by Rosie Harris
‘So what do I do until then, simply sit and wait for you?’ she asked sarcastically.
‘I’m afraid so; it’s something you are going to have to get used to doing because most of the time I’ll be at work and in my job, it’s not regular hours. Anyway, it will give you plenty of time to catch up with your studying.’
‘You mean I might be there on my own in the evening?’ she asked in dismay.
‘More than likely. If a story breaks and I am sent to cover it then I have to go, no matter what time of day or night it might be.’
‘This will be our first day in Louisa Street, though, so surely you could stay with me, just for once,’ she pleaded.
‘I was lucky to get the morning off,’ he reminded her. ‘You take your cases back, unpack them, and then go out and buy some food to last us for a few days. Have you got enough money to do that and to pay for the taxi?’
‘I think so, but I don’t know where any of the shops are. Anyway, I’ll be scared stiff wandering round those streets on my own,’ she prevaricated, ‘and I don’t even know what sort of food to buy because I don’t know what you like.’
‘What about bread, milk and perhaps some bacon and eggs or cheese or something like that? Buy whatever you would buy if you were at home.’
‘I never had to do any shopping when I lived at home; my mam always did it.’
‘Then you’d better start learning,’ he told her grimly. ‘From now on you’ll be doing the shopping, cooking and cleaning like a proper housewife, even if we aren’t married.’
As Gwyn hurried off into the offices of the Western Mail Sarah stood on the pavement outside debating what to do. On impulse she walked across the road and wandered into the Royal Arcade. She had been able to leave her suitcases at the reception desk in the hotel that morning, and didn’t have to be back to collect them just yet. She felt so disheartened by the way things were turning out that she went into a café and ordered a hot drink and a buttered bun in order to give herself time to think about the bleak future that lay ahead of her.
She wasn’t sure that her love for Gwyn was strong enough to make such a tremendous sacrifice as all this was going to entail. She was being expected to change her entire way of life and she needed to talk to someone about it; the only person she could think of was her mother.
She was now six months pregnant; her morning sickness seemed to have stopped, and, with her mother’s help, she could probably carry on at university right up until the baby was born. Perhaps if they told her father that was what she wanted to do, then he would be more lenient.
Perhaps they could say that she was married. The only trouble was that her father would hate that because he didn’t want her to have anything to do with Gwyn, so it might be better to say nothing and let people think whatever they wanted to.
Her father was always so concerned about what the neighbours might say about them that her mother rarely had anything to do with any of them so who was to know, or even to bother to check up?
It was now early afternoon. Her father would be at work and she was tempted to go and see her mother. If they could only talk things over she might be able to reason out what was the best thing to do to placate him so that it was possible for her to go back home again if she found life in Tiger Bay absolutely unbearable.
Chapter Fourteen
As she stood on the doorstep of her home in Cyfartha Street, Sarah felt as if she had been away for months, not merely one night. She slipped her hand through the letter box to find the key that always hung there, and then frowned in bewilderment. It wasn’t there. She tried again, feeling carefully all round as far as her hand would stretch, but in vain.
Apprehensively, she raised the knocker and as the sound echoed hollowly, her fears increased: she’d been so sure that her mother would be there, she never went out at this time of the day.
Perhaps she wasn’t feeling too well and was lying down resting. She banged again, more loudly this time and then bent down and called out through the letter box, ‘Mam, it’s me, Sarah’, in case her mother was there but had decided not to answer the door to callers.
When nothing happened, when no footsteps came hurrying along the passage, she felt tears pricking at her eyes. This was the last straw; she’d counted on her mam being there for her.
Slowly she retraced her footsteps to the tram stop in Crwys Road. She daren’t hang about; time was passing and she had to collect her cases and take them back to Louisa Street.
She wished she’d had a paper and pencil so that she could have left a note for her mother telling her where she was living. Then the thought that her father might have found it before her mother did made her realise that it was just as well that she hadn’t.
