‘Very pleased to meet you, Mrs Slater.’
His smile wasn’t as friendly as it might have been. Ever-sensitive, Edyth assumed he disapproved of her.
‘Mr Williams, chairman of the council.’
‘My wife, Eirlys, and I would be delighted if you would come to tea tomorrow between services, Mrs Slater.’
‘How kind.’ Edyth looked to Peter.
‘Edyth and I would be delighted to accept your invitation,’ Peter answered for her.
‘Shall I ask Mrs Mack to serve you tea, Peter?’
‘Please, Edyth.’ He stepped back, watching the last of the council walk into the room ahead of him. ‘We will have a quiet evening together, I promise you.’
Wondering if all the problems between Peter and her were in her imagination, Edyth waved off the Sunday school children. She was just about to shut the door when Micah Holsten walked around the corner. Ridiculously pleased to see a familiar face after so many strangers, she called out to him, ‘Micah, how lovely of you to visit us on my first day in the vicarage.’
He produced a small bunch of flowers from behind his back. ‘They pale into insignificance set against those.’ He fingered the enormous bunch she was holding. ‘Someone must have raided every garden in the Bay to supply you with them. Not to mention a couple of fruit and vegetable shops,’ he added, eyeing the basket.
‘These are from the church council and Sunday school. But I love heather; it reminds me of the mountains in Pontypridd. And it’s white heather, too.’
‘Lucky heather. I bought it off a gypsy in Loudoun Square. She blessed the recipient but you’d better not tell Peter,’ he added in a dramatic whisper. ‘I don’t think High Anglicans go in for gypsy blessings.’
‘I’m sure they don’t,’ she laughed, feelingly suddenly preposterously happy. The combination of the flowers and Micah’s smiling face had somehow put all her problems into perspective. There was nothing that she couldn’t sort out – given time to talk to Peter. ‘Please come in. Peter’s holding a church council meeting in the dining room but you’re welcome to wait in the sitting room until he’s free.’
‘I give you fair warning: if I step over that doorstep, I’ll drip all over your floor.’
‘It could do with some water on it.’
‘It doesn’t look too clean,’ he conceded, looking down at it. ‘But no doubt, like most housewives, you’ll soon remedy that.’ He stood on the cork doormat and slithered out of his dripping mackintosh. She hung it in the porch. His trilby was sodden and he shook it outside the door. ‘Perhaps I should leave this out here?’
She took it from him and set it carefully on the newel post so it wouldn’t dry out of shape. ‘You haven’t an umbrella?’
‘I hate them. You can’t see where you’re going when you’re walking under one, or what your neighbours are doing, and I was born nosy.’
‘I have no idea how long church council meetings last.’
‘Aeons and aeons, I should think,’ he answered mischievously. ‘But it’s not Peter I’ve come to see, it’s you.’
‘Really? Please, you must know where the sitting room is, go on in. I’ll ask Mrs Mack to bring us some tea.’
‘Must you?’ He made a wry face and she laughed again before remembering that the members of the church council could probably hear her.
‘You’ll be wanting tea, Mrs Slater?’ Mrs Mack materialised in the kitchen doorway.
‘For the church council in the dining room. And Pastor Holsten and myself in the sitting room, Mrs Mack. Make sure both pots are freshly made.’ She went into the sitting room and closed the door behind her. Micah was sitting bolt upright on one of the wooden-framed easy chairs. He looked as though he would have been more comfortable on a park bench.
‘Sorry, the furniture is my mother-in-law’s,’ she apologised.
‘I’m glad to hear it. I’d hate to think it was your taste. You seem far too nice and considerate to want to give your guests backache.’
‘From what you said, I take it that you have drunk Mrs Mack’s tea before?’
‘I think she makes it in the morning and leaves it warming on the range all day. As I’ve discovered to my cost, some people in Wales believe that’s perfectly normal, which is why I usually drink coffee.’
‘I looked in the pantry earlier, I didn’t see any coffee, but I will buy some just as soon as I’ve had a chance to go shopping. However, there’s no need to worry about Mrs Mack’s tea. I had a word with her about it. The pot will be fresh.’ She sat on the sofa. If anything, it was even more uncomfortable than the chairs. It certainly didn’t encourage relaxing and it was impossible to loll on it the way she and her sisters did on the ones at home. Home. She forced herself to remember that this was her home now, for all that it didn’t feel much like it at the moment.
