‘I hardly think a vicar’s wife is likely to need any knowledge of wines, Alice, expensive or cheap. Peter and Edyth are in no position to stock a cellar.’ Florence fragmented her bread roll with a venom that suggested she wished it were her sister she was crumbling.
‘You’re such a wet blanket, Flo. Vicars might not be the richest of men but I’m sure Peter and Edyth will be able to keep a good table. So, let’s hear it.’ Alice looked expectantly at Peter. ‘What do you two have planned for the week?’
‘If the weather holds, walking,’ Peter said resolutely.
‘And if it doesn’t?’
‘A trip or two into Swansea,’ Edyth said.
‘Disraeli with George Arliss is showing in the Plaza and there’s a musical, The Whirl of the World, playing in the Grand this week. I suggest you enjoy yourselves while you have the time to do it. Salt?’ Alice handed Edyth the cruet.
‘Thank you.’ Edyth took it from her.
‘Peter should be spending his time preparing for his return to his parish,’ Florence said primly.
‘I spent the last month preparing for this week’s leave of absence, Mother,’ Peter reminded her mildly.
‘You know what your father used to say. You can never put too much preparation into a sermon. The more effort you expend, the more likely you are to introduce God into the lives of your flock.’
‘I remember, Mother.’
‘Oh goody, fillets of beef,’ Alice cried out childishly, when a second maid brought in the next course, as the first maid cleared away their soup bowls.
‘You will come and see us again, Peter?’ Florence pressed.
‘Of course we will, Mother.’
Edyth’s heart sank. Much as she was enjoying the excellent meal and Alice’s company, she found her mother-in-law irritating and Peter’s meek responses to his mother’s edicts even more so.
‘When?’ Florence demanded.
‘We’ll call in to say goodbye before we leave at the end of the week.’
Edyth’s spirits soared.
‘But we have things to talk about, Peter. I’ve contacted one carrier but I’m by no means certain that he is the cheapest, or the most secure.’
‘He comes highly recommended, Flo.’ Alice pushed a cut-glass bowl of horseradish in front of Edyth. ‘Although I think you’re making a terrible mistake. Young people need to be left to get on with their lives. Especially when they’re first married.’
‘You talk a lot of nonsense at times, Alice.’ For the first time since they had sat down to the meal, Peter’s mother’s voice rose above her customary soft intonation, and acquired a sharper edge. ‘I have a great deal of experience at managing a parish. I helped Arnold run Mumbles smoothly for over twenty years. Both Peter and Edyth will find my help invaluable.’
‘Am I missing something?’ Edyth set her knife and fork on her plate and gazed at her mother-in-law.
‘I am going to move in with you and Peter, Edyth. Where else would a mother live other than with her son and daughter-in-law? Didn’t he tell you?’
The ward sister showed Harry, Huw and Lloyd into a side ward where David lay, white-faced, in an iron-framed hospital bed. He was so still that Harry leaned over to check his brother-in-law was still breathing.
‘Constable Davies.’ A uniformed sergeant rose from an upright chair placed discreetly behind the door.
‘Sir, this is the family of the patient, come to formally identify him.’ Huw hung back behind Lloyd and Harry.
‘Is this man David Ellis?’ The sergeant removed a notebook from his tunic pocket and looked to Harry.
‘He is,’ Harry asserted.
‘You will visit the station and sign a statement to that effect?’
‘Of course.’ Harry bent even closer to David and whispered, ‘Davy, it’s me, Harry.’
‘He’s heavily sedated, Mr Evans. He can’t hear you.’ The sister lifted David’s arm from the bed and took his pulse.
‘Can we talk to his doctor?’ Lloyd asked.
‘Doctor John won’t be here again until tomorrow morning, unless we have an emergency. The patient’s broken bones have been set.’ She indicated the cages that had been placed over David’s legs, ankles and hips to take the weight of the blankets that covered him to his chin. ‘We’ll take further X-rays in a few weeks to see if any of the damage is permanent. Until then, the only prescribed treatment is care and rest.’