It was almost three o’clock by the time she reached the hotel and Sarah worried that Gwyn might arrive back at Louisa Street before she did.
The minute the taxicab drew up in Louisa Street Mrs Blackwood was on the doorstep to see what was happening.
‘Oh, it’s you is it,’ she commented as Sarah stepped out of the cab and stood on the pavement waiting for the driver to hand out her suitcases.
‘You’d better carry those suitcases up to her room for her, they’re far too heavy for her to carry in her state,’ Mrs Blackwood told the driver when he put them down on the pavement and made to get back into the cab.
‘It’s the top floor, she’ll show you. Go on then,’ she gave Sarah a prod, ‘lead the way; I’ll stay here and make sure none of the little tykes round here touch your cab,’ she told the driver.
When the cab driver left Sarah hastily began to unpack her clothes and stow them away, hoping to be finished before Gwyn arrived home. It wasn’t until she heard him walk in that she realised she’d done no shopping and there was nothing at all to eat. She hadn’t even been down into the kitchen and so she had no idea if there was even enough tea to make him a drink.
Guiltily she flung herself into his arms, hugging him and kissing him because she felt so relieved to see him.
‘Is this the sort of greeting I can expect every night?’ he asked teasingly as he returned her hugs and kisses.
‘Only when things go wrong,’ she said smiling. ‘I don’t know where the time has gone but I haven’t done any shopping.’
He pulled a face. ‘That’s too bad because I only had time for a snack at lunchtime and now I’m starving hungry. Perhaps we’d better go and see what we can get before the shops shut.’
There were still shops open in George Street and James Street so they bought enough groceries to last them for several days.
‘It’s too late to start cooking, so why don’t we buy some fish and chips?’ he suggested.
Gwyn waited until they had finished their supper before asking Sarah if she had cleaned out the cupboards that were theirs in the kitchen.
She looked at him blankly. ‘What cupboards?’
‘Well, there must be some place down there that is for our stuff,’ he pointed out. ‘Come on, let’s go and look. There’s probably no one there now because it’s so late.’
‘Then how will we know which is ours?’
‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘If we can’t work it out then we’ll go down and ask Mrs Blackwood. We should have done so this morning, I suppose.’
The kitchen was so small that Sarah didn’t think it was possible for there to be any space for their things but, to her surprise, they found there was a cupboard with ‘Top Room’ scrawled on it. Inside were cups and saucers, dishes, a couple of jugs, a basin, two saucepans and a frying pan. There was also an open-top wooden box containing an assortment of cutlery.
‘Well, there you are,’ Gwyn smiled, ‘everything you are likely to need and plenty of space for all the things we bought tonight. I’ll bring them down and you can put them away.’
‘Do you think they will be safe? There are two other families sharing this kitchen, remember.’
‘We’ll have to wait and see, won’t we? Anyway, while you are doing that I’m off back
to my lodgings to fetch my things.’
‘Oh, Gwyn,’ her face fell, ‘don’t leave me here on my own. Can’t I come with you?’
‘I think it best if I go on my own. It’ll be cheaper, and I won’t be all that long. If you’ve finished unpacking those suitcases then I’ll take them with me to bring my stuff back,’ he told her as he gave her a brief kiss.
Sarah’s first attempts at cooking the following night were a disaster. The potatoes boiled dry, the chops were charcoal-black on the outside but red raw in the middle, and they’d stuck to the bottom of the frying pan so that when she tried to get them out they were in pieces.
Gwyn manfully struggled to eat his then finally pushed his plate to one side. Sarah took one look at it and burst into tears.
‘Cariad, there’s no need to take on so. Perhaps you should go back to university and finish your course as soon as you’ve had the baby; you’re probably cut out to be a lawyer, not a housewife; even I can cook better than this,’ he added dryly.
When he stood up from the table she thought he was coming round to take her in his arms and comfort her, but instead he took down his overcoat from its peg and walked towards the door.
‘Don’t wait up for me,’ he said tersely.
