The Girl in the Spotty Dress--Memories From the 1950s and the Photo That Changed My Life

by Pat Stewart

  Witnesses had described hearing a noise similar to a jet engine passing overhead as the spoil tip slid down and ran over the top of the school. Those that hadn’t died of suffocation were killed by the impact of falling debris.

  Tragically, if the disaster had struck only a few moments earlier, the children wouldn’t have been in their classrooms; if it had struck a few hours later, the school would have broken up for half-term. Parents had lost their children, and older brothers and sisters would grow up without siblings. Youngsters who’d missed school that day lost all their friends in one fell swoop.

  As Wales and the rest of the country began to mourn the dead, more news filtered through. Lennie, one of my artistes and a dear friend, had lost both his sons in the disaster. As soon as we heard, Johnny and I drove over to see Lennie and his wife. It’d only been a few days but I can still remember the silence. It hung heavily in the air as we parked up the car. Everything felt still – as though the clock had stopped the moment the disaster had struck. It was obvious Lennie was absolutely devastated. As soon as he answered the door, his grief was clear for all to see, etched deeply into his face. We’d wanted to call by, to let him know that we were there for him. His wife sat still and silent in a corner of the room, numb with shock that both her boys would never be coming home.

  ‘If there’s anything we can do, Lennie. Just let us know,’ I said, giving him a hug.

  But no one or nothing could take away their pain.

  Within days, a fund had been set up to help families who had lost children and relatives in the disaster. Naturally, performers from the showbiz world stepped up and offered to do whatever they could to help. As a theatrical agent based in Wales, I found myself in the thick of things, and I organised one charity fundraiser after another. This continued for months. I worked tirelessly for free, more than happy to help where I could, until one day when I received a telephone call from a club.

  ‘We’d like to book a show to raise funds for people affected by the Aberfan disaster,’ the voice on the other end of the line explained.

  ‘And when is it you’d like them to perform?’ I asked, looking down my list of available artistes.

  ‘Sunday lunchtime.’

  I stopped what I was doing because that’s when it hit me. Some clubs were no longer holding these charity fundraisers out of the goodness of their hearts; they were using it as a way to boost takings behind the bar. Sunday lunchtime drew in a good crowd but no ladies were allowed in the clubs on Sunday lunchtime, so it was quite clear that this particular club was just looking for a spot of free entertainment. I was absolutely furious.

  ‘Listen, I’m not getting paid a penny for this,’ I told him, with clear disgust in my voice. ‘And neither are the artistes, who have given all their time for free. But you are just using us to boost your bar takings.’

  He realised that I’d sussed him out.

  ‘Erm…’ he mumbled.

  I threw down the phone in a temper just as Johnny strolled through in through the door.

  ‘What’s up?’ he said, spotting the look on my face.

  ‘This has got to stop. Little shows here and there,’ I said. ‘What we need to do is one big, final show – something that’ll raise a fortune. We need to bring all the big stars to Wales for a one-off show at the New Theatre. It’ll raise a heap of cash, and put an end to people trying to make money off the back of such a horrible disaster.’

  Johnny nodded.

  ‘If anyone can do it, you can.’

  A few weeks later, the Cardiff Committee for Aid to Aberfan was formed. We held a meeting in Caerphilly, and I began pulling in favours from all the contacts I’d built up over the years. I managed to get Shirley Bassey to donate one of her glamorous evening dresses to put up for auction. I also helped book The Clarke Brothers – two fabulous tap dancers from America – Victor Spinetti, and Eddie Thomas – Howard Winston’s boxing manager. I tried to book George Raft, an American actor who’d performed alongside Marilyn Monroe in the film Some Like It Hot. George had starred in lots of great films and had played many roles, including that of a gangster. It’d mirrored his own life because George had grown up in virtual poverty in Hell’s Kitchen – a poor neighbourhood in Manhattan, New York. As a young man, he’d been surrounded by real-life gangsters and petty villains. The problem was that he’d continued to count them among his friends. Unfortunately, he was denied entry into the United Kingdom ‘due to his underworld associations’.

