as the fair paraphernalia would allow, towards the station. Andrew bought platform tickets in the ground floor office and raced up the wide stone staircase that led to the trains.
Bethan tried to keep up and failed. He waited for her by the ticket collector’s booth.
‘Unfit, Nurse Powell?’
‘After a meal like that, yes,’ she panted.
‘It was rather good wasn’t it?’ he agreed. He handed the tickets to the uniformed official. ‘London train?’ he enquired.
‘Platform two. Due in three minutes, sir.’
‘I love the certainty of railway staff,’ he whispered as he took hold of her elbow and ushered her down the platform.
‘I wish you’d given me some warning about this,’ she pleaded. ‘I must look dreadful.’ She rummaged in her handbag for her powder puff.
‘You look beautiful. Here –’ He took a clean handkerchief out of his top pocket and wiped a smut from her chin. She glanced down her nose trying to see if there were any grease stains on her costume from the cafe kitchen.
‘You look absolutely perfect,’ he grinned. ‘Come here, woman.’ He wrapped his arms around her. ‘You know, the best thing about railway stations is that people turn a blind eye to things that they’d “tutˮ at in the park. I don’t know why we haven’t thought of coming here before.’
Bending his head to hers, he gave her a long, lingering kiss.
‘Now you to have to reapply your lipstick,’ he laughed as he released her.
‘Thank you very much, Dr John,’ she said peevishly. Suddenly weak at the knees, she looked at the benches, saw the dirt on them and decided against sitting down.
‘How was Laura this morning?’ Andrew asked, staring up the line in the direction the train would come in. ‘Frankly, there were times when I wondered if Trevor would make it to the car in one piece.’
‘I’ve never seen her so nervous,’ she mumbled as she dabbed lipstick on her mouth. ‘Did you know that Trevor had asked her to marry him?’
‘He told me when he came round on Friday night, late. Or should I say early Saturday morning.’
‘You didn’t say anything to me yesterday.’
‘Laura warned Trevor against saying anything. She wanted to tell you about it herself so I could hardly pass on information that I wasn’t supposed to know. Look here’s the train. Three minutes to the dot.’ He checked his watch. ‘I take my hat off to Great Western. For once they’re spot on time.’
Chapter Eleven
Laura wasn’t the only one in town who was nervous that day. At two o’clock Eddie entered Captain Dekker’s boxing booth flanked by his trainer Joey, and Haydn. The bravado that had sustained him at home fled in the face of the large crowd pressed tightly around the roped-off makeshift ring.
‘You’ll be fine, boyo. Don’t think about them, just pretend you’re in the gym.’ Joey, who knew exactly what Eddie was feeling, slapped him soundly on the back. Eddie looked coldly at the old man and for the first time saw him as he really was. Teeth missing, nose broken and pushed sideways, jaw broken and badly set, eyes bloodshot, sunk into a prematurely aged and wrinkled face. He’d told everyone he was the one who’d make it. World champion!
But Joey had once believed in his own ability every bit as much as Eddie believed in himself now. And you only had to look around the town, or the gym to see those who were even worse off than Joey. Punch drunk, with slurred speech that no one could understand, not that they said anything worth understanding. Men like Cast Iron Dean. Once hailed as the strongest in the world, now a blind wreck that the kids ran from on sight, and jeered at behind his back.
‘It’s not too late to walk away, Eddie,’ Haydn murmured, blanching at the sight of the dried bloodstains on the canvas floor and walls of the booth. It was the best, or perhaps the worst thing he could have said.
‘I’m here to stay,’ Eddie snapped. ‘But if you want to go, feel free.’
‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’
‘Haydn, Haydn, over here!’ Four of the chorus girls from the current show at the Town Hall were sitting on one of only two benches in the booth. Sandwiched between them was the show’s comedian.
‘Come on, I’ll introduce you,’ Haydn offered.
‘To them?’ Eddie stared at their faces, heavily painted to announce to the world that they were on the stage. He’d never seen so much make-up on a woman close up before. Not a young one, and not out of the station yard.
‘Come on, they don’t bite.’ Haydn pushed Eddie ahead and Joey, reluctant to allow his protégé out of his sight, followed.
‘Eddie, Joey, meet Polly, Daisy, Doris, Lou, and the best comedian in Wales, Sam Spatterson.’
‘Best comedian in the British Empire, old boy,’ Sam corrected.
‘My apologies,’ Haydn smiled. ‘Best comedian in the Empire. Everyone, this is my kid brother Eddie and his trainer Joey.’
‘Trainer … ooh … you’re a boxer,’ Daisy squealed as she caught hold of Eddie’s arm and pulled him down on to the bench next to her. ‘I just love strong, powerful men,’ she purred.
Too embarrassed to say anythi
ng, Eddie stared at his feet.
‘He’s a world champion in the making,’ Joey said proudly.
‘He doesn’t look much like you, Haydn.’ Doris said pertly. ‘Sure your mother didn’t stray from the nest?’
The blood rushed to Eddie’s face.
‘I’m sure.’ Haydn gave Eddie a warning frown. Even he occasionally found it hard to reconcile the risqué talk of show business people with that of “normal” life. He couldn’t expect the same kind of attitude from Eddie, who’d never been backstage in the Town Hall in his life.
‘Tell me, Eddie,’ Daisy whispered in his ear as she fingered his biceps, ‘are you doing anything later, after you’ve boxed?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it,’ he muttered.
‘If you aren’t, you should come and see me in the show.’ She puckered her bright red lips as though preparing to kiss him. ‘I have a spare ticket here,’ She pulled a warm crumpled ticket out of the front of her low cut blouse and thrust it into the breast pocket of his new suit. ‘Don’t forget now,’ she crooned seductively. ‘Afterwards we could paint the town red. What about it, strong man?’
‘Lay off, Daisy,’ Haydn warned. ‘That’s my kid brother you’re talking to.’
‘Oooh big brother can get masterful.’ Doris opened her eyes wide. ‘I never knew you had it in you, call boy.’
‘I’ll see you ladies tonight,’ Haydn retorted suggestively.
‘Promises, promises,’ Daisy cooed as Eddie extricated himself from her grasp and re-joined Haydn and Joey.
‘Will you really see those girls tonight?’ Eddie asked as they walked back towards the ring.
‘Of course, I’m working, remember.’
‘I forgot.’
‘Girls like that aren’t worth a farthing,’ Haydn said with all the assurance of his nineteen years. ‘It’s nice girls you should be making cow’s eyes at.’
‘Like Jenny Griffiths?’ Eddie couldn’t resist the taunt.
‘Yes, if you must know, like Jenny Griffiths. But if on the other hand you’re looking for a bit of skirt to take up Shoni’s Pond tomorrow, you couldn’t do better than Daisy. By all accounts she’s made men of many boys.’
Pontypridd 01 - Hearts of Gold Page 22