Sarah sat there at the table, staring at the remains of the ruined meal for over an hour. Then, with a sigh, she began to clear everything away. She’d thought Gwyn had simply walked out in anger feeling the need to clear his head. He wasn’t home yet, and she wondered what she would do if he didn’t come back at all. She had only a few coppers left from the money her mother had given her, not even enough to pay for another week’s rent, let alone buy any more food.
As midnight approached she felt so utterly weary that she went and lay down on the bed without troubling to undress. In the last couple of days her size seemed to have ballooned and her feet and legs were swollen by the extra weight.
She’d have to leave university, there was no doubt about that, and to find a job, but who’d employ her now that she was looking so pregnant?
She still hadn’t resolved what to do for the best when she drifted off to sleep only to be awakened by the sound of raised voices and some sort of heated argument going on.
For a moment she couldn’t even think where she was, then the bedroom door opened and Gwyn stumbled in and flung himself down on the bed beside her. His breath was rank with alcohol and she instinctively pulled away from him with an expression of disgust.
‘Don’t start; I’ve already had one bloody mouthing from the landlady about coming in late and waking everybody up,’ he hiccuped. ‘I don’t need another one from you.’
He grabbed her roughly and, ignoring her protest to be gentle with her because of the baby, he attempted to make love to her. When he found he was incapable of doing so he pushed her savagely aside.
Sarah lay perfectly still. She closed her eyes, although she knew that sleep was out of the question, and waited until Gwyn’s breathing became steady and rhythmic and she knew he was asleep. Then she crept out of bed to go and make herself a cup of tea.
She paused on the top of the stairs; the whole house was deadly quiet, everyone was in bed and asleep. If she ventured down to the landing below and started moving about in the kitchen there was the chance she might disturb someone so, reluctantly, she abandoned the idea and crept back to bed.
She still found it impossible to sleep. She lay there not moving but revaluing her new life and wondering if she’d made a terrible mistake. Possibly Gwyn thought the same, she decided miserably. Two nights running he’d had no proper meal so it was no wonder that he’d gone out and got drunk. It wouldn’t take much drink to make him legless on an empty stomach.
Her mother would be shocked by her inability to look after him properly. She’d always prided herself on providing good nourishing meals and making sure they were always on time.
Lying there in the darkness she made all sorts of resolutions about what she would do in the future. If she couldn’t go on studying law then at least she could get herself a basic cookery book and learn how to provide decent meals. It might take a bit of practice but she was determined to succeed.
She wondered whether or not to mention this to Gwyn the next morning but he looked very hung-over and barely said a word, so she decided it might be better to surprise him with a good meal when he came home rather than talk about what she planned to do.
He kissed her briefly before he left for work. He didn’t mention the night before so neither did she. There’d been faults on both sides, she decided.
Once he’d gone she cleared up and left for university. She had lectures in the morning and a tutorial immediately after lunch, and needed to make an excuse for her absence over the last few days, but she would be free by mid-afternoon.
On her way home she decided to shop for something simple, like sausages, that she’d have no problem cooking, and resolved to make a tasty onion gravy to go with them.
When she went down to the kitchen to start cooking she was dismayed to find there were two other women already in there preparing their own meals. One was a very large middle-aged woman with crinkly black hair and a shiny dark face. She was stirring something that smelled very spicy in a large saucepan. The other, a tall, angular-looking woman with red hair and green eyes, who looked to be in her late twenties, was standing at the sink peeling potatoes.
They both stared at her as she walked in. ‘You from upstairs then, dearie?’ the dark woman asked. ‘I’m Clara and this is Dilly, we live on this floor. What’s your name?’
‘Sarah. We’ve only just moved in.’
‘Well, you got to take your turn in the kitchen,’ Clara told her. ‘Did Mrs Blackwood tell you that?’
‘She said we had to share it.’
‘That’s right and it’s first who come here to live who can use it first, so that means you are the one who has to wait.’