  After that, the Aberfan Aid Committee seemed to hit one brick wall after another, particularly when it came to booking acts.

  ‘It’s as though people want us to fail!’ I complained.

  I was baffled as to why people didn’t want the show to be anything other than a huge success.

  ‘I just wonder if the big agencies are somehow blocking us,’ I voiced out loud to the rest of the committee.

  Just then, a voice piped up from the back of the room, breaking the silence. It belonged to one of the performers. He was a lovely man, who was also a practising homosexual. It was something that was still considered a taboo at the time although thankfully times were slowly changing.

  ‘I know someone who might be able to help. I can have a word with the boys if you like?’ he offered.

  I figured any help would be better than none.

  ‘Yes, all right,’ I said, looking up from my list of performers. ‘If you think it’ll help, please go ahead and speak to them although I doubt they’ll be able to do anything.’

  But the theatrical smiled and nodded his head knowingly.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure they will.’

  CHAPTER 19

  THE KRAY TWINS

  A charity football match was held between TV personalities and Welsh internationals during the day and, later that evening, our all-star gala at Cardiff’s New Theatre began. The place was absolutely packed out as Johnny closed the first half of the show to rapturous applause.

  ‘They seemed to like it,’ he gasped as he came running off the stage.

  ‘They loved you, Johnny. You knocked them out!’

  I felt proud of Johnny and the other entertainers; proud to be part of such a fantastic fundraising show. Afterwards, still on a high of adrenalin, the cast decided to head across the road to the Park Hotel for a drink. Glasses were raised as we chinked them together in celebration of a job well done.

  ‘You were great, Johnny. You were the hit of the show!’ one of the other performers remarked.

  Johnny bowed his head and blushed. He was a natural comedian but he was also a very modest man. We took our drinks and went over to sit with Eddie Thomas and his wife Kay. Eddie had taken part in the show, although he was a boxing promoter, not a performer. The four of us were good friends and we got on famously even though our professional paths very rarely crossed.

  Eddie organised boxing in a West End club and he’d often invite Johnny along as his guest. Heartbreakingly, Eddie had also been one of the first people on the scene of the Aberfan disaster. He’d once been a miner, so he used his expertise to help organise the rescue attempts. He’d brought some of the children’s bodies up himself along with the miners from Merthyr Vale, carrying them to a temporary mortuary set up inside Bethania chapel. Although he was a former boxer and an all-round tough guy, Eddie was also a very sensitive man. He didn’t like to talk about what had happened that day, but everyone knew what he’d done and the whole community never ever forgot his efforts.

  As the two boys started chatting about the evening, I took a seat next to Kay and sipped slowly at my gin and tonic. I’d only taken one or two sips when Kay’s face changed expression from one of happiness to one of complete horror. The colour had drained from her face and she began to slide down in her chair, cursing and muttering away to herself. She held her glass up in front of her mouth to try to disguise her words, but I was close enough to hear.

  ‘Fucking hell!’ she gasped. ‘What on earth are they doing here?’

  ‘Who?’ I
said, following her gaze and about to turn in my chair.

  ‘No, Pat! Don’t!’ she hissed, tapping me on the arm. ‘They might see you looking!’ she panicked.

  But I couldn’t help myself. I had to see who on earth she was talking about and what she was so afraid of.

  As I turned my head, I spotted a group of very suave young men coming in through the door. They were all suited and booted with Brylcreemed hair and sharp suits. Their suits were grey and extremely well-tailored and expensive looking. Two of the men, in particular, seemed almost identical, as though they were brothers. I noticed that, although their suits were well cut, they also seemed to be bulging forward around the inside breast pockets. I presumed they must have something stuffed in them – possibly a bunched up handkerchief.

  ‘But who are they?’ I asked, completely clueless as to why Kay was cursing away.

  ‘It’s the Kray twins,’ she hissed through gritted teeth. Her face was as white as a sheet.