Refusing to be deterred by the sister, who was already holding the door open to show them out, Harry again whispered, ‘Davy.’
David’s eyelids flickered.
Encouraged, Harry repeated, ‘Davy.’
David opened his eyes, only to close them before focusing.
‘Can I stay with him?’ Harry pleaded.
‘Visiting hours are strictly regulated, Mr Evans. One hour on Sunday afternoon and half an hour on Wednesday evening. For close family only. No more than two visitors allowed for each patient,’ the sister recited mechanically.
‘Please,’ Harry looked pointedly at the sergeant, ‘I won’t disturb David or anyone else on the ward. I’d hate for him to wake surrounded by strangers.’
‘Rules are made for a reason, Mr Evans, and you have been here quite long enough,’ the sister declared finally.
‘I’ll take over from you if you like, sir,’ Huw said to the sergeant.
‘I thought you were off duty in an hour, Davies.’
Huw shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m a friend of the family.’
The sergeant didn’t argue. Huw Davies was a bachelor who lived with his elderly father, a retired policeman. His brothers had all moved away from the town and his only sister, a young war widow, was fiercely independent and known to resent Huw’s interference in her children’s upbringing. Consequently, the constable had acquired the reputation of being a soft touch when it came to swapping shifts or taking over from another officer who had a personal emergency.
The sergeant left the chair. ‘Be my guest, Davies, but there won’t be anyone here to relieve you until two o’clock this afternoon.’
‘That’s all right, sir, I didn’t have anything planned for today.’ Huw took his place.
‘Not even sleep?’ the sergeant enquired drily. ‘Goodbye, gentlemen. I hope the young man makes a recovery.’
‘Thank you.’ Harry watched the officer walk down the corridor. Ignoring the nurse, he leaned over David and whispered his name again.
David could hear Harry calling him. He was also aware of people and movement in the background and, from the distant clatter of crockery, and footsteps echoing over hard floors, he knew he was in a strange place. But he preferred to remain in the grey, fuzzy cocoon of semi-consciousness that enveloped him, than blink his way upwards to the light – and pain. He was aware of hurting, although his body felt strangely numbed.
‘Davy, come on, I know you can hear me, open your eyes.’
Harry’s voice penetrated the cocoon and David remembered standing on the bridge – and jumping.
Strangely dispassionate, he wondered if he were dead. But if that were the case, then why was Harry with him?
‘I really must ask you to stop trying to rouse the patient, Mr Evans,’ the sister protested.
‘His eyes are flickering,’ Harry demurred. ‘Davy …’
‘Edyth,’ David mumbled.
‘She’s fine, Davy,’ Harry murmured, with a backward glance at Huw and his father.
‘Tell her … tell her I love her, Harry …’
‘The dog’s fine, son, I saw it leave the river,’ Huw said loudly for the benefit of the sister, who was still holding the door open.
‘The patient needs quiet.’ The sister exercised the authority of her position. ‘And no more questions, constable, not until the doctor gives you permission to talk to him.’
‘Yes, sister.’ Huw removed his helmet and stroked his bald head.
‘David’s in good hands.’ Lloyd nodded to Harry, who left the room.
‘Thank yo
u, Huw,’ Lloyd said gratefully. ‘We really appreciate you taking over here.’
‘If he comes round again while I’m here, I’ll call in and see you on my way home.’
‘I’ll tell Mari to keep the kettle on the boil and bake a cake.’
‘That will be worth calling in for.’ Huw smiled at the sister, but she ignored him and swept Lloyd out of the room.
‘So this is where you’re hiding yourself, dear.’ Alice Beynon pressed one of the brandies she had carried outside the house into Edyth’s hand.
‘No, thank you, Aunt Alice.’ After Peter’s mother had announced that she was moving in with them, Edyth had left the dining room. She knew that if she stayed, she would only say something that would upset Peter’s mother – and probably Peter. She was beginning to wonder if she knew the first thing about him after hearing that he had invited his mother to live with them without consulting her.