‘You’re attempting to knock Mrs Mack into shape?’ Micah said admiringly. ‘I’ve already taken my hat off to you, so I bow to your courage.’ He left the chair and gave her a theatrical, three-circle hand movement, Shakespearean bow. ‘No one on the Bay has ever managed to make that woman do an honest day’s work. She has to be the idlest person of my acquaintance. But then, I’ve never known a drunk to be industrious.’
‘Drunk?’ Edyth repeated in astonishment.
‘You didn’t know? Well, you’ll no doubt see her with a brown medicine bottle, for a cold she can feel coming on, or sciatica, or –’
‘A sore throat.’ Edyth recalled the bottle she’d seen Mrs Mack nursing in the kitchen.
‘That’s a new one. If you dared to take the bottle from her – and I’m not advising you to try, because she’d probably turn vicious – you’d discover the contents are odourless but not quite tasteless. She buys home-made vodka by the litre from the Russian seamen when they come into port. Which is why no one ever smells drink on her breath. It doesn’t have a distinctive scent like whisky.’ He left his seat. ‘This chair is not made for someone as long or thin as me. In fact, I’m not sure who it was made for. Possibly a deportment school that tortures young girls in the belief they’re being turned into ladies?’ He took a cushion from the chair, sprawled on the floor next to the hearth, stretched his long legs over the rug and, pushing the cushion behind his back, leaned against the wall. ‘That’s better. You should try the other side. Perched up there, you remind me of one of those American pole-sitters who stay on tiny platforms for days.’
‘I feel like one.’ She did as he suggested and sat on the floor on the opposite side of the hearth to the one he had taken.
‘If the tea is drinkable we can put it next to the coal scuttle. That way any spillages can be easily mopped from the tiles.’
‘You seem to know a great deal about Mrs Mack.’ As Edyth arranged her skirts over her legs, a disturbing notion occurred to her. She was more relaxed and happier in Micah Holsten’s company than she was in her own husband’s. She pushed the disloyal thought from her mind.
‘Everyone who’s lived for any length of time in the Bay knows Lizzie Mack for what she is.’
‘Scottish?’
‘Probably, I’ve no reason to believe her accent isn’t authentic. But she turned up here long before my time. She used to run a house.’
‘A house?’
‘One lived in by several ladies of the Anna Hughes ilk. You recall the lady you met the night you came to the Bay to look for Peter?’
‘I do.’ She blushed at her own naivety.
‘Age forced Mrs Mack into retirement. But not before, or so rumour has it, she amassed “a tidy bit of money”, which her drinking habits undoubtedly drain, although Russian vodka is generally cheap enough. About two years ago, Mrs James, who runs the seaman’s lodging house in Bute Street, took Mrs Mack on as a housekeeper. She put up with her for six months before ordering her to leave. Then Mrs Mack took a caretaker’s job in Moore’s shipping offices, in exchange for living accommodation and a small salary. Mr Moore senior is a tough man; he had her out in three weeks.’
‘But she told Peter and me that she’d been with Reverend Richards and his wife for over forty years, that she’s a friend of the Bishop’s cousin.’
‘And you believed her?’ He exploded with laughter.
‘We had no reason not to.’
‘More fool the pair of you. Sorry, I didn’t mean that,’ he apologised, but clearly finding it difficult to keep a straight face. ‘You weren’t to know. And she has pulled the wool over many people’s eyes in her time, including, I’m ashamed to say, me. Among her many and varied qualities Mrs Mack is an inveterate liar. Fantasy at short notice is her speciality. And she can be convincing. She conned me on my second day in the Bay six years ago. I believed her story that she had lost her home and job when the family who employed her had moved out of Loudoun Square. I even gave her ten shillings from the mission’s poor box. But you have to hand it to the woman. She knows how to pick gullible victims. Isn’t that so, Mrs Mack?’ he asked when she carried in a tea tray.
‘What, Pastor Holsten?’ She eyed him warily.