  I looked over towards Eddie, but he didn’t say a word. Johnny was also strangely silent. It was as though everyone had heard of these twins – everyone apart from me.

  ‘But who are the Kray twins?’ I demanded to know.

  Kay looked up at me through her long eyelashes as though I’d gone completely mad.

  ‘What, do you really mean you’ve never heard of the Krays before?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Nope, I’ve never heard of them. Why? Should I have? Are they famous?’ I asked, thinking they must be actors or something.

  Kay snorted. It was clear she didn’t think what I’d just said was funny at all. I watched as the twins and their friends sat down in some chairs opposite us. I looked back at Kay and asked her to enlighten me.

  ‘It’s the Kray twins, Pat. They’re bloody murderers! That’s what they are,’ she said in her soft Welsh lilt.

  I looked at Kay, then at the brothers and back again.

  ‘Murderers!’ I exclaimed. ‘Why, who do they murder?’

  Kay put her finger against her mouth as her eyes widened with fear.

  ‘Shush, Pat. They might hear you!’

  I presumed that, because Kay was married to Eddie, the Krays must be involved in the boxing world.

  ‘Are they boxers then?’

  Kay, who had just sat back up, was about to answer me when she began to slide down in her chair once more.

  ‘Jesus!’ she gasped, almost crossing herself. ‘Don’t look now but they’re coming over!’

  I turned to see a man, who wasn’t one of the brothers, walk over towards our table. My eyes darted back towards Kay. She looked as though she was going to die of fright.

  ‘Excuse me,’ the man said, tapping Johnny lightly on the shoulder.

  I noticed his body stiffen underneath the man’s touch.

  ‘Yes,’ Johnny replied, looking at him with a polite smile.

  The man dipped down and whispered something in Johnny’s ear. I craned my neck towards them so that I could hear.

  ‘The boys wondered if you could just come over for a minute because they want to have a word.’

  My heart beat furiously inside my chest as I watched my husband stand up and walk across the bar towards the Kray twins.

  I turned to face Kay. By now, her eyes were on stalks.

  ‘What do you think they want with Johnny?’ She gasped, her mouth hanging open.

  I shrugged.

  ‘I haven’t a clue. Why? Do you think I should be worried?’

  Eddie and Kay looked each other and then back at me.

  ‘They are murderers, Pat!’ Kay hissed. ‘East End gangsters. They’re well known for it. I can’t believe you don’t know who they are.’

  ‘But what do they want with Johnny? He’s not a gangster. He’s a comedian!’

  Kay put down her drink on the table with such force that the alcohol rose up and spilt over the edge of the glass, soaking her beer mat.

  ‘I don’t know,’ She replied looking up. ‘But I think we’re about to find out. Here comes Johnny now.’

  As Johnny returned, I noticed his face was clouded over with worry. It made me nervous but, at the same time, I needed to know what the Krays wanted with him.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ I asked, resting my hand on his arm gently. He slumped down into his chair as though the stuffing had been knocked from him.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he muttered. Johnny picked up his pint of bitter and took a nervous gulp. ‘Everything’s fine.’

  Kay leaned forward, her eyes burning with curiosity.

  ‘But what did they want, the Kray twins?’

  Johnny looked at his pint and placed it back down on the table.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘It was all a bit strange.’

  ‘Strange. Why?’ Kay asked. It was clear she was dying to know – we all were.

  ‘Well,’ Johnny said, looking over one shoulder to check that no one could hear him. ‘The boys wanted to know how I could do a performance like the one I did tonight and not be a bigger star.’

  I nodded because I agreed with the Krays.

  ‘And what did you say when they asked you that?’ Kay asked, leaning forward in her chair.

  ‘I said I didn’t know.’

  ‘And then what happened?’

  ‘Well, that was it, you see. They asked if anyone was holding me back.’

  I was puzzled.

  ‘But why did they ask you that?’

