‘I do, and I would be delighted to help in any way that I can.’ Edyth smiled up at the waitress, who was now serving them roast chicken.
‘As would I, Reverend Slater.’ Maggie leaned across the table, ignored her sister and beamed at Peter. ‘Edyth will be going to college at the end of the summer, while I, on the other hand, have another full year of school – and Pontypridd – to go.’
‘The final year,’ Edyth reminded. ‘And the most important one. You’ll be busy, Maggie.’
‘Not too busy to help the church.’ Maggie picked up a jug and handed it to Peter. ‘Bread sauce, Reverend, or would you prefer mint sauce with your peas?’
Edyth didn’t see her sister as a threat, but she did intend to make the most of her time with Peter, and encourage him to arrange to meet her again outside of the youth club, which wasn’t likely to happen if Maggie put an end to intelligent conversation with her blatant flirting. She moved her chair as close as she dared to Peter’s, leaned towards him and listened intently to every word he said. It was only embarrassment that stopped her from staring, because every time she glanced discreetly at him from beneath her lowered lashes, she found his soft, brown eyes focused on her.
The main course was eaten, the plates cleared, the strawberries and cream served, and the bowls removed. Coffee pots, cheese boards and crackers were placed at intervals along the tables and, throughout it all, Edyth and Peter remained locked in conversation, isolated from and oblivious to everyone around them, in spite of Maggie’s attempts to interrupt. When Lloyd rose to make his ‘father of the bride’ speech, Edyth took the coffee cup the waitress had set in front of her and sipped it absently without putting in her customary cream and sugar. She tried to look as though she were listening, but she couldn’t see or think of anything other than the man sitting beside her. And she couldn’t have made it more obvious that she hadn’t heard a word that had been said when Harry followed her father and made the traditional toast to the bridesmaids. She lifted her own glass and only realised her mistake when Maggie hissed, ‘That’s us, you fool.’
Five minutes after the speeches had finished, Edyth couldn’t recall a single word that had been said. She resented the polite enquiries that disrupted the flow of her and Peter’s conversation – the waitress enquiring as to their preferences; their fellow diners’ questions as to what Peter thought of Pontypridd and how he was settling into the town – but worse of all was Maggie, who simply refused to leave them alone. No matter how she glowered, glared and frowned, or how many kicks she aimed at her sister’s ankles under cover of the table, Maggie continued to flutter and coo around Peter like a lovesick dove.
‘You are so right, Reverend Slater. But then, no one in this family has ever voted Tory,’ Maggie purred, breaking in on Peter’s mild condemnation of the Tory party’s demands for a cut in the dole just as unemployment was spiralling out of control across the country. ‘Edyth,’ she gave her sister a wide insincere smile, ‘the jazz band is playing dance music.’
‘So we can all hear, Maggie.’ Edyth struggled to keep her irritation in check.
‘You know how you love to dance,’ Maggie commented archly.
‘And you don’t, Miss Evans?’ Peter turned to Maggie in surprise.
‘I don’t care for jazz or modem music,’ Maggie lied. ‘I prefer the waltz and foxtrot. But then,’ she shrugged and sighed theatrically, ‘I have very different tastes from my sisters and am always outvoted by them. However, that won’t stop me from asking Father to hire a string quartet to play at my wedding.’
Edyth realised that her sister had been listening in on her and Peter’s conversation for longer than she’d thought. Normally she would have retaliated, but the last thing she wanted to do was start an argument that might show her in a poor light in front of Peter Slater. ‘Isn’t it a little early to start planning your wedding, Maggie?’ she questioned evenly. ‘You are only seventeen.’
‘Nearly eighteen.’ Maggie tempered her swift correction with a subdued glance at Peter.
Lloyd left his seat and led Bella on to the dance floor. Toby followed with Sali. The musicians played ‘What is This Thing Called Love?’
‘Even after the ceremony I find it difficult to believe that one of us is actually married – I mean, us girls. My eldest brother Harry has been married for four years, so I am used to the idea.’ Edyth felt the need to fill the silence that had fallen after Maggie’s sharp rejoinder.