‘You know how to pick your victims,’ he repeated.
‘Why are you both sitting on the floor?’ she asked, instantly changing the subject.
‘Because it’s more comfortable than the furniture.’ Micah sat up, took the tray from her and laid it in the hearth. ‘I was just telling Mrs Slater that you’ve had many jobs in and around the Bay, and been with Reverend Richards for … oh … I’d say about eight months, wouldn’t you? Before he went into hospital, that is.’ His eyes shone with suppressed humour when he turned to Edyth, ‘Old Mrs Arnold, who was Reverend and Mrs Richards’s housekeeper for over forty years, left him when Mrs Richards died. She thought there’d be gossip about a widow keeping house for a widower. Although, as she was well over seventy and he was over sixty and in failing health, I can’t imagine what she thought people would say about them. Or more to the point, what they’d get up to.’
Mrs Mack pulled herself up to her full height. ‘I might not have been Reverend and Mrs Richards’s housekeeper for all that time, Mrs Slater, but I “did” for them.’
‘You helped Mrs Arnold occasionally on Saturdays when she cleaned the range and gave the house a good going-over ready for Sunday because Reverend Richards didn’t like anyone working in the house, not even to cook the dinner on Sundays,’ Micah corrected.
‘I … I …’
‘That will be all, Mrs Mack.’ Edyth felt sorry for the housekeeper. Although, from the defiant expression on Mrs Mack’s face, the woman was preparing to argue with Micah.
‘Reverend Slater asked for biscuits, Mrs Slater. I told him straight, Reverend Richards didn’t have a sweet tooth.’
‘Reverend Richards is no longer the incumbent here, Mrs Mack, and Reverend Slater does have a sweet tooth. I will make cake and biscuits just as soon as I have had an opportunity to go to the shops to buy the ingredients,’ Edyth broke in, wondering what the woman was building up to.
‘If you give me some money I could go to the baker’s in Bute Street and see if they have any cakes left.’
‘We’ll manage until Monday, Mrs Mack. I’ll do some baking then. You have our dinner to cook,’ she reminded her.
‘Yes, Mrs Slater.’
Edyth shivered in the draught Mrs Mack created when she opened and closed the door. The sitting room was a little warmer than when she had put a spill to the fire, but there was still a definite, damp chill in the air.
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised to Micah. ‘This room isn’t at all comfortable.’
‘It didn’t occur to Mrs Mack to warm the house for your return? Thank you.’ He took the tea she poured him.
‘Evidently not.’ Edyth handed him the sugar bowl and milk jug.
‘I have wondered if she behaves the way she does simply to be perverse, or if she genuinely likes to upset people and make them suffer.’ He sipped the tea. ‘Still, that’s enough of Mrs Mack, who you have taught to make a decent cup of tea. Edyth, the miracle-worker, I salute your superior skills.’ He replaced his cup on its saucer.
‘I didn’t teach her anything, just told her to make fresh when people wanted it.’
‘It sounds simple, but I used to visit Reverend Richards after his wife died and Mrs Mack never took any notice of the orders he gave her. To change the subject, did you enjoy your trip? The weather was dreadful, but perhaps that doesn’t matter on a honeymoon.’
‘It started raining on Sunday and hasn’t let up since, but Swansea and the Gower are beautiful even in the rain. Not that we saw much of it. We had … an emergency at home. Harry’s brother-in-law, David, had an accident, so we returned to Pontypridd on Sunday evening.’
‘David – I met him at your and your sister’s wedding. He is all right?’ he asked solicitously.
‘He will be. He fell and broke his legs, ankles and pelvis: Harry’s wife Mary was dreadfully upset, but everything was more or less back to normal when Peter and I left my parents’ house this morning.’ She firmly closed the subject. ‘Tell me, how are things on the Bay? I wasn’t sure what kind of welcome I’d get, but so far it has been wonderful.’ She looked at the fruit and flowers she’d laid on the sofa table.
‘There’s no one like Bay people for welcoming and accepting strangers into their community. And I’m sorry to call on you so soon, but when I heard that you’d returned to the vicarage …’ He gave her a deprecating smile. ‘You can’t limp in the Bay without someone from two streets away rushing to offer you a bottle of Sloane’s liniment,’ he explained. ‘I hoped you’d consider doing me a favour. It’s not for me, it’s for someone else. But please don’t feel that you have to do anything about it if you don’t want to.’