  Johnny shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know. But maybe it’s got something to do with that man on the committee – you know, the camp fella.’

  And that’s when it hit me. I recalled the moment when the old theatrical had promised to ‘have a word with the boys’. But I’d been worried one of the agents had been ‘blocking’ the show, not Johnny’s career. I gasped because, suddenly, it all fell into place.

  Kay turned away from Johnny for the first time to look at me.

  ‘What is it, Pat?’

  I explained all about the trouble we’d had booking the acts, and why I thought the Krays had come to the show.

  ‘So they know one of the organisers?’ Kay gasped.

  ‘Yeah, I think so. That must be why they turned up here for tonight’s show.’

  Kay exhaled and fell back in her chair.

  ‘Talk about friends in high places!’

  But Johnny hadn’t finished.

  ‘That’s not all,’ he said, picking up the beer mat and twiddling it around nervously in between his fingers.

  ‘Why, what else did they say?’

  ‘Erm, the boys asked if they could represent me.’

  Kay rolled her eyes and exhaled a deep breath.

  ‘Johnny,’ she said, grabbing his hand in hers. Her face was deadly serious. ‘Tell me you said no. Promise me you won’t have anything to do with them.’

  ‘Why not?’ I asked, sensing a good business opportunity. ‘If they want to represent him, why not?’

  Kay looked at me as though I’d just lost the plot.

  ‘Because they are murderers, Pat!’

  ‘To be honest, Kay, I don’t think I have any say in the matter anyway,’ Johnny butted in. ‘I’ve given them our home telephone number. I’m sorry, Pat, but I couldn’t say no – not to the Krays.’

  ‘Its fine, Johnny,’ I replied, patting his hand in reassurance. ‘It’ll be all right. Everything will work out fine, just you mark my words.’

  And it did. But we never did receive the call.

  One day, I was pottering around at home when Johnny shouted at me to come into the kitchen.

  ‘Pat, here!’ he called.

  I ran through to the other room, where I found him crouched over the radio, listening intently.

  ‘It’s the Krays,’ he said, pointing at the radio. ‘They’ve just been arrested.’

  That evening we watched a news report. Detectives from Scotland Yard had arrested the brothers, along with fifteen other members of their ‘firm’. With the twins safely loc
ked inside their cells, their reign of intimidation was finally over. This had helped bring more witnesses forward. Following a subsequent trial at the Old Bailey, the Krays, along with fourteen others, were convicted. Both brothers were sentenced to life imprisonment, with a non-parole period of thirty years, for the murders of George Cornell – an associate of a rival gang – and Jack ‘the hat’ McVitie, whose body was never found. Their sentences were the longest ones ever passed down at the time.

  ‘Oh, well,’ I said, standing up to switch off the television set. ‘That’s another boat we’ve missed.’

  Years later, I discovered that Reggie Kray had given the largest single amount to the Aberfan Aid fund by an individual. He’d donated £100 from himself and his brother, Ronnie, and had handed it over on the night of the show. The £100 donation may not sound much but, back in the day, it was worth the equivalent of £3,000 in today’s money. It was a time when a pint of beer cost 8p and a loaf of bread only 5p. In spite of their reputation, protection rackets, murder and long-term frauds, when it came to charity, it seemed the Krays were more generous than most.

  CHAPTER 20

  WAITING IN THE WINGS

  A year or so later, I discovered that I was expecting my third child. Johnny was working all hours at the New Theatre in Cardiff. He was performing in the pantomime Cinderella when I’d fallen pregnant. We’d joked it had been an immaculate conception because we were both so busy – me with the agency and Johnny with the panto.

  One day, when I was around three months pregnant, I gave Johnny a lift over to the theatre for the matinee performance. It was very difficult to find a parking spot, so we drove around a bit until I could find a space. I parked up my Mini and headed inside. I was only supposed to park in the space for an hour but I’d overstayed my time. When I finally dashed back to the car, I found a grim-looking traffic warden placing a ticket on the front of my windscreen.