‘Your sister is very much married in the eyes of God, the Church, the congregation, and, from the look in his eyes, I’d say her husband,’ Peter commented lightly.
‘“Those whom God has joined together let no man break asunder,”’ Maggie quoted dreamily, gazing at Peter.
Edyth had never wanted to slap Maggie so much or so hard. But before she had time to collect her thoughts, David materialized in front of her, like the genie of Arabian legend. She only wished she could cork him into a bottle and push him out of sight.
‘You promised me a dance, Edyth,’ he reminded, ‘and Toby’s asked them to play “The Charleston” next.’
‘Edyth and David look so good together on the dance floor. People say they should be on stage. But then, being a vicar, I don’t suppose you go to the theatre?’ Maggie whispered to Peter, although she took care to speak loud enough for Edyth to hear.
‘I enjoy shows and concerts, Miss Evans. Only last month I saw Showboat in Llanelli.’
Edyth suspected that if she refused David his dance, he’d pout and she’d run the risk of Peter assuming that he was her boyfriend. But if she agreed, she suspected that Maggie or – more likely after the way her sister had behaved – another girl would drag Peter away on some pretext or other to a quiet corner of the house or gardens where she’d have difficulty tracking him down.
‘Edyth?’ David prompted.
‘Could we dance later, please, David? I’ve just eaten the most enormous meal.’
‘You ate hardly anything, Edyth. Besides, it’s never stopped you before,’ Maggie observed snidely.
‘Come on, Edyth, it’s “The Charleston”,’ David reiterated. The dancers finished applauding ‘What is This Thing Called Love?’, the band took a few seconds’ break and Micah Holsten played a solo opening.
Edyth gritted her teeth and smiled at Peter. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Peter, I’ll be right back.’
‘Of course, Edyth,’ He returned her smile. ‘And if the band plays something slower and more my style later, perhaps you’ll save me a dance?’
‘I’d be delighted.’
‘Something slower and more my style!’ David mocked as soon as they were out of Peter’s earshot. ‘The Reverend doesn’t look much older than me.’ He led the way to the wooden platform Lloyd had hired from the Town Hall and set up on the lawn as a dance floor.
‘He is a curate.’ Edyth sprang to Peter Slater’s defence.
‘So what?’ David demanded.
‘Vicars and curates can’t be seen doing anything improper by their parishioners.’
‘Like this?’ David pulled her into the centre of the group of dancers. Normally Edyth set the pace when she partnered David, kicking her legs wide without a care as to whether her skirts flew up or not. But conscious of Peter Slater sitting a few feet away from them, half hoping and half concerned that he was watching, for the first time in her life, she tried to dance sedately, or at least as sedately as ‘The Charleston’ allowed.
‘You’re not feeling well, Edyth?’ David pitched his voice above the applause when the band stopped playing.
‘I told you, I’ve just eaten an enormous meal.’
‘The food was good, wasn’t it? But then it would be with your mother and Mari in charge.’ David grabbed her hand again as the band started playing the newest hit to cross the Atlantic, ‘Dance of the Jungle’. Waving one of his hands high in the air, he grabbed her hand with the other and danced in a circle around her.
Edyth glanced over her shoulder towards the top table. Just as sh
e’d suspected, Peter Slater and her sister Maggie were nowhere to be seen. ‘The monster!’ she hissed furiously.
‘Pardon?’ David bent his head close to hers.
‘Nothing.’ After making sure Peter was nowhere in sight, she began to dance as if she were auditioning for a chorus line.
When she finally managed to escape from David, Edyth made frequent and unsuccessful forays into the house and back garden in search of Peter. Finally, she decided that he must have left. She took what consolation she could in the thought that he was bound to be in St Catherine’s church sometime the following day and returned to the party. Determined to make the most of the reception, she partnered every man who asked her to dance and was close to exhaustion when Harry tapped her on the shoulder two hours later. Ruth was lying, eyes half closed, against his shoulder.
‘Sorry to interrupt, Edie, but Belle asked me to look for you. She’s gone up to change and I think she’d appreciate some help.’
‘I’m on my way.’ She apologised to her partner and followed Harry back to the marquee. ‘Poor little mite, it’s tiring being a flower-girl.’ She stroked Ruth’s hair away from her flushed face.