‘After what you did for me, I’m hardly likely to refuse you any reasonable request, Micah.’
‘It’s Judy Hamilton.’
‘The singer in your band? The one whose grandmother died the night you rescued me from the police station.’
‘Rescued might be a bit strong; the police weren’t about to birch or hang you. But yes, that’s the girl. She’s had a terrible time the last few weeks. Her grandmother left her the contents of her rented house, not that there was anything particularly valuable in it. But her long-lost father – who abandoned her when she was a baby and returned to swindle her – sold it all. The buyer came when most people from the Bay were at Pearl King’s funeral, so there was no one around to stop the men from cleaning out the place. Judy was left with the clothes she stood up in. And the woman who employed her as a housekeeper sacked her shortly before her grandmother died.’
‘That’s dreadful.’ Recalling the frock she had given Judy at Bella’s wedding and remembering they were the same size, Edyth began to mentally sort through her wardrobe for clothes she could do without.
‘She’s living with her uncle – you know him, Jed King – at the moment. But his house is small and full to bursting with his family. Judy has looked for a live-in position in the Bay and Cardiff, but jobs are rarer than reindeer around the docks these days, especially for girls. Two days ago I met her in the street. She’d just registered with one of the agencies that send Welsh girls to London as domestics. She was upset because they warned her she couldn’t expect as much money as a white girl, that’s if they found her a position at all.’
‘Talk about kicking someone when they are down,’ Edyth cried indignantly.
‘The coloured people who live in the Bay and rarely venture out of it have no idea of the prejudices they are likely to encounter outside. People are simply people here, not Afro-Welsh, Asian, Chinese, Arab, or Maltese – or any name other than their own. They’re simply known as Dai who lives up the road or Mary who runs the corner shop – or Judy who sings. Judy’s seen a little of what it can be like for coloured people on the outside and not just in the agency. She’s been turned down at auditions because of the colour of her skin.’
‘That’s appalling.’
‘I’ve read newspaper articles about your father and I can see y
ou’re his daughter,’ Micah said drily. ‘I haven’t said anything to Judy, but I thought that perhaps you and Peter might be thinking of taking on another maid.’
‘We certainly need good help.’
They were disturbed by a knock at the door. Edyth scrambled to her feet and opened it.
‘I came to see if you’ve finished your tea.’
‘Not yet, Mrs Mack. I’ll carry the tray into the kitchen when we have,’ Edyth answered.
‘I just happened to catch what Pastor Holsten was saying just now –’
‘By listening at the keyhole, Mrs Mack?’ Micah enquired bluntly.
She folded her arms across her flat chest. ‘We don’t need a maid in this house. Especially a coloured girl.’
‘That is for me and Reverend Slater to decide, Mrs Mack, not you,’ Edith said firmly. ‘And let’s get a few things clear from the start. First, you do not eavesdrop on my or the Reverend Slater’s private conversations. And secondly, in this house the only thing that matters is a person’s character. Not their colour, politics or religion.’
‘I’d like to hear you say that to Reverend Slater’s face.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Edyth said icily, stunned by Mrs Mack’s effrontery.
‘If a coloured girl sets foot in this house, I’m packing my bags and that’s final.’
‘You’ve just given me one more reason to employ her, Mrs Mack.’ Edyth met Mrs Mack’s stare head on. The housekeeper was the first to turn aside. Muttering, she retreated to the kitchen.
‘Do you mean it?’ Micah asked. ‘You’ll take Judy on? I don’t mind telling you, I was expecting a much harder fight.’
‘I need to employ someone who knows what a duster and scrubbing brush are.’
‘Judy’s grandmother taught her to cook and clean. Pearl King came to the Bay as a kitchen maid and her cooking was superb.’
‘You don’t have to sell Judy to me, Micah,’ Edyth laughed. ‘But it will be as much Peter’s decision as mine.’
‘Why, you’re the lady of the house, aren’t you?’
Tiger Bay Blues Page 33