One of Mari’s often repeated maxims during her childhood had been, ‘If you say nothing you can’t be asked to take it back later.’ So, she had simply risen from the table, walked out of the room and, feeling the need for fresh air, made her way into the garden.
‘You’ve had a shock, Edyth, you need it,’ Alice persisted.
‘If I drink that, I’ll be squiffy for the rest of the afternoon,’ Edyth protested.
‘That might be the best state to be in. You can’t think too hard or get really angry when you’re squiffy.’ Alice walked over to a bench set in a sheltered spot overlooking her rose garden. ‘Come and sit down, dear. I spend hours here in summer when the blooms are out.’
‘It is lovely,’ Edyth complimented absently.
The bushes had been gorgeous in July and one or two withered blooms still clung to the branches, relics that Alice’s gardener referred to as the ‘ghosts of summer past’, but the skeletal trees and shrivelled, blackened leaves were hardly lovely now. However, Alice allowed Edyth’s comment to pass.
‘Peter didn’t tell you that his mother was moving in with you?’
‘Not a word.’ Edyth sat on the bench and stared blindly down at the brandy.
‘What would you have said if he had asked you?’ Alice pulled a pack of small, thin black cigars from her pocket. She offered Edyth one. Edyth shook her head. ‘Go on, it will annoy Flo – and Peter,’ she coaxed.
Edyth took one. ‘Before I met Mrs Slater’ – after the way Peter’s mother had made the announcement that she was moving into the vicarage in Tiger Bay with them, Edyth couldn’t bring herself to call her Mother – ‘I probably would have agreed. After all, she’s alone and she’s lost everything: her home, her husband and, to some extent, even her son.’
‘Rubbish; sons grow up and marry; it’s what normal men do. Although I admit I never expected to see the day that Peter would take a wife. If they try to hang on to their mother’s apron strings they’re laughed at by every right-thinking person. Flo has me, and she’s hardly roughing it in the workhouse,’ Alice pointed out caustically.
‘Your house is beautiful,’ Edyth complimented.
‘It’s taken a lot of time and money to get it this way,’ Alice dismissed the subject. ‘But how do you feel about having Flo to live with you now that you have met her? The truth, mind.’
‘I just wish Peter had consulted me.’ Edyth sipped the brandy. She found it warming, given the chill in the air. ‘I thought the vicarage was to be my home, mine and Peter’s. It was selfish of me, but it never crossed my mind that Peter’s mother would want to move in with us. Peter speaks so often about your generosity towards her, I assumed she was settled here.’ She suddenly realised that, for all her apparent sympathy, Alice was Florence’s sister. Had she said too much?
‘Flo has never settled with me,’ Alice divulged. She produced an elaborately embossed gold lighter, lit Edyth’s cigar and then her own. She saw Edyth looking at it. ‘This was my husband, Theo’s. But he didn’t buy it and it wasn’t to his taste.’ She fingered the bull embossed on the front. ‘The managers of his butchers’ shops, God bless them, clubbed together and gave it to him on his fortieth birthday. Little did they, or I, think that it would be his last.’ She returned the lighter to her pocket. ‘Theo didn’t like Florence, either – or Peter’s father, come to that.’
‘How did you …’ Edyth stammered into silence.
‘It’s as plain as the very pretty nose on your face, my dear. But don’t worry; your secret is safe with me. Or at least, as safe as it can be, given that some looks speak a thousand words. And, to your credit, you gave Flo one of those before you left the dining room. Flo never has been what you might call lovable.’ Alice set her brandy glass on the ground.
They sat in silence for a few seconds. Then they heard Peter talking to his mother. His voice was low, reproachful; hers was soft, languid.
‘You knew that I wanted to tell Edyth in my own time, Mother.’
‘When, Peter? I am moving in with you next week …’
‘They’re in the sitting room,’ Alice whispered. ‘Would you like to see my greenhouse, Edyth?’ she asked in a louder voice. ‘It’s not at its best at this time of year, but the gardener has just planted the Christmas roses and they’re coming well. Not in bloom yet, but the buds are plentiful.’