‘Especially when you’ve eaten as many strawberries, and as much cream, as she has. I’m just waiting for her to be sick over my morning suit,’ Harry grimaced.
‘Go on, admit it, you love being a father, even the messy bits.’ She picked her way over the flowerbed, trying not to let her heels sink into the earth.
‘Guilty as charged.’ He moved his head and smiled at Ruth, who grinned back at him before sticking her thumb in her mouth. ‘If you see Toby, tell him to bring his and Belle’s cases down to the car.’
‘Of course, I forgot. You and Mary are driving the newlyweds to Cardiff station.’ She glanced around the guests in the marquee. ‘I must look for the twins.’
‘So they can tie things to my car?’ Harry guessed. ‘I won’t thank you if you do.’
‘The bride and groom have to have a noisy send-off. It’s traditional.’
‘Any damage to my Crossley and I’ll send you the bill,’ Harry warned.
‘I’ll ask them to be kind to the paintwork.’ She lifted her skirts to her knees and ran towards the house, dropping them quickly when she saw Peter Slater standing on the terrace talking to Reverend Price. He left the vicar and walked over to meet her.
‘Edyth, I’ve been looking for you.’
‘You have?’ she smiled.
‘I admit only for the last five minutes or so.’ He dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Reverend Price insisted on introducing me to as many of the congregation as he could find. I’ve been admiring your mother’s greenhouse for the last hour with Mrs Hopkins and a delegation from the Young Wives.’
Her mouth twitched and she turned her back to the vicar lest he see her giggling. ‘Mrs Hopkins is a very keen gardener.’
‘So I’ve discovered. Your mother certainly has green fingers. I’ve never seen such large tomatoes or cucumbers. Or,’ he looked down over the lawns, ‘well designed flowerbeds.’
‘You should have been here last year. Despite all the watering and mulching, the hot summer has killed off some of her best plants.’
‘Mrs Hopkins pointed out every single bare spot.’ He returned her smile and she suppressed the urge to hug him.
‘I’m sorry, Peter, I’d love to stay and talk to you, but Belle sent for me to help her change into her going away outfit.’
‘Perhaps we can talk later?’ he suggested. ‘I always wait to wave the bridal couple off at weddings. It’s the best part after the church service.’
‘I think so, too.’ She looked at him and, to her embarrassment, felt her cheeks burning. She rarely blushed. Why did she have to do it now of all times?
‘See you later.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’ She opened the front door and went into the hall. It was deserted, but an ominous thud resounded from the downstairs cloakroom. Having spotted the twins and a crowd of her younger cousins continuing their drinking and smoking in the shrubbery earlier, she thought one of them might have passed out. She knocked on the door in concern. When there was no answer she shouted, ‘Are you all right in there?’
‘Go away,’ slurred a masculine voice.
‘Not until I know you’re all right.’ She tried the door but it seemed to be locked. She turned the doorknob but someone was holding it fast on the other side. ‘Open the door.’
‘Go away.’
She put her shoulder to the door and pushed. A bloodcurdling scream echoed from inside, ending abruptly in another dull thud.
‘What the hell was that?’ Toby stood on the landing in his shirtsleeves, his braces hanging down over the trousers of his morning suit, his flies open.
‘Someone’s in the cloakroom, I thought it might be one of the twins or Eddie … ’
‘That was a woman.’
‘I heard a scream.’ Harry ran in, with Ruth now asleep on his shoulder. He saw Toby and shouted, ‘You’re not on honeymoon yet. Button up.’
‘Sorry, Edyth.’ Red-faced, Toby turned his back to her.
‘Someone’s in the cloakroom.’ Edyth tried the doorknob again but it wouldn’t budge.
‘They obviously don’t want to be disturbed,’ Harry commented.
‘That’s where the scream came from.’ She knocked the door again and there was a hollow bang as if something had hit the porcelain sink.
‘Here, take Ruth, Edyth.’ Harry handed her his daughter and banged on the door with his fist. ‘Whoever’s inside, open up.’
‘What’s going on?’ Mari walked down the passageway from the kitchen, an apron tied over her finery.