Sarah bit her lip. She wanted to bake the sausages in the oven along with some potatoes and unless she got started soon they wouldn’t be ready when Gwyn got home.
‘How long do you expect to be?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘As long as it takes!’ Clara laughed noisily. ‘My three young’uns play out for an hour or so after school until they see their dad come home and then they all like it to be on the table piping hot.’
‘What time is that?’
‘When he gets here, of course. Sometimes he comes rushing home, other times he stops off for a beer at the Crown and Anchor. He works on the docks and it’s the sort of work that gives him a great thirst,’ she added with another raucous laugh.
‘Dilly has only herself and her two kids to worry about,’ she went on. ‘Dilly’s old man’s inside, isn’t that right, dearie?’ she asked smiling across at the other woman.
Dilly shrugged. ‘I suppose he still is. I can’t remember when he’s due out,’ she murmured in a thin, whiny voice.
‘Perhaps I could cook my meal in the oven alongside yours,’ Sarah suggested.
‘Oven!’ Both women looked at her in surprise. ‘There ain’t no oven here in this kitchen, dearie,’ Clara cackled. ‘What you can’t cook on the gas ring you have to eat raw,’ she added, laughing so much that she shook all over.
‘What were you thinking of cooking?’ Dilly asked, staring pointedly at the package in Sarah’s hand.
‘I was going to bake some sausages and potatoes. I was also going to make some onion gravy,’ she added quickly as she saw Dilly raise her eyebrows.
‘Then you’ll have to fry the sausages and boil the potatoes. You could always mash them with a knob of margarine.’
‘Can I use one of the gas rings now?’ Sarah asked.
The two women looked at each other questioningly. ‘Well, seeing that it is your first time down here we’ll let you, but in future you’ll have to wait until we’re finished. Can’t keep kids waiting, the little blighters are starving hungry when they come home.’
As Sarah took the frying pa
n out of her cupboard, popped the sausages into it and made to put it on the ring, Clara said, ‘’ain’t you going to put a bit of lard or dripping into that pan? If you don’t they’ll stick like glue to the bottom. Remember to prick them as well, otherwise they’ll burst and splatter everywhere.’
‘I haven’t got any lard,’ Sarah muttered.
Clara walked over and opened Sarah’s cupboard. ‘You got damn all here apart from a couple of eggs and a drop of milk.’ She lifted out the jug and sniffed at it. ‘That’s on the turn, if you ask me. Take a tip: use condensed milk because fresh milk goes off in a couple of hours in this place. All that’s any good for is to be put down outside in the gutter for the cats.’
Sarah felt tears springing to her eyes. All her good intentions to have an appetising meal ready for Gwyn when he came home were vanishing before her eyes.
‘Don’t worry about it so much, dearie. I have a feeling that you’re new to this housekeeping lark and looking after your man. You nip out and fetch some milk while I cook your sausages and Dilly here will give you a couple of spuds out of her pot, won’t you, girl?’ she asked, smiling across at the other woman.
Dilly shrugged but said nothing.
‘Run along, then,’ Clara said, giving Sarah a friendly push. ‘By the time you get back it will be ready to go on the plates so I just hope that man of yours is home on time.’
Gwyn was home on time and pleasantly surprised when Sarah placed a plate of fried sausages and mashed potato, accompanied by some sort of sauce that smelled of spices, in front of him.
‘What’s all this?’ he exclaimed. ‘Have you been taking cookery lessons?’
‘Sort of,’ Sarah admitted. ‘Clara and Dilly, they live on the floor below, helped me out. I thought there was an oven in the kitchen but there are only a couple of gas rings. We have to take turns.’
‘It certainly looks good,’ he told her as he picked up his knife and fork.
‘Well, don’t expect this again in a hurry.’ She smiled. ‘Tomorrow, Clara is going to show me how to cook chicken but it won’t be roasted. I’m not sure how she prepares it but she’s going to show me. She says that by the time the baby is born I’ll be able to cook anything.’