‘I’d love to.’ Wanting to get as far away from Peter and his mother as possible, Edyth followed Alice to the back of her house. Her ‘greenhouse’ was the largest conservatory Edyth had seen. Only one small area had been given over to seedlings. Half a dozen chairs, two chaises longues and a bamboo table in Raj-style cane stood in the centre, surrounded by pots of rubber plants, geraniums and trailing vines.
‘I confess I’m to blame for Flo moving in with you, dear. I haven’t put myself out or changed my ways to accommodate her since the day she arrived here. In fact, truth be known, I’ve gone out of my way to annoy her. Revenge for her sanctimonious attitude towards me and Theo over the years.’ She drew on her cigar and blew a puff of blue smoke in the direction of one of the Christmas rose bushes. ‘Good – or rather bad – for the greenfly; they hate cigar smoke, which gives me an excuse to light up in here,’ she explained briefly. ‘I know from the frequent and tedious sermons Flo has positively relished giving me over the years that she believes cards, alcohol, tobacco and novels, with the exception of a few – very few – classics, to be the work of the devil.’
‘I remember you mentioning that you belong to a bridge club,’ Edyth recalled.
‘Not just belong, dear. I insisted they meet here twice a week after Flo moved in. Before that we used to meet in an upstairs room in the Bush Hotel. Although we still hold the larger tournaments in the Caswell Bay Hotel, which is why they know me so well there. I enjoy planning our buffets with the manager. He and I have very similar tastes. Then there’s drink. Theo always insisted on having a good bottle of wine with dinner and a brandy afterwards, and I saw no reason to change the tradition after he was buried or when Flo moved in.’
‘Peter drinks wine.’ Edyth drew on her cigar. The tobacco was stronger than she’d expected and she coughed.
‘Put it out it if you don’t like it, dear. They are an acquired taste. And yes, I was successful in developing Peter’s taste when it came to alcohol, but not in all things,’ Alice mused. ‘But to get back to Flo, God only knows where she got her sanctimonious, holier-than-thou attitude from. Listen to me blaspheme, that’s something else I do to annoy her, but sometimes I think Flo was born pious. She hates me calling her Flo, by the way, because it reminds her of our working-class upbringing, which is why I never call her anything else. But she can hardly argue with an older sister, especially one whose charity she’s been living on for the last fourteen years. Our parents were shopkeepers. They weren’t religious, far from it. Our father owned a tobacconist and we all worked in it. My mother, Flo and me. That’s where I met my husband.’
‘And where Peter’s mother met his father?’ Edyth asked.
‘Good Lord, no. Peter’s father never allowed wine, tobacco
, spirits or, I suspect, Flo’s lips to touch his. As I was saying, Flo always did have a bit of a religious bent. When she was thirteen she developed a crush on a Sunday School teacher. She started to dress like her, talk like her and, I believe, even think like her.’ Alice finished her brandy. ‘She started going to church three times every Sunday. Morning and evening services and Sunday school. At fifteen she became a Sunday school teacher herself. Peter’s father was appointed curate to the parish and she fell head over heels in love with him. It wasn’t surprising. He was the handsomest man you ever saw and every unmarried girl in the church was after him. The only mystery was why he picked Flo. She never had great looks, but she did know how to pray. And he did have an odd way about him. Nothing you could put your finger on – just odd, not normal. You know what I mean?’
Edyth didn’t but she nodded anyway. ‘Does Peter take after his father?’ she asked curiously.
‘In looks and unfortunately, in my opinion, his dedication to the Church in Wales. He was a bright boy. He could have done well in any field he chose – medicine, the law, even the army – but Flo wouldn’t hear of him entering anything except the Church. And Peter’s biggest fault is a tendency to take too much notice of his mother. But in all fairness, he doesn’t appear to have inherited his father’s arrogance. Reverend Slater senior would have been very shocked and annoyed if he reached Heaven and discovered that the Good Lord hadn’t set aside a particularly saintly and holy cloud just for him. But for all his self-importance, Peter’s father never had the gumption to stand up to Flo. Sadly, Peter’s just as lacking in that department.’
Tiger Bay Blues Page 29