‘Someone’s in the cloakroom; we’re afraid they might be ill,’ Edyth explained.
‘If they are, it’s a sight we don’t want to risk this little moppet waking and seeing.’ Mari lifted Ruth from Edyth’s arms and carried her off as another drunken mumble, came from behind the closed door.
Toby ran down the stairs at the same time as the twins and Eddie entered the porch with a crowd of young boys. ‘We heard banging and screaming. Is something going on?’ Eddie’s eyes shone with excitement – and alcohol.
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ Harry answered.
Jed King pushed his way through the mass of boys. ‘Has anyone seen Judy? She came in for a glass of water half an hour ago. People are getting fed up with instrumental music … ’
A second muffled scream echoed from behind the door. Harry didn’t wait to hear any more. He ran at the cloakroom door. It shuddered when his shoulder connected with it. He stepped back and hurtled towards it a second time. The lock gave way at his third attempt and splintered open, but the door only moved an inch.
‘Here, let me,’ Toby slid his foot into the crack.
‘After three, push forward with all your strength,’ Harry ordered. Jed joined them and they used their combined weight to force it open, although they only managed to move it a couple of inches. But through the gap they could see Judy Hamilton crouched beneath the sink. Tears were running down her face and there were angry red finger-marks on her neck.
‘What the hell … Judy …’ Jed, who was behind Harry and Toby, darted forward.
Judy looked up at Jed, Harry and Toby but she didn’t move. Her arms were wrapped around her chest, but they could see that the bodice of her frock had been torn to the waist.
‘Heave on my count,’ Harry commanded. ‘One … two … three …’ The three men managed to open the door wide enough for Harry to stick his head through the gap. He looked down on Charlie Moore, who was lying slumped on the floor and jamming the door. He stank of whisky and sweat, his face flushed and scarred by livid scratches on his cheeks and chin.
Harry shouted to the twins, ‘Get everyone out of here, close the front door behind you and fetch my mother and father.’ He didn’t wait to see them run off. Shrugging off his jacket, he said, ‘Move, Charlie.’
‘I can’t,’
Charlie mumbled.
‘You want me to kick the door down on top of you? Because if that’s the only way I can get you to move, I will do it,’ Harry threatened.
Charlie slithered into the corner beside the toilet pan. Harry stepped inside and handed his jacket to Judy.
Shaking with rage, Jed followed Harry and crouched in front of Judy. ‘Did he hurt you, Judy?’
She shook her head dumbly.
‘Are you sure?’
She pulled at the ragged edge of her dress and nodded a reply.
Harry leaned over, sank his fingers into Charlie’s collar, hauled him to his feet and shoved him into the hall, as Lloyd and Sali appeared.
Lloyd took in the situation at a glance and closed the front door behind them.
Jed helped Judy to her feet. ‘She’s my niece …’
‘She’s a bloody half-caste,’ Charlie slurred. ‘Everyone knows coloured girls are always begging for it. They’re not like white girls … they …’
Jed closed his hand into a fist and squared up in front of Charlie.
‘No, Jed.’ Toby pushed him aside.
‘The bastard …’
‘I couldn’t agree with you more,’ Toby said coldly. ‘But I introduced him into this house and I’m ashamed to say he’s here at my invitation. The honour is entirely mine.’ He punched Charlie solidly on the jaw.
Charlie fell backwards and hit the floor.
‘The unfortunate thing about drunks is that they never really hurt themselves.’ Toby blew on his fist to cool it.
Chapter Three
‘Are you absolutely sure Charlie Moore didn’t hurt you, Judy?’ Jed King sat beside his niece on the sofa in the Evanses’ sitting room and looked earnestly into her eyes.
Judy’s voice was huskier than ever. ‘He put his hands around my neck and tore my frock, but he was too drunk to do anything else. To be honest, Uncle Jed, I think he even tore my frock by accident. The lace caught in his signet ring. You won’t tell the police, will you?’ She looked at him in alarm. ‘Remember what happened to Diane Robertson?’ She turned from her uncle to Lloyd, who was standing in front of the hearth. ‘Please, Mr Evans,’ she begged, ‘don’t call the police.’
Tiger Bay Blues Page 4